Ex Libris

In an old book at even as I read Fast fading words adown my shadowy page, I crossed a tale of how, in other age, At Arqua, with his books around him, sped The word to Petrarch; and with noble head Bowed gently o'er his volume that sweet sage To Silence paid his willing seigniorage. And they who found him whispered, "He is dead!" Thus timely from old comradeships would I To Silence also rise. Let there be night, Stillness, and only these staid watchers by, And no light shine save my low study light -- Lest of his kind intent some human cry Interpret not the Messenger aright.