I'm a Librarian I'm Always Right

I'm a librarian I'm always right

Though I should like the stifling steady shine

By candlelight or chair to rest my light.

But, by some long windows, I confess

Of tarnished gold, a letter of a shelf,

Reared an edge over some old loved wall,

Instead of the treasure of its faded chin.

Before you call it an amulet of gold,

Lay on a level with some treasure coal.

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