A Ballad of Refrain
We often wonder what could have been the meaning of the scriptural phrase credited to King Solomon, — “Of the making of many books there is no end.” It does not seem likely that in the wise man’s time there was a so vast number of books. The recently discovered Nippur Library—where every page of a volume is a good-sized brick — suggests that it was perhaps the mass rather than the number of hooks which was so gravely impressive. A moderately wealthy Spartan might have been embarrassed by the heavy load of iron he carried about with him.
In our own time this complaint has more significance. The modern deluge of printed matter sometimes impels even the appreciative reader to slip the leash and escape from the traditional bondage to books. Such an impulse of heresy, and of gratitude to those who repress their utterance, is embodied in the following
BALLAD OF REFRAIN
(WITH APOLOGIES TO AUSTIN DOBSON)
Their themes extinct and their passions dead;
When our shelves are weighted by recent verse,
And our tables groan with their books unread;
When a mob is waiting to snatch the thread,
As it spins away from the whirring brain,
Before the ink from the pen is shed —
Then hey! for the hero who can refrain !
That may swiftly fall on the cursor’s head;
When the rising floods of the scribes immerse,
And our tables groan with their books unread;
When the delicate soul is bruised and bled
For the greed of glory, the glut of gain ; When the eyes of the readers are dull as lead,
Then hey ! to the hero who can refrain !
With words that were happier left unsaid,
When trying their best they try us worse,
And our tables groan with their books unread;
When the guests go out from the feast unfed —
Or overfed to repletion’s pain —
When reader and writer refuse to wed.
Then hey! to the hero who can refrain !
ENVOY
When we yearn for the elemental bread. And our tables groan with their books unread,
When the crescent mind begins to wane. Then hey! for the hero who can refrain !