Page 21 - Poetry-Books

“It shall be so, I’ll give the shaven deal
A coat of paint—a colorable dress,
To look like calf or vellum, and conceal
Its nakedness.”

“And, gilt and lettered with the author’s name,
Whatever is most excellent and rare
Shall be, or seem to be (‘tis all the same),
Assembled there.”

The work was done; the simulated hoards
Of wit and wisdom round the chamber stood,
In binding some; and some, of course, in boards,
Where all were wood.

From bulky folios down to slender twelves
The choicest tomes, in many an even row
Displayed their lettered backs upon the shelves,
A goodly show.

With such a stock as seemingly surpassed
The best collection ever formed in Spain,
What wonder if the owner grew at last
Supremely vain?

What wonder, as he paced from shelf to shelf,
And conned their titles, that the squire began,
Despite his ignorance, to think himself
A learned man?

Let every amateur, who merely looks
To backs and binding, take the hint, and sell
His costly library—for painted books
Would serve as well.

—Tomas Yriarte (from “Literary Fables,” reprinted in Ballads of
Books, 1887)

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