_The Edition De Looks_

How very close to truth these bookish men Can be when in their catalogues they pen

The words descriptive of the wares they hold To tempt the book-man with his purse of gold!

For instance, they have Dryden--splendid set-- Which some poor wight would part with wealth to get.

'Tis richly bound, its edges gilded--but-- Hard fate--as Dryden well deserves--uncut!

For who these days would think to buy the screed Of dull old dusty Dryden just to read?

In faith if his editions had been kept Amongst the rarities he'd ne'er have crept!

And then those pompous, overwhelming tomes You find so oft in overwhelming homes,

No substance on a Whatman surface placed, In polished leather and in tooling cased,

The gilded edges dazzling to the eye And flaunting all their charms so wantonly.

These book-men, when they catalogue their books, Call them in truth édition de luxe.

That's all they have, most of 'em, just plain shape, With less pure wine than any unripe grape.

But tomes that travel on their "looks" indeed Are only good for those who do not read;

And, like most people clad in garments grand, Seem rather heavy for the average hand.