Junk-Shop, Memories Poem by Alan Cooper

Most objects here, do worthless seem,
Yet, within this shop, lies many a dream,
That Zulu shield some soldier brought,
From battlefield, where he gallantly fought.

The sand polished brooch, from Arabian mart,
Was purchased by a lost sweetheart.

This locket here was daily worn,
By some poor girl, whose life was torn
Asunder, when her love was killed,
At Jutland - so God willed.

The music box did homeward wind,
To amuse sweet child, who-alas was blind.

Those ivory carvings, ah how sweet,
Are memories bought, when wife did greet
Her husband, in far off Bombay
After years of absence: - what happy day!

That rocking chair that time's abused,
Is like the one dear granny used.

What stories could that sea-chest tell?
Of violent storms, that made life hell,
Or idyllic nights on tropic isles
With dusky maids, all happy smiles.

Look: there in that box there! Do you see?
In lonely splendour, a treasured VC
What tragedy surrounds that cross
That caused a hero such loss?

Look carefully at that Samavar
See the crest, that shows the Tsar
Of all the Russians once, did use it
I wish I knew, who so abused it.

Can you imagine, with what joy,
A father and a happy boy
Did land that fish, that's mounted there
What triumphant shouts did heave the air?

Those jade earrings, did once adorn
The shell-like ears of princess born
To rule o'er China's vast domain
They've laughter seen, and untold pain.

Rob Roy once wore, that Skean-dhu
What stirring tales it could tell to you
Of thrilling pursuits thro' highland glen
How it mocked the redcoats, laughing - when,
Triumphant, waved in master's hand
He taunted downcast band.

Gracious me, look; there's a find
I'm sure the owner must be blind
To value in that fan's romance
For Marie-Antoinette used that to dance.

And how could anyone bear to part
With that lovely jewel box, shaped like a heart?

Ah; come my friend; let's homeward wend
It saddens me, such treasures end,
Mute witnesses to better days
Exposed, like this, to public gaze.