Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - My Books lyrics

Sadly as some old mediaeval knight   Gazed at the arms he could no longer wield,   The sword two-handed and the shining shield   Suspended in the hall, and full in sight, While secret longings for the lost delight   Of tourney or adventure in the field   Came over him, and tears but half concealed   Trembled and fell upon his beard of white, So I behold these books upon their shelf,   My ornaments and arms of other days;   Not wholly useless, though no longer used, For they remind me of my other self,   Younger and stronger, and the pleasant ways   In which I walked, now clouded and confused.