Classic Poem

My best companions are my books;
About the library's quiet nooks
I linger long, at ease reclined,
And live with masters of the mind.

A spell is on my fancy cast
By wits and poets of the past,
And as I turn each yellow page
I dwell in many a vanished age.

I revel in the fancies fine
Of all the long, illustrious line;
They talk to me by day and night,
And seem to watch me as I write.

So musing on their deathless fame,
I think—shall I too, leave a name?
Shall my poor songs, when I am dumb,
Delight some heart in years to come?