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Poem by Robert William Service
I am a mild man, you'll agree, But red my rage is, When folks who borrow books from me Turn down their pages. Or when a chap a book I lend, And find he's loaned it Without permission to a friend - As if he owned it. But worst of all I hate those crooks (May hell-fires burn them!) Who beg the loan of cherished books And don't return them. My books are tendrils of myself No shears can sever... May he who rapes one from its shelf Be damned forever.
Robert William Service
Robert William Service's other poems:
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