ON dusty shelves in serried ranks they stand, Reproachful thousands, quaint, and grave and great. My guilty conscience hears their mute commands, Yet day by day -- they wait. Their army grows more deadly every year; Their captain-names I cannot call to mind. A friend amid the order would, I fear, Be very hard to find. But to a corner shelf by most forgot, I steal, and to my conscience pay no heed, With boon companions dear. Yet these are not The books I ought to read! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE FOR A SOCIAL MEETING, WITH SLIGHT ALTERATIONS BY A TEETOTALER by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES RAILROAD RHYME by JOHN GODFREY SAXE SONNET: 30 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE BOY BRITTAN [FEBRUARY 8, 1862] by BYRON FORCEYTHE WILLSON A LITTLE PARABLE by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 6. LOVE'S DESPAIR by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |