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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=390871" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>De Amicitiis</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though care and strife<br> Elsewhere be rife,<br>Upon my word I do not heed 'em;<br> In bed I lie<br> With books hard by,<br>And with increasing zest I read 'em.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Propped up in bed,<br> So much I've read<br>Of musty tomes that I've a headful<br> Of tales and rhymes<br> Of ancient times,<br>Which, wife declares, are &quot;simply dreadful!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> They give me joy<br> Without alloy;<br>And isn't that what books are made for?<br> And yet--and yet--<br> (Ah, vain regret!)<br>I would to God they all were paid for!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> No festooned cup<br> Filled foaming up<br>Can lure me elsewhere to confound me;<br> Sweeter than wine<br> This love of mine<br>For these old books I see around me!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> A plague, I say,<br> On maidens gay;<br>I'll weave no compliments to tell 'em!<br> Vain fool I were,<br> Did I prefer<br>Those dolls to these old friends in vellum!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> At dead of night<br> My chamber's bright<br>Not only with the gas that's burning,<br> But with the glow<br> Of long ago,--<br>Of beauty back from eld returning.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Fair women's looks<br> I see in books,<br>I see them, and I hear their laughter,--<br> Proud, high-born maids,<br> Unlike the jades<br>Which men-folk now go chasing after!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Herein again<br> Speak valiant men<br>Of all nativities and ages;<br> I hear and smile<br> With rapture while<br>I turn these musty, magic pages.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The sword, the lance,<br> The morris dance,<br>The highland song, the greenwood ditty,<br> Of these I read,<br> Or, when the need,<br>My Miller grinds me grist that's gritty!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> When of such stuff<br> We've had enough,<br>Why, there be other friends to greet us;<br> We'll moralize<br> In solemn wise<br>With Plato or with Epictetus.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Sneer as you may,<br> I'm proud to say<br>That I, for one, am very grateful<br> To Heaven, that sends<br> These genial friends<br>To banish other friendships hateful!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And when I'm done,<br> I'd have no son<br>Pounce on these treasures like a vulture;<br> Nay, give them half<br> My epitaph,<br>And let them share in my sepulture.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Then, when the crack<br> Of doom rolls back<br>The marble and the earth that hide me,<br> I'll smuggle home<br> Each precious tome,<br>Without a fear my wife shall chide me!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Eugene+Field">Eugene Field</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=390871" data-title="De Amicitiis de Eugene Field" data-description="Though care and strife
 Elsewhere be rife,
Upon my word I do not heed 'em;
 In bed I lie
 With books hard by,
And with increasing zest I read 'em.

 Propped up in bed,
 So much I've read
Of musty tomes that I've a headful
 Of tales and rhymes
 Of ..."></div>
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