BROWN Books of mine, who never yet Have caused me anguish or regret, -- Save when some fiend in human shape Has set your tender sides agape, Or soiled with some unmanly smear The candour of your margin clear, Or writ you with some phrase inane, The bantling of an idle brain, -- I love you: and because must end This commerce between friend and friend, I do implore each kindly Fate -- To each and all I supplicate -- That you, whom I have loved so long, May not be vended 'for a song'; -- That you, my dear desire and care, May 'scape the common thoroughfare, The dust, the eating rain, and all The shame and squalor of the Stall. Rather I trust your lot may touch Some Croesus -- if there should be such -- To buy you, and that you may so From Croesus unto Croesus go Till that inevitable day When comes your moment of decay. This, more than other good, I pray. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NEW-MADE HONOUR (IMITATED FROM MARTIAL) by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM LINES WRITTEN AT THE GRAVE OF ALEXANDER DUMAS by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT THE BRAVE OLD OAK by HENRY FOTHERGILL CHORLEY HUMAN LIFE: ON THE DENIAL OF IMMORTALITY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE PERIMEDES, THE BLACKSMITH: PHILLIS AND CORIDON by ROBERT GREENE REQUIEM FOR ONE SLAIN IN BATTLE by GEORGE LUNT WELCOME, LITTLE STRANGER (BY A DISPLACED THREE-YEAR-OLD) by CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS |