Classic Poem

My worthy unreproaching friend,
I do not blush to ask thine aid,—
Thy knowledge is without an end—
Thy light without a shade!
No vain reviling comes from thee—
No boast of a superior soul;
I but consult thee, terror-free,
And then I know the whole.

But when I ask the narrow mind,
Concerning something I would know;
I tremble lest I chance to find
His raillery o'erflow.
But thou art humble, grave, and meek,
And marvel not I am unlearned,—
Though brighter gems are on thy cheek,
To be discerned.

Dear Book! let those who will extol
Their cherished ones in language dear;
Mine is to praise thee, from the soul,
Much more sincere!
For I esteem thy mental face,
Lit by instruction's vivid ray,—
Where I can mystic sayings trace,
Clear as noon-day.