This volume is a relic of the past.
It sags a little tiredly from long-kept
And weighty knowledge painfully amassed
And guarded while the generations slept
Not much aware, nor caring. Book shops sold
And then acquired it, back and forth,
The silver words exchanged for dressy gold
Without an intimation of true worth.
There on my shelf this tattered tome commands
Respect although its yellowed pages now
Get not a passing glance. Who understands,
When we ignore the writer’s message, how
Two words, a hackneyed trite expression such
As “First Edition” can be worth so much?
by Ray Romine Tuesday, November 27, 1951
