a poem about toothbrushes

I received my used copy of Phyllis McGinley's poems. The woman wrote on every subject, and with such cleverness!

My Six Toothbrushes

 Against the pure, reflective tiles,

Northeast a little of the shower,

Gaudy as crocuses they flower.

The colors vary; but the styles

Are recommended and didactic

(Some Fuller and some Prophylactic).

I cannot, it is strange, recall

When impulse sent me forth to buy

These gauds, or where or even why.

But here they dangle on my wall,

Symbols of vanity and hope.

I watch them shimmer while I soap

And am astonished, more or less,

Discovering how has lived in me

Such rage against mortality

That I this morning should possess

Six, six! and all set dense as thistles

With tough, imperishable bristles.

Polychromatic, they confront

My startled, half-abluted eyes.

Do these, I think, epitomize

The frivolous trophies of my Hunt?

Is my one Creed. my guidestar polar,

In corpore sano*, sana molar,

Which has no care for kind or witty

Or learned ways or actual grace?

Disturbing. Well, in any case,

At least they do look rather pretty

Hanging redundantly in files

Against the cool, reflective tiles.

* apparently means "a healthy mind in a healthy body"