I care not that some other man, When I am dead and gone, Will play my part upon the stage That I have trod upon; Will lord it in my very house, Will tend my bit of ground, Will do my work in just the same Perpetual pleasant round. I'll let him use my desk, my pen, And all my household nooks; But I shall haunt him if he dares Lay hands upon my books! To think that some unheeding boor May soil my Aldrich fair, Or break my Chaucer's back, or mar My Hazlitt debonair! To think that some unhallowed thumb May dog's-ear all my Lamb, -- My soul will shiver in dismay, No matter where I am! I see them in their piteous plight, Their pages torn and frayed, Their binding loose, their covers bent, I see, and cannot aid. I even see them -- at the sight My heavenly harp will fall -- Exposed among the "second-hands" Upon a sidewalk stall. I see them marked a paltry dime, I see the careless throng Pause casually to tumble them, And sneering pass along. Ah me! Ah me! I do not mind That shrouds are pocketless; My little gold, my bank account, I leave with willingness; But oh, that some celestial van, Some spacious van were given, That I might put my books therein, And pack them off to heaven! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THAT SUCH HAVE DIED by EMILY DICKINSON MARY MAGDALEN by BARTOLOME LEONARDO DE ARGENSOLA PSALM 73: INTRODUCTORY LINES by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE CLOISTER OF THE FALLING SNOW by SYLVIA HORTENSE BLISS SUFFRAGE MARCHING-SONG by LOUIS JAMES BLOCK THE CAGED LION by ANNE MILLAY BREMER ABER STATIONS: STATIO SEXTA by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN A SOLILOQUY ON THE COURSE AND CONSQUENCE OF A DOUBTING MIND by JOHN BYROM EPILOGUE: HURLO-THRUMBO; A PLAY BY SAMUEL JOHNSON by JOHN BYROM |