Stack of Books

Here stand my books, line upon line
They reach the roof, and row by row,
They speak of faded tastes of mine,
And things I did, but do not, know.
***
The watches of the night reveal
The books that never can be mine!
***
One gift the fairies gave me: (three
They commonly bestowed of yore)
The love of books, the golden key
That opens the enchanted door.
***
When others fail him, the wise man looks
To the sure companionship of books.
***
I'd leave all the hurry, the noise, and
the fray,
For a house full of books, and a garden of flowers.

--Andrew Lang (1844-1912)