READING.
I had found the secret of a garret room
Piled high with cases in my father's name;
Piled high, packed large,—where, creeping in and out
Among the giant fossils of my past,
Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs
Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there
At this or that box, pulling through the gap,
In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy,
The first book first. And how I felt it beat
Under my pillow, in the morning's dark,
An hour before the sun would let me read!
Aurora Leigh, Bk. I. E.B. BROWNING.
Come, and take choice of all my library,
And so beguile thy sorrow.
Titus Andronicus, Act iv. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
He furnished me
From mine own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.
Tempest, Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
There studious let me sit,
And hold high converse with the mighty dead;
Sages of ancient time, as gods revered,
As gods beneficent, who blest mankind
With arts, with arms, and humanized a world.
The Seasons: Winter. J. THOMSON.
POLONIUS.—What do you read, my lord?
HAMLET.—Words, words, words.
Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
O Reader! had you in your mind
Such stores as silent thought may bring,
O gentle Reader! you would find
A tale in everything.
Simon Lee. W. WORDSWORTH.
And choose an author as you choose a friend.
Essay on Translated Verse. EARL OF ROSCOMMON.
When the last reader reads no more.
The Last Reader. O.W. HOLMES.