Quotes by Arthur Upson

“Slantwise one long starbeam finds Access through the jealous blinds, Lingeringly, lance at rest On the Poet loved the best, Feeling softly down the shelves Where my books reveal themselves; And, beneath its trembling glow, Faint, fine blooms, like plum-mist show— Dust o' Books, I love you so!”

“Dust? Nay, their own ashes rest On the works their love caressed: Out of linen and levant Thoughts of masters emanant, From the outer wash of air Their sweet ashes settled there! This is creed to all of us And dust of earth, unluminous, Hath no gold like this we know Of an otherworldly glow— Dust o' Books, we love you so!”