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69
IN THE LIBRARY AT ELMWOOD
These are the friends whom he loved: these books that reveal on their pages
Pencilled marks of approval, as one claps a friend on the shoulder
Who has uttered a witty or wise thing. These are the friends he loved best,
And he knew them as one knows a brother. Now they look down from their places,
At evening and morning and mid-day, and mourn his untimely departure.
Many a time on their leaves has his white hand lovingly rested;
Many a time has he gone to these friends for their generous counsel;
Often and often have they and the poet made merry together.
Pencilled marks of approval, as one claps a friend on the shoulder
Who has uttered a witty or wise thing. These are the friends he loved best,
And he knew them as one knows a brother. Now they look down from their places,
At evening and morning and mid-day, and mourn his untimely departure.
Many a time on their leaves has his white hand lovingly rested;
Many a time has he gone to these friends for their generous counsel;
Often and often have they and the poet made merry together.
70
Now the sweet converse has past, and the glow of the fire on the hearthstone
Flashes across the dark faces that leaned from the shelves to speak to him
In accents that he understood whatever the tongue that was spoken;
Gleams on the papers that lie on the stand where he carelessly tossed them;
Glitters on ceiling and walls but no longer discovers the presence,
Gracious and courteous ever, that once made the scholar's apartment
Seem like the throne of a king when he sat there by such friends surrounded.
Flashes across the dark faces that leaned from the shelves to speak to him
In accents that he understood whatever the tongue that was spoken;
Gleams on the papers that lie on the stand where he carelessly tossed them;
Glitters on ceiling and walls but no longer discovers the presence,
Gracious and courteous ever, that once made the scholar's apartment
Seem like the throne of a king when he sat there by such friends surrounded.
1891
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