MEN AND BOOKS

He was my dearest friend.
He went to such a land
Where transport could not wend,
Yet he remained in mind.

He came in dream to me
And asked me what l did.
He wanted just to see
What ways l loved to tread.

I got up and went straight
To see the books he'd used.
I saw books of his date,
By which he was amused.

Those dear reminders stayed
While he had left my eyes.
They got aged and quite greyed,
But did not taste demise.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH