Diaz's croziered pillar there
Stands by wicked Van Noodt's chair,
And the plate that graced his board
Is guarded by Van Riebeck's sword.
Near, an old bronze Buddhist bell
Graven with an Eastern spell—
With its Mane padme om;
Near, a Chinese ivory comb;
Near, an idol grinning white
Cased in ocean stalactite,
Which has suffered a sea-change
Into something rich and strange;
Near, a grim, terrific god;
Near, a teapot with an odd
Chinese dragon trailing round
Golden folds on copper ground.
There's a tiny English shoe
Of Morocco, cream and blue,
Made with all a cobbler's skill
By "Sam Miller in Cornhill."
Nothing more the legend says;
But I, in love with bygone days,
Look until I hear it tell
(Like a murmur in a shell)
Many a story quaint and sweet
Of the lady fair whose feet
Twinkled with a charm divine
Beneath her ample crinoline,
Making her tortured lovers dream
That heaven itself was blue and cream.
As down the Heerengracht she went
