Here stand my books, line upon line <br />They reach the roof, and row by row, <br />They speak of faded tastes of mine, <br />And things I did, but do not, know: <br />Old school books, useless long ago, <br />Old Logics, where the spirit, railed in, <br />Could scarcely answer 'yes' or 'no' - <br />The many things I've tried and failed in! <br /> <br />Here's Villon, in morocco fine, <br />(The Poet starved, in mud and snow,) <br />Glatigny does not crave to dine, <br />And Rene's tears forget to flow. <br />And here's a work by Mrs. Crowe, <br />With hosts of ghosts and bogies jailed in; <br />Ah, all my ghosts have gone below - <br />The many things I've tried and failed in! <br /> <br />He's touched, this mouldy Greek divine, <br />The Princess D'Este's hand of snow; <br />And here the arms of D'Hoym shine, <br />And there's a tear-bestained Rousseau: <br />Here's Carlyle shrieking 'woe on woe' <br />(The first edition, this, he wailed in); <br />I once believed in him--but oh, <br />The many things I've tried and failed in! <br /> <br />ENVOY. <br /> <br />Prince, tastes may differ; mine and thine <br />Quite other balances are scaled in; <br />May you succeed, though I repine - <br />'The many things I've tried and failed in!'<br /><br />Andrew Lang<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballade-of-his-books/
