Thoughts in a Library.
Speak low! tread softly through these halls;
Here genius lives enshrined;
Here reign in silent majesty
The monarchs of the mind.
A mighty spirit host they come
From every age and clime;
Above the buried wrecks of years
They breast the tide of time.
Here shall the poets chant for thee
Their sweetest, loftiest lays,
And prophets wait to guide thy steps
In Wisdom's pleasant ways.
Come, with these God-anointed kings
Be thou companion here;
And in the mighty realm of mind
Thou shalt go forth a peer!
Anne C. Lynch Botta.
Verses in a Library.
Give me that book whose power is such
That I forget the north wind's touch.
Give me that book that brings to me
Forgetfulness of what I be.
Give me that book that takes my life
In seeming far from all its strife.