Library of the Bard is in a fairy hide beneath the visiting moon
Beyond an evanescent slice of the seacoast between tides in rhythm,
Down below the deepening foliage between field and forest,
High above the sloping land between plain and mountain yonder
Where Elves, Dwarves, and Hobbits are librarians of wonder
Among the unknown writs of mortals of the universe
Beyond the boundary of time and space and race,
Keep a single book of the Bard with the imprimatur
Of literary workaday Johannes Factotum
On the seventh floor of the Library of Babel
Girding the constellation of stars studded over
Cycle and Epicycle, Orb in Orb.
Author’s Note: I listened to an excellent podcast interview with Stuart Kells, author of Shakespeare’s library, and agreed with him about a possibility that a single book authored by William Shakespeare will someday materialize from an unknown arcane volume of various writings of others in an unexpected place. Things can happen. Hence this poem from my mind’s view on Shakespeare’s Library.
A Cat in the Mirror 