I read you as I read my favourite book:
Oft I return to the familiar pages;
I smooth the creases; through the shade of ages
I always recognise your youthful look.
You are the only work that never ends;
You as an author leave my critic’s smitten;
Your name’s a secret; and the text’s rewritten
So many times, and yet as new it stands.
I would that I have now learnt and known
All of your signs, and words, and twists of story, –
But memory fails me, and to your glory
I hungrily devour you till dawn.
Those readers are the happiest of all
Who find the new delight in known chapters.
And I will read this novel thereafter,
However many more there are, both new and old.
I read you as I read my favourite book.
© Julie Delvaux 2008