_Personal Talk_. W. WORDSWORTH.
Silent companions of the lonely hour,
Friends, who can alter or forsake.
Who for inconstant roving have no power,
And all neglect, perforce, must calmly take.
_To My Books_. MRS. C. NORTON.
Some books are drenched sands,
On which a great soul's wealth lies all in heaps,
Like a wrecked argosy.
_A Life Drama_. ALEX. SMITH.
Worthy books
Are not companions--they are solitudes:
We lose ourselves in them and all our cares.
_Festus: Sc. A Village Feast. Evening_. P.J. BAILEY.
'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print;
A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers_. LORD BYRON.
Golden volumes! richest treasures,
Objects of delicious pleasures!
You my eyes rejoicing please,
You my hands in rapture seize!
Brilliant wits and musing sages,
Lights who beamed through many ages!
Left to your conscious leaves their story,
And dared to trust you with their glory;
And now their hope of fame achieved,
Dear volumes! you have not deceived!
_Curiosities of Literature. Libraries_. I. DISRAELI.
That place that does contain
My books, the best companions, is to me
A glorious court, where hourly I converse
With the old sages and philosophers.
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