Christopher Morley (5 May 1890 – 28 March 1957 / Haverford, Pennslyvania)
Burning Leaves, November
THESE are the folios of April,
All the library of spring,
Missals gilt and rubricated
With the frost's illumining.
Ruthless, we destroy these treasures,
Set the torch with hand profane-
Gone, like Alexandrian vellums,
Like the books of burnt Louvain!
Yet these classics are immortal:
O collectors, have no fear,
For the publisher will issue
New editions every year.
Comments about this poem (Burning Leaves, November by Christopher Morley )
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