. Lyrics from a library . A little stand without the door Whereon scant treasure is arrayed,Yet just enough to tempt explore The inner depths of dust and shade; Enter; how glade on bookish gladeParts right and left to peering eyes, Proclaiming both to man and maid—This is the bookmans paradise! There is a shelf of ancient lore, Black-lettered pages overlaidWith umber mottles, score on score; There is an alcove filled with frayed Tall folios standing stiff and staid,Like kniahts of mediaeval guise; Open, and why tis straight displayedThis is the bookmans paradise. Delve deep, and with what gold
. Lyrics from a library . A little stand without the door Whereon scant treasure is arrayed,Yet just enough to tempt explore The inner depths of dust and shade; Enter; how glade on bookish gladeParts right and left to peering eyes, Proclaiming both to man and maid—This is the bookmans paradise! There is a shelf of ancient lore, Black-lettered pages overlaidWith umber mottles, score on score; There is an alcove filled with frayed Tall folios standing stiff and staid,Like kniahts of mediaeval guise; Open, and why tis straight displayedThis is the bookmans paradise. Delve deep, and with what golden ore,—What riches will your hands be weighed I Each corner owns its precious store,—Poets from Homer down to Praed,Philosophers, and those that trade In tales that scoffers label lies;—The few whose fame shall never fade;— This is the bookmans paradise. Collectors, of each grain and grade, When ye shall come to price a prize, Although ye may be sore dismayed,This is the bookmans paradise! 28. BOOKWORMS PLAINT To-day, when I had dined my fillUpon a Caxton,—you know Will,—I crawled forth oer the colophonTo bask awhile within the sun;And having coiled my sated length,I felt anon my whilom strengthSlip from me gradually, till deepI dropped away in dreamful sleep,Wherein I walked an endless maze,And dined on Caxtons all my days. Then I woke suddenly. Alas!What in my sleep had come to pass?That priceless first edition row,—Squat quarto and tall folio,—Had, in my slumber, vanished quite;Instead, on my astonished sightThe newest novels burst,—a gayAnd most unpalatable array!I, that have battened on the best,Why should I thus be dispossessed,And with starvation, or the worstOf diets, cruelly be curst?
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidlyricsfromli, bookyear1913
