_Take all, but leave my Books to me! These heavy creels of old we love We fill not now, nor wander free, Nor wear the heart that once we wore; Not now each River seems to pour His waters from the Muse's hill; Though something's gone from stream and shore, The Books I love, I love them still!_
_Fate, that art Queen by shore and sea, We bow submissive to thy will, Ah grant, by some benign decree, The Books I loved--to love them still._ A. LANG.
PROEM. [1]_Ballade of the Bookworm_ (A. Lang) ix
EDWARD D. ANDERSON. _The Baby in the Library_ 17
LAMAN BLANCHARD. _The Art of Book-Keeping_ 20
CATULLUS. [1]_To his Book_ (Translated by A. Lang) 32
THOMAS S. COLLIER. [1]_The Forgotten Books_ 34
HELEN GRAY CONE. _An Invocation in a Library_ 36
SAMUEL DANIEL. _Concerning the Honor of Books_ 38
_To a Missal of the Thirteenth Century_ 42
HENRY DRURY. _Over the Threshold of my Library_ 46
MAURICE F. EGAN. _The Chrysalis of a Bookworm_ 47
EVENUS. _Epigram_ (Translated by A. Lang) 48
F. FERTIAULT. _Triolet to her Husband_ (Translated by A. Lang) 57
EDMUND GOSSE. [1]_The Sultan of my Books_ 60
THOMAS GORDON HAKE. _Our Book-Shelves_ 64
HORACE. [1]_To his Books_ (Translated by Austin Dobson) 68
CHARLES LAMB. _In the Album of Lucy Barton_ 75
GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP. [1]_The Book Battalion_ 91
WALTER LEARNED. [1]_On the Fly-Leaf of a Book of Old Plays_ 93
FREDERICK LOCKER. [1]_From the Fly-Leaf of the Rowfant Montaigne_ 97
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. _My Books_ 98
SAMUEL MINTURN PECK. _Among my Books_ 116
WALTER HERRIES POLLOCK. [1]_A Ruined Library_ 117
BRYAN WALLER PROCTER (Barry Cornwall). _My Books_ 119
WILLIAM ROSCOE. _To my Books on Parting with Them_ 120
FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN. _The Book-Hunter_ 126
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. _Picture-Books in Winter_ 130
CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER. _On Certain Books_ 135
SAMUEL WADDINGTON. [1]_Literature and Nature_ 138
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. _The Library_ 139
A FINAL WORD. [1]_The Collector to his Library_ (Austin Dobson) 173
[1] The poems thus marked were written or translated for the present collection.
EDWARD D. ANDERSON. _From 'Wide-Awake' for May, 1885._
Within these solemn, book-lined walls, Did mortal ever see A critic so unprejudiced, So full of mirthful glee?
Just watch her at that lower shelf: See, there she's thumped her nose Against the place where Webster stands In dignified repose.