Part 7

=A Final Word.=

_THE COLLECTOR TO HIS LIBRARY._

_Brown Books of mine, who never yet Have caused me anguish or regret,-- Save when some fiend in human shape Has set your tender sides agape, Or soiled with some unmanly smear The whiteness of your page sincere, Or scored you with some phrase inane, The bantling of his idle brain,-- I love you: and because must end This commerce between friend and friend, I do beseech each kindly fate-- To each and all I supplicate-- That you whom I have loved so long May not be vended "for a song,"-- That you, my dear desire and care, May 'scape the common thoroughfare, The dust, the eating rain, and all The shame and squalor of the stall. Rather I trust your lot may touch Some Croesus--if there should be such-- To buy you, and that you may so From Croesus unto Croesus go Till that inevitable day When comes your moment of decay._

_This, more than other good, I pray._

AUSTIN DOBSON.