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Eugene Field - The Bibliomaniac`s Bride
Work rating: Low

The women-folk are like to books --
  Most pleasing to the eye,
Whereon if anybody looks
  He feels disposed to buy. 

I hear that many are for sale, --
  Those that record no dates,
And such editions as regale
  The view with colored plates. 

Of every quality and grade
  And size they may be found, --
Quite often beautifully made,
  As often poorly bound. 

Now, as for me, had I my choice,
  I `d choose no folio tall,
But some octavo to rejoice
  My sight and heart withal, -- 

As plump and pudgy as a snipe;
  Well worth her weight in gold;
Of honest, clean, conspicuous type,
  And just the size to hold! 

With such a volume for my wife
  How should I keep and con!
How like a dream should run my life
  Unto its colophon! 

Her frontispiece should be more fair
  Than any colored plate;
Blooming with health, she would not care
  To extra-illustrate. 

And in her pages there should be
  A wealth of prose and verse,
With now and then a jeu d`esprit, --
  But nothing ever worse! 

Prose for me when I wished for prose,
  Verse when to verse inclined, --
Forever bringing sweet repose
  To body, heart, and mind. 

Oh, I should bind this priceless prize
  In bindings full and fine,
And keep her where no human eyes
  Should see her charms, but mine! 

With such a fair unique as this
  What happiness abounds!
Who -- who could paint my rapturous bliss,
  My joy unknown to Lowndes!
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