Since it's Dewey's Read-a-thon this weekend and once again I can not participate (boo hoo) I am posting a quick poem in honour of all the readers busy for 24 hours straight.
This is a poem by Eleanor Farjeon, a writer I really love -- I recently read her novel Martin Pippin in the Apple Orchard. All of her work is infused with the rhythms of poetry, either in nursery rhyme or songs or poems embedded in her fiction. Here is a short verse she wrote for children.
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.