I am a book, remaindered on a shelf.
O take me down and dust me off,
I still can bring delight.
Once I was new and valued for myself,
My pages bright, my boards of cloth –
Ah then I brought delight.
Now on the lower shelves the readers browse,
While I look down and mutely sigh
I still can bring delight.
There once I welcomed readers to carouse
With me enthralled and hold me tight,
For then I brought delight.
I can’t believe it’s over and I must
Resign myself to indifference
While still I hold delight?
Tho faded my jacket and on my top sits dust
If opened up my heart holds sense
And still can bring delight.
Reflections on poetry hunting to compile a program of Savile poets. March 2019.
