Treasures

Treasures written by William Henry Davies

From "Songs of Joy", 1911

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He hailed me with a cheerful voice,
I answered him with ready lips;
As though we sailed the briny seas,
And hailed from passing ships.

"Come in," quoth he, "and I will show
Thee treasures few men saw before."
He from his pocket took a key
And opened wide his door.

He seemed no more than other men,
His voice was calm, his eyes were cold;
He was not tall, he was not short,
Nor seemed he young nor old.

I'll see some treasures now, methought -
Some work in silk and ivory;
Some painted trays and vases quaint,
Things with a history.

I saw at once some glittering beads
That seemed like berries fit to eat;
Such as make children leave the woods
Crying for their home sweet.

"Aye, aye," quoth he, "a little maid
Played with them fifty years ago;
She's perished on the scaffold since -
That's why I prize them so.

"Pray sit thee down in comfort now,
For I have treasures rich and rare."
He went upstairs, I sat me down
And round the room did stare.

That room looked strange; a little fire,
The lamp burned low, the hour was late;
A horse outside cropped grass - the sound
Seemed like the steps of Fate.

The furniture in that man's room
Seemed part of one large, deadly plant
Which if I touched would hold me fast,
To perish soon of want.

Aye, I confess, I trembling stayed,
Thralled by an unexplained desire;
I shook like negro in his hut,
Sick at a little fire.

I heard him tumbling things about,
Methought I heard a murder call
And blows; and then the blows did cease -
I heard a body fall.

Then all was still, how still it was!
I heard him breathing hard; at last
I heard him with a load caught in
The narrow stairway fast.

And now he shows his face again;
I see a bundle on his arm,
A dress, a sheet, a boot - and things
Too simple to alarm.

"Now list," quoth he, "I told thee once
That I had treasures rich and rare:
This sheet did smother a small babe,
It was a baron's heir.

"This long, black dress a poisoner wore -
Her head was chopped off with an axe;
'Tis priceless unto those that made
Her figure show in wax.

"This is the boot, one of a pair,
The other matters not" - he said;
"'Twas with this boot a murderer kicked
To bits his dead man's head.

"These bones were found upon a raft,
And brought to shore by seamen true:
Bones of a little boy, picked clean
By a cannibal crew.

"When Bill Black murdered Liza Green,
As she sat down to pickled pork,
He finished her sweet supper with
This very knife and fork.

"This scarf, which ties them all in one,
Was my own father's, he one day
Hanged himself to a beam by it -
I've other things, so prithee stay."

He whistling went upstairs again,
I softly crept towards the door
And vanished in the night, nor saw,
Nor wished to see him more.

This work is in the public domain in countries where the copyright term is the author's life plus 70 years or less.