An old book of poems

I went to an amazing book sale last Friday. It wasn’t my first time at this sale. It’s an annual fundraiser for a local church in my neighborhood. When I walked into the chaos of the sale, I was initially overwhelmed. So many people, so much noise and so many books! Tables and tables of them. Boxes underneath the tables. A huge gathering room plus a few other rooms. People were surrounding the tables scanning and grabbing. Some were chatting and laughing, blocking the way for others to browse. Resellers were using their phones to scan and look up potential prices for vintage and rare books. Every year is the same and it doesn’t stop me from going and finding new written-word treasures.

I took a deep breath and started in the room with biographies and memoirs since there didn’t seem to be as many people in there. Plus, I love biographies and memoirs. There was also history and political books. I usually find some gems in there but, this year, not as much. I made my way to literature and poetry and then to spiritual and religious books. I scanned humor, animals, coffee table books and cooking. Then I hit the room filled with fiction. I found the most there, but I picked up a bit of everything, even some cds and DVDs. (Yes, I’m aging myself and I don’t care). My husband, Brian, went with me (like his sweet self does every year) and found a 1944 copy of Tom Sawyer and a fun military aircraft book for his friend. My eyes and arms tire fast these days, so he’s there to carry my bags of books and look in areas I missed. After a little over an hour, I was dizzy and ready to leave. Believe it or not, the total came to the exact amount of cash I had in my wallet! I returned with my mom the next day during their fill a bag for $5 sale and together we picked out more books. It was quieter and easier to browse that second day of the sale.

I wanted to share the first book I found and had to add to my collection. It’s titled One Hundred and One Famous poems. Copyright 1924. Publisher R. J. Cook, The Cable Company from Chicago, Illinois. When I spotted this wonderful vintage beauty, I knew it was coming home with me. I love vintage books, I love poetry and I even love the old book smell. It’s been around but it’s in great shape for its age. It holds so many wonderful poems, and it has a prose supplement in the back which includes The Gettysburg Address, The Ten Commandments and The Declaration of Independence. Poets included in the book range from Shakespeare, Emerson and Shelley to Wordsworth, Longfellow, Poe and Whitman.

Today, I’d like to share a poem by Alice Cary, an American poet who was born in 1820 and died in 1871.

Nobility

True worth is in being, not seeming,–

In doing, each day that goes by,

Some little good–not in dreaming

Of great things to do by and by.

For whatever men say in their blindness,

And spite of the fancies of youth,

There’s nothing so kingly as kindness,

And nothing so royal as truth.

*

We get back our mete as we measure–

We cannot do wrong and feel right.

Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure,

For justice avenges each slight.

The air for the wing of the sparrow,

The bush for the robin and wren,

But always the path that is narrow

And straight, for the children of men.

*

‘Tis not in the pages of story

The heart of it’s ills to beguile,

Though he who makes courtship to glory

Gives all that he hath for her smile.

For when from her heights he has won her,

Alas! it is only to prove

That nothing’s so sacred as honor,

And nothing so loyal as love!

*

We cannot make bargains for blisses,

Nor catch them like fishes in nets;

And sometimes the thing our life misses

Helps more than the thing which it gets.

For good lieth not in pursuing,

Nor gaining of great nor of small,

But just in the doing, and doing

As we would be done by, is all.

*

Through envy, through malice, through hating,

Against the world, early and late,

No jot of our courage abating–

Our part is to work and to wait.

And slight is the sting of his trouble

Whose winnings are less than his worth;

For he who is honest is noble,

Whatever his fortune or birth.

I love discovering new writers and this is my first time reading Alice Cary. What do you think of her poem?

And here’s the book