Such is the Cold Cast Irony of Fate.
At last the Train arrived, and with it too
Your Book—a Precious Package marked "collect."
Raptured I read it through and through, and through,
And then I paused in sadness to reflect—
How that same Book had been a priceless boon,
But for a little accident of Date;
If only I had not been born so soon,
Or if you had not gone to press so late.
O Book, if only you had come to me