A Poem with No End

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

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