Again, in sympathetic mood,
She gayly smiles at Gay,
And punches Punch, and frowns at Sterne
In quite a dreadful way.
In vain the Sermons shake their heads:
She does not care for these;
But catches, with intense delight,
At all the Tales she sees.
Where authors chance to meet her views,
Just praise they never lack;
To comfort and encourage them,
She pats them on the back.
MY BOOKS.
Francis Bennoch. From the 'Storm and Other Poems.'
1878.
I love my books as drinkers love their wine;
The more I drink, the more they seem divine;
With joy elate my soul in love runs o'er,
And each fresh draught is sweeter than before.
Books bring me friends where'er on earth I be,—
Solace of solitude,—bonds of society!
I love my books! they are companions dear,
Sterling in worth, in friendship most sincere;
Here talk I with the wise in ages gone,
And with the nobly gifted of our own.
If love, joy, laughter, sorrow please my mind,
Love, joy, grief, laughter in my books I find.