In Praise Of Books- I

Books, testaments of ken, shrines of fine learning,
Knowledge edifices, hard-wearing seem
Than those stone-built and made to look so grim,
And oft by a Papal decree set burning.
Books, besides, must have been resilient more—
Look at old wisdom standing still robust,
Letters intact, whose syllables still soar,
Stone temples whilst are done to kiss the dust.

For every page of a book burnt in rage,
For every book’s past lost by flame in shame,
More words escape to freedom from each page,
O to rise up like a phoenix from flame.
If he that slays should fall from God’s image,
He that burns books mars mankind’s fair visage.
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Sonnets | 04.06.13 |