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...FABLES: 1ST SER. 5. THE WILD BOAR AND THE RAM by JOHN GAY THE BURDEN OF NINEVEH by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE WASTE PLACES by JAMES STEPHENS MOON-BRIGHT DREAMS by WILLIAM EDWARD ADAMS AN EPITAPH UPON THE DEATH OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY by RICHARD BARNFIELD |