One of my favorite poems about books was my “poem of the week” last week.<\/p>\n
Robert Southey (1774-1843)<\/p>\n
“His Books”<\/strong><\/p>\n
My days among the Dead are past;
\nAround me I behold,
\nWhere\u2019er these casual eyes are cast,
\nThe mighty minds of old:
\nMy never failing friends are they,
\nWith whom I converse day by day.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
With them I take delight in weal
\nAnd seek relief in woe;
\nAnd while I understand and feel
\nHow much to them I owe,
\nMy cheeks have often been bedew\u2019d
\nWith tears of thoughtful gratitude.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
My thoughts are with the Dead; with them
\nI live in long-past years,
\nTheir virtues love, their faults condemn,
\nPartake their hopes and fears;
\nAnd from their lessons seek and find
\nInstruction with a humble mind.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
My hopes are with the Dead; anon
\nMy place with them will be,
\nAnd I with them shall travel on
\nThrough all Futurity;
\nYet, leaving here a name, I trust,
\nThat will not perish in the dust.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n