The Book-Worm

By C.W. Pearson

To heroes who on battlefields win fame
We do not grudge the lordly lion’s name;
Those who, insensible to others’ cares,
Are always rough and surly, we call bears;
To those who learn no lesson from what passes,
The ever dull and stupid, we call asses.
All claim to be a lion I resign,
And shun all bearish traits and asinine;
Nature has cast me for another part
And I embrace my lot with all my heart;
To satisfy an ever-craving need,
All day upon the leaves of books I feed,
And by night I find a resting-place
In what by day appears of books a case;
Thus day and night I think my title firm
To be that busy idler—a book-worm.

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