Ode to the 128
Why do collectors so berate
The unassuming one-two-eight?
A humble style, no doubt of that;
No Emmingers, no Pilgrim Hat.
And not so old as some designs,
Not so long upon the lines,
Nor any sort of rarity...
They do abound, it seems to me,
In boxes, buckets, bushel baskets,
At every shop, if you but ask it.
Yes, abundant one-two-eights
Are scattered all across the States,
In palest yellow, icy green,
In smoke and straw - and I have seen
One-twenty-eights the very hue
Of Old Milwaukee's finest brew.
But there is one that stands apart:
Once you've peered into the heart
Of opalescent mystery,
The Hemingray E-14 B
Will haunt and taunt you, lure your eyes,
And leave you sighing lustful sighs.
So how can some detractors utter
Epithets like "cannon fodder"
When they regard the one-two-eight?
How can they give so little weight
To the supernatural clarity
Of Pyrex one-two-eights? I see
No crystal quite so purely clear
(Nor any I hold quite so dear).
And so I feel I must beseech
You all, my friends, with hand outreached
Today, your wireglass sins confess...
Embrace the much-maligned CS.
Repent, I say to those derisive!
Repent, and cease to be divisive!
Acknowledge now the simple grace,
The economic use of space,
The sturdy confidence of line
That marks the one-two-eight's design.
My friends, my fellows, I do trust
The greatness dwells in each of us
To stand proud and appreciate
The honorable one-two-eight.
By: Carol Kerns