Red-gold and rough morocco are its covers, And sheerest paper bears its weight of truth, Alembic of its one-time lords and lovers, Distilled for wisdom of tomorrow's youth. This book was guarded once; securely chained In the reverberating draughty nave: Initialed and illuminate, it reigned, And, after interval, again shall save. It has awhile been a discarded thing, But columns shall review it on the morrow; Restored to power by its words that sing, Beloved, not for their triumph, but their sorrow, And streets shall pause to hear its harping word, With truth at rhythmic heel of song, its lord. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEFORE A PAINTING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON MAKING THE BED by KAREN SWENSON THE LADY'S 'YES' by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ALEXANDER CRUMMELL - DEAD by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR AN ODE UPON A QUESTION WHETHER LOVE SHOULD CONTINUE FOREVER by EDWARD HERBERT WHY DRINK WINE by HENRY ALDRICH |