Classic Poem

“I really am obliged to you for bringing back my book,
It moves me much to look whereon I thought no more to look;
It 'minds me of the early time when it was lent to you,
When life was young and hope was fair, and this old book was new.

“How well does memory recall the gilt that on it shone
The day I saw it, coveted, and bought it for my own;
And vividly I recollect you called around that day,
Admired it, then borrowed it, and carried it away!

“And now it comes to me again across the lapse of time,
Wearing the somewhat battered look of those beyond their prime.
Old book, you need a rest—but ere you're laid upon the shelf,
Just try and hang together till I read you through myself.”