No Help for It.

No Help for It.
464.11

I saw Montaigne upon a stand:
Ho amiled a Gallie smile quite bland
And beckoned me. Had I the time
I might have stopped. topped.
But ’twas To waste upon Montaigne a look a crime
When I’d not read the latest book.

As I ant waiting in a room,
Oppressed with some ancestral gloom,
I looked, and, lot in binding rare,
I saw Cervantes pining there.
Brooding alone in dusty nook.
Nuy, friend! For me the latest book

There’s Shakespeare, Homer, Goethe, too,
And others quite a cultured crew.
They say their wit is fresh today
An ever But to rend them!
Nay! It cannot be! By hook or crook.
Why, I must read the latest book.