Among My Books
Among my books-what rest is there
From wasting woes! what balm for care!
If ills appal or clouds hang low,
And drooping dim the fleeting show,
I revel still in visions rare.
At will I breathe the classic air,
The wanderings of Ulysses share;
Or see the plume of Bayard flow
Among my books.
Whatever face the world may wear-
If Lilian has no smile to spare,
For others let her beauty blow,
Such favours I can well forgo;
Perchance forget the frowning fair
Among my books.
Samuel Minturn Peck.