Ballads of books

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Brander Matthews
Dodd, Mead & Co., 1899 - Book verse - 174 pages
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Poetry in praise of books and book collecting, mostly nineteenth century light verse, both bRitish and American. Some are still fun, a few are moving, like Longfellow's poem comparing his books in his old age to the armor once worn by an old knight. Read full review

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Page 128 - Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old: My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day. With them I take delight in weal And seek relief in woe; And while I understand and feel How much to them I owe, My cheeks have often been bedew'd With tears of thoughtful gratitude.
Page 128 - With tears of thoughtful gratitude. My thoughts are with the Dead ; with them I live in long-past years, Their virtues love, their faults condemn, Partake their hopes and fears, And from their lessons seek and find Instruction with an humble mind.
Page ix - One gift the Fairies gave me: (Three They commonly bestowed of yore) The Love of Books, the Golden Key That opens the Enchanted Door...
Page 110 - SILENT companions of the lonely hour, Friends, who can never alter or forsake, Who for inconstant roving have no power, And all neglect, perforce, must calmly take, — Let me return to YOU ; this turmoil ending Which worldly cares have in my spirit wrought, And, o'er your old familiar pages bending, Refresh my mind with many a tranquil thought...
Page 154 - And last, of vulgar tribes a countless crowd. First, let us view the form, the size, the dress; For these the manners, nay the mind, express: That weight of wood, with leathern coat o'erlaid; Those ample clasps, of solid metal made; The close-press'd leaves, unclosed for many an age; The dull red edging of the well-fill'd page; On the broad back the stubborn ridges roll'd, Where yet the title stands in tarnish'd gold...
Page 120 - As one who, destined from his friends to part, Regrets his loss, but hopes again erewhile To share their converse and enjoy their smile, And tempers as he may affliction's dart...
Page 73 - Thou that mak'st gain thy end, and wisely well, Call'st a book good, or bad, as it doth sell, Use mine so too ; I give thee leave: but crave, For the luck's sake, it thus much favour have, To lie upon thy stall, till it be sought ; Not...
Page 20 - To lend, thus lose, their books, Are snared by anglers — folks that fish With literary hooks. Who call and take some favorite tome, But never read it through ; They thus complete their set at home By making one at you. I, of my " Spenser " quite bereft, Last winter sore was shaken ; Of " Lamb " I've but a quarter left, Nor could I save my " Bacon ;" And then I saw my " Crabbe " at last, Like Hamlet, backward go, And, as the tide was ebbing fast, Of course I lost my
Page 26 - SPEAK low—tread softly through these halls; Here Genius lives enshrined ; Here reign, in silent majesty, The monarchs of the mind. A mighty spirit-host they come, From every age and clime; Above the buried wrecks of years, They breast the tide of Time.
Page 168 - But lost, for ever lost, to me these joys, Which Reason scatters, and which Time destroys ; Too dearly bought : maturer judgment calls My busied mind from tales and madrigals ; My doughty giants all are slain or fled, And all my knights — blue, green, and yellow — dead! No more the midnight fairy tribe I view, All in the merry moonshine tippling dew ; E'en the last lingering fiction of the brain, The churchyard ghost is now at rest again ; And all these wayward wanderings of my youth Fly Reason's...

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