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!

DM 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...