In a Library

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  "title": "In a Library",
  "author": "Emily Dickinson",
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  "language": "en",
  "summary": "This poem beautifully captures the profound joy and nostalgia of engaging with an antique book, an experience likened to journeying back in time. It highlights the unique connection and privilege of encountering a book as it appeared in the period it was created, almost as if shaking hands with the past. The text expresses admiration for the wealth of knowledge and quaint opinions embedded within its pages, providing insights into what captivated scholars of ancient times. The narrative evokes scenes of historical icons like Plato, Sophocles, Sappho, and Dante, offering glimpses into the times when these figures were alive and influential. The poem suggests that through reading, one might relive the eras these luminaries inhabited, treating the book as a magical presence that can transport the reader to where dreams and knowledge were first nurtured. As the reader becomes enchanted, the notion of parting with such a treasure feels bittersweet, as if closing the book closes a door to a wondrous world just explored.",
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    "A precious, mouldering pleasure ‘t is 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 passage back, or two, to make To times when he was young.",
    "His quaint opinions to inspect, His knowledge to unfold On what concerns our mutual mind, The literature of old;",
    "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 sown.",
    "His presence is enchantment, You beg him not to go; Old volumes shake their vellum heads And tantalize, just so."
  ],
  "body_text": "A precious, mouldering pleasure ‘t is To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore; A privilege, I think,\n\nHis venerable hand to take, And warming in our own, A passage back, or two, to make To times when he was young.\n\nHis quaint opinions to inspect, His knowledge to unfold On what concerns our mutual mind, The literature of old;\n\nWhat interested scholars most, What competitions ran When Plato was a certainty, And Sophocles a man;\n\nWhen Sappho was a living girl, And Beatrice wore The gown that Dante deified. Facts, centuries before,\n\nHe traverses familiar, As one should come to town And tell you all your dreams were true: He lived where dreams were sown.\n\nHis presence is enchantment, You beg him not to go; Old volumes shake their vellum heads And tantalize, just so.",
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