Featured Poem: Among His Books by Edith Nesbit
It's the last Bank Holiday for a few months, so why not take full advantage and stay in relaxation mode for a little while longer by reading this week's Featured Poem?
Just recently saw the 155th anniversary of Edith Nesbit's birth. She was best known for her children's books, of which The Railway Children was the most popular - and an extract from the book is featured in A Little, Aloud for Children, so you can dive in and begin enjoying the adventure for yourself. Being among books is surely the perfect way to spend the Bank Holiday - before you immerse yourself amongst the shelves, see if you can be surprised by this verse...
Among His Books
A silent room – grey with a dusty blight
A room with not enough of light
Its form to dress.
Books enough though! The groaning sofa bears
A goodly store –
Books on the window-seat, and on the chairs,
And on the floor.
Books of all sorts of soul, all sorts of age,
All sorts of face –
Black-letter, vellum, and the flimsy page
All bindings, from the cloth whose hue distracts
One's weary nerves,
To yellow parchment, binding rare old tracts
It serves – deserves.
Books on the shelves, and in the cupboard books,
Worthless and rare –
Books on the mantelpiece – wheree'er one looks
Books! Books! The only things in life I find
Not wholly vain.
Books in my hands – books in my heart enshrined –
Books in my brain.
My friends are they: for children and for wife
They serve me too;
For these alone, of all dear things in life,
Have I found true.
They do not flatter, change, deny, deceive –
Ah no – not they!
The same editions which one night you leave
You find next day.
You don't find railway novels where you left
Your Aldines don't betray you – leave bereft
Your lonely years!
And yet this common Book of Common Prayer
My heart prefers,
Because the names upon the fly-leaf there
Are mine and hers.
It's a dead flower that makes it open so –
The Marriage Service…well, my dear, you know
Who first forgot.
Those were the days when in the choir we two
Sat – used to sing –
When I believed in God, in love, in you –
Through quiet lanes to church we used to come,
Happy and good,
Clasp hands through sermon, and go slowly home
Down through the wood.
Kisses? A certain yellow rose no doubt
That porch still shows;
Whenever I hear kisses talked about,
I smell that rose!
No – I don't blame you – since you only proved
My choice unwise,
And taught me books should trusted be and loved,
Not lips and eyes!
And so I keep your book – your flower – to show
How much I care
For the dear memory of what, you know,
You never were.
In need of some reading to inspire you before the last of the summer sun shines upon us? All of The Reader Organisation's anthologies, including A Little, Aloud for Children, and the bumper 50th celebratory issue of The Reader magazine are available to buy from our website - plenty to keep your spirits up as Autumn fast approaches!
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