Friday, April 9, 2010

Of the Book-Hunter

In torrid heats of late July,
In search, beneath the bitter bise,
He book-hunts whiles the loungers fly-
He book-hunts, through December freeze;
In breeches baggy at the knees,
And heedless of the public jeers,
For these, for these, he hoards his fees-
Aldines, Bodinis, Elzevirs.
-Andrew Lang

Photographs by verticalspace


StuckInABook said...

love the poem, and even more love the beauiful photographs!

Daniel-Halifax said...

If you ever visit America you MUST go to the Book Mill, a 19th century mill on a river in the woods, with sky high windows and mountains of books!

victoria thorne said...

The Book Mill. Someday.

Magnificent eyes you have, thank you.

Carrick said...