Emily Dickinson - A precious Mouldering lyrics

A precious — mouldering pleasure — 'tis To meet an Antique Book In just the Dress his Century wore A privilege — I think His venerable Hand to take And warming in our own A pa**age back — or two — to make To Times when he — was young His quaint opinions — to inspect His thought to ascertain On Themes concern our mutual mind The Literature of Man What interested Scholars — most What Competitions ran When Plato — was a Certainty And Sophocles — a Man When Sappho — was a living Girl And Beatrice wore The Gown that Dante — deified Facts Centuries before He traverses — familiar As One should come to Town And tell you all your Dreams — were true He lived — where Dreams were born His presence is Enchantment You beg him not to go Old Volume shake their Vellum Heads And tantalize — just so