The Books I cannot hope to buy, Their phantoms round me waltz and wheel; They pass before the dreaming eye, Ere sleep the dreaming eye can seal. A kind of literary reel They dance; how fair the bindings shine! Prose cannot tell them what I feel- The books that never can be mine! There frisk editions rare and shy, Morocco clad from head to heel; Shakespearian quartos; Comedy As first she flashed from Richard Steele; And quaint De Foe on Mrs. Veal; And, lord of landing net and line, Old Izaak with his fishing creel,- The books that never can be mine! Incunables! for you I sigh, Black letter, at thy founts I kneel; Old tales of Perrault's nursery, For you I'd go without a meal! For books wherein did Aldus deal And rare Galliot du Pré I pine. The watches of the night reveal The books that never can be mine! Envoy Prince, hear a hopeless bard's appeal; Reverse the rules of Mine and Thine; Make it legitimate to steal The books that never can be mine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING, 1916 by ISAAC ROSENBERG SIX O'CLOCK by TRUMBULL STICKNEY ONE PERSON: 16 by ELINOR WYLIE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 15. AL-GHAFFAR by EDWIN ARNOLD PSALMS 71. PRAYER AND SONG OF THE AGED CHRISTIAN by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE NEW WORLD; TO THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES by LAURENCE BINYON |