I watched him one day fingering a shelf
Caressingly, forgetful of himself
And all around him. Very well I knew
He could not see the titles, but he threw
A touch of ownership into his hand
As if he still were privileged to command
Their journeyings. I paused to read his face.
In all that sunny, quiet, crowded place
There was not one who wore so proud a look
As if he knew he was with friends, and took
Sweet pleasure in the knowledge.
Row by row
His fingers greeted them in gentle, slow,
And measured salutation. Long years moved
In memory past those volumes that he loved;
Season of service, outgrown now and gone
Like old books over-read, dog-eared and torn,
Thrown to the dustheap!
And I turned away
Lest my quick tears should cause him
some dismay!
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Comments
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Fond memories, we're nostalgic about those things we once loved, even when they've ceased to be of any use to us...or rather, us to them. Often our memories are all we have of those times...times we can never have again.
I won't mention the possible contradiction between line 4 and the last three.
Reminiscent to the Holman Day poem that is featured today, and of course I forget the title, lol. But show how time can pass us by.
Enjoyable poem that with my aging eyes I can identify with, but it was somewhat marred for me by the overly sentimental ending. -
The library is a place full of wonders and delight. This poem captures this spirit and adds the touch of sadness of someone saying goodbye.
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There is this lining of deep emotion that can be easily felt even though it's as if the writer is trying somehow to disguise it but really can't. Very powerful
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Such sadness here as the Librarian is saying goodbye to his beloved books, cared for during a lifetime of love and respect. Watched by another who can feel his pain, his love and regret at leaving them. 'He could not see the titles,' say to me that his eyesight has been sacrificed for his love of the books. I also feel that he knows the books by touch and doesn't need to see the title - far-fetched I realise but the whole theme of this lovely poem is the man and his revered books.
Vonnie
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