 | The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe |  |
94
MY BOOKS.
Ah! well I love these books of mine,
That stand so trimly on their shelves,
With here and there a broken line
(Fat “quartos” jostling modest “twelves”),—
A curious company, I own;
The poorest ranking with their betters:
In brief,—a thing almost unknown,—
A Pure Democracy of Letters.
That stand so trimly on their shelves,
With here and there a broken line
(Fat “quartos” jostling modest “twelves”),—
A curious company, I own;
The poorest ranking with their betters:
In brief,—a thing almost unknown,—
A Pure Democracy of Letters.
A motley gathering are they,—
Some fairly worth their weight in gold;
Some just too good to throw away;
Some scarcely worth the place they hold.
Yet well I love them, one and all,—
These friends so meek and unobtrusive,
Who never fail to come at call,
Nor (if I scold them) turn abusive!
Some fairly worth their weight in gold;
Some just too good to throw away;
Some scarcely worth the place they hold.
Yet well I love them, one and all,—
These friends so meek and unobtrusive,
Who never fail to come at call,
Nor (if I scold them) turn abusive!
If I have favorites here and there,
And, like a monarch, pick and choose,
I never meet an angry stare
That this I take and that refuse;
No discords rise my soul to vex
Among these peaceful book-relations,
Nor envious strife of age or sex
To mar my quiet lucubrations.
And, like a monarch, pick and choose,
I never meet an angry stare
That this I take and that refuse;
No discords rise my soul to vex
Among these peaceful book-relations,
Nor envious strife of age or sex
To mar my quiet lucubrations.
And they have still another merit,
Which otherwhere one vainly seeks,
Whate'er may be an author's spirit,
He never uninvited speaks;
And should he prove a fool or clown,
Unworth the precious time you 're spending,
How quickly you can “put him down,”
Or “shut him up,” without offending!
Which otherwhere one vainly seeks,
Whate'er may be an author's spirit,
He never uninvited speaks;
And should he prove a fool or clown,
Unworth the precious time you 're spending,
How quickly you can “put him down,”
Or “shut him up,” without offending!
Here—pleasing sight!—the touchy brood
Of critics from dissension cease;
And—stranger still!—no more at feud,
Polemics smile, and keep the peace.
See! side by side, all free from strife
(Save what the heavy page may smother),
The gentle “Christians” who in life,
For conscience' sake, had burned each other!
Of critics from dissension cease;
And—stranger still!—no more at feud,
Polemics smile, and keep the peace.
See! side by side, all free from strife
(Save what the heavy page may smother),
The gentle “Christians” who in life,
For conscience' sake, had burned each other!
I call them friends, these quiet books,
And well the title they may claim,
Who always give me cheerful looks;
(What living friend has done the same?)
And, for companionship, how few,
As these, my cronies ever present,
Of all the friends I ever knew
Have been so useful and so pleasant?
And well the title they may claim,
Who always give me cheerful looks;
(What living friend has done the same?)
And, for companionship, how few,
As these, my cronies ever present,
Of all the friends I ever knew
Have been so useful and so pleasant?
| The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe | |