by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Books, books, books!
I had found the secret of a garret-room
Piled high with cases in my father's name;
Piled high, packed large, - where, creeping in and out
Among the giant fossils of my past,
Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs
Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there
At this or that box, pulling through the gap,
In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy,
The first book first. And how I felt it beat
Under my pillow, in the morning's dark,
An hour before the sun would let me read!
My books! ...
The poem was in the introduction to this book, which I borrowed from my daughter.
There is a book for each of the 365 days. I think I'm going to really enjoy this. I've already peeked ahead and seen many books I've never read.
The year began with Zadie Smith's White Teeth.
From the introduction:
Think of this as a tasting menu. It is my dearest hope that each taste will send you scurrying to your bookseller or library so you can read (or reread) that book, cover to cover.