Today
I saw some ancient books,
Five
hundred plus years old,
With
illustrations brightly hued
And
accented in gold.
Calligraphied
in perfect print,
They
really blew my mind,
Surviving
all these years
And
waiting there for me to find.
On
display within the Cloisters
And
protected under glass,
Just
a page or two is visible
To
visitors who pass.
Yet
I think of those who sat and toiled
By
candlelight, now gone,
Who’d
be shocked that centuries later
All their efforts still live on.
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