Littell's Living Age/Volume 135/Issue 1741/Lines to a Teacup

     Dear little teacup,
     Oh! my rare wee cup,
Work of Celestials! you must be divine;
     Tea no one drank in
     Porcelain of Nankin
     So fit to rank in
Richer ceramic collections than mine.

     Those curious blue marks,
     Not sham,. but true marks,
Prove you are nearly five centuries old;
     In your young beauty
     Perhaps you did brew tea
     For the King Chuty,
Robed, like the sun, in a mantle of gold.

     Where is his charmer?
     Who would dare harm her,
She who ruled over the ruler of men?
     But in the places
     Which knew her graces
     She left no traces,
They have forgotten their fair denizen.

     She was not brittle,
     Frail perhaps a little,
Why is she missing, and you here to-day?
     Say by what token
     You are unbroken?
     Patent to no ken
Is the distinction, for both are of clay.