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Sadly as some old mediaeval knight

Gazed at the arms he could no longer wield,

The sword two-handed and the shining shield

Suspended in the hall, and full in sight,

While secret longings for the lost delight

Of tourney or adventure in the field

Came over him, and tears but half concealed

Trembled and fell upon his beard of white,

So I behold these books upon their shelf,

My ornaments and arms of other days;

Not wholly useless, though no longer used,

For they remind me of my other self,

Younger and stronger, and the pleasant ways,

In which I walked, now clouded and confused.


H. W. Longfellow.

The Book-Lovers' Anthology

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