Thief

Once, long ago, I stole a book;
so long ago, it seems quite safe
to talk about it now.
Statutes of Limitation must
apply, assuming that such things
exist in Scottish Law.

It was a book I coveted,
a thick, authoritative tome
on Ancient History
from which quotations constantly
appeared in other works I'd read
upon my chosen theme.

And it was second-hand and priced
astonishingly cheaply too,
a good six-shilling’s worth.
I knew at once the book was mine.
The price was well beyond my means,
and so I lifted it.

And I still have it after fifty years.
It stands there flanked by all those lesser works,
The only one I haven't read.