THESE are folios of April, All the library of spring, Missals gilt and rubricated With the frost's illumining. Ruthless, we destroy these treasures, Set the torch with hand profane -- Gone, like Alexandrian vellums, Like the books of burnt Louvain! Yet these classics are immortal: O collectors, have no fear, For the publisher will issue New editions every year. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON PRUE, HIS MAID by ROBERT HERRICK ON LENDING A PUNCH BOWL by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE COMING STORM' (A PICTURE BY R. S. GIFFORD) by HERMAN MELVILLE HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 6. YEUX GLAUQUES by EZRA POUND PERFECT WOMAN by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH PENITENTIAL PSALM by THOMAS WYATT DECEMBER 31ST by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE RIGHT MARY by CLARIBEL WEEKS AVERY EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 14. THE POWERFUL ATTRACTION by PHILIP AYRES |