The Miraculous Pitcher

Gentle old Philamon lived all his life

In a tumble-down cottage with Baucis, his wife.

They often went hungry, I'm sorry to say,

Yet they shared what they had with those poorer than they.

One day, to their door came a stranger who said:

"I'm hoping you'll offer me supper and bed.

Cold is the weather and dark is the night,

And hunger makes harder my pitiful plight."

"Come in," Baucis bade him. "You're welcome, indeed!

Sit down while I find you the supper you need."

As the stranger obeyed with a sigh of content,

Off to the kitchen the old people went.

"Our milk," Baucis whispered, "is milk of the best,

But alas, there is only enough for our guest!"

Said Philomen promptly: "Our stomachs are slim.

Let's tighten our belts; fill his bowl to the brim!"



When Baucis had done so, her eyes opened wide;

She had emptied the pitcher -- yet milk was inside!

It bubbled up, drop by delectable drop

Till the pitcher was filled again, clear to the top!

Suspecting that magic was lurking about,

They looked for the stranger (to thank him, no doubt),

But the stranger had gone as would vanish a ghost,

Without a goodbye to his hostess and host --

Unless his goodbye was the magical pitcher

Refilling with milk, ever sweeter and richer!


Ernestine Cobern Beyer Originally published 7/31/07