<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" href="poem.xsl"?>
<poem title="The Old Artwork">
<author>Philip Burton</author>
<date>09/02/2008</date>
<verse>
<line>Sunshine has faded the sun and the sea.</line>
<line> A spider web hangs where a pin used to be.</line>
<line> Old Father Time has wrinkled the paper.</line>
<line> The paint has peeled and come off as a wafer.</line>
<line> The cloud in the sky is no longer snow white.</line>
<line> The edge is all waved where a mouse took a bite.</line>
</verse>
<verse>
<line>Why is this picture so long on display?</line>
<line> Teacher puts fresher ones round it each day</line>
<line> but this is a painting she&#039;ll never unfix &#45;</line>
<line>a painting she painted when she was aged six.</line>
</verse>
<verse>
<line>I hope that when I&#039;m an hundred and three</line>
<line> I&#039;ll treasure a picture painted by me.</line>
</verse>
</poem>

