JEALOUSY
As you peruse those heavy, dusty volumesWith tense attention hour after hour,Whilst totally indifferent to me,—To me, who sees in you the book of books,To whom the very cover of this book,Your outward aspect, is more interestingThan the contents of all books ever printed.Is it a wonder I would like to buildA mammoth pile of all the books there areAnd let the raging fire consume them all?
As you peruse those heavy, dusty volumesWith tense attention hour after hour,Whilst totally indifferent to me,—To me, who sees in you the book of books,To whom the very cover of this book,Your outward aspect, is more interestingThan the contents of all books ever printed.Is it a wonder I would like to buildA mammoth pile of all the books there areAnd let the raging fire consume them all?
As you peruse those heavy, dusty volumesWith tense attention hour after hour,Whilst totally indifferent to me,—To me, who sees in you the book of books,To whom the very cover of this book,Your outward aspect, is more interestingThan the contents of all books ever printed.
As you peruse those heavy, dusty volumes
With tense attention hour after hour,
Whilst totally indifferent to me,—
To me, who sees in you the book of books,
To whom the very cover of this book,
Your outward aspect, is more interesting
Than the contents of all books ever printed.
Is it a wonder I would like to buildA mammoth pile of all the books there areAnd let the raging fire consume them all?
Is it a wonder I would like to build
A mammoth pile of all the books there are
And let the raging fire consume them all?