Books

What worlds of wonder are our books!

As one opens them and looks,

New ideas and people rise

In our fancies and our eyes.

The room we sit in melts away,

And we find ourselves at play

With some one who, before the end,

May become our chosen friend.

Or we sail along the page

To some other land or age.

Here's our body in the chair,

But our mind is over there.

Each book is a magic box,

Which with a touch a child unlocks.

In between their outside covers

Books hold all things for their lovers.

Eleanor Farjeon