Books and Thoughts

av Aldous Huxley.


Bokormen, av Carl Spitzweg.


Old ghosts that death forgot to ferry

Across the Lethe of the years -

These are my friends, and at their tears

I weep and with their mirth am merry.

On a high tower, whose battlements

Give me all heaven at a glance,

I lie long summer nights in trance,

Drowsed by the murmurs and the scents

That rise from earth, while the sky above me

Merges its peace with my soul's peace,

Deep meeting deep. No stir can move me,

Nought break the quiet of my release:


In vain the windy sunlight raves

At the hush and gloom of polar caves.

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