Page 23 - Poetry-Books
P. 23
There’s nothing hath enduring youth,
Eternal newness, strength unfailing,
Except old books, old friends, old truth,
That’s ever battling—still prevailing.
‘Tis better in the past to live
Than grovel in the present vilely,
In clubs, and cliques, where placemen hive,
And faction hums, and dolts rank highly.
To be enlightened, counselled, led,
By master minds of former ages,
Come to old books—consult the dead
Commune with silent saints and sages.
Leave me, ye gods! to my old books—
Polemics yield to sects that wrangle—
Vile “parish politics” to folks
Who love to squabble, scheme, and jangle.
Dearly beloved old pigskin tomes!
Of dingy hue—old bookish darlings!
Oh, cluster ever round my rooms,
And banish strifes, disputes, and snarlings.
—Anonymous (Ballads of Books, 1887)
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