Dignity Personified

Are you shy too, and lonely, my porcelain Hetty- Lying so primly propped, on your chintz-covered settee? Days pass you by, go unnumbered as sand grains, You in your old lace and pastel-ribb'd crossgrain. If you could but speak, you'd turn heads around plenty With all you have seen since year nineteen and twenty. Your stained, once-fine clothing is showing it's wear, And your black-painted crown still passes for hair; You wear your age well, but it must be so humbling: The bones of the ones who once loved you now crumbling.