The Library Vault

by Lil’ Deb

‘Twas the night before Lobby refreshment
when all through Russell Library
not a creature was stirring, not even on the balcony.
The bats all hung from the attic eaves with care,
in hope that more ghost hunters soon would be there.

The Tonies were nestled all snug in their beds
with visions of children dancing in their heads.
A librarian in the Lobby, and I at the children’s desk,
had just settled our brains for a library meme burlesque.

When out in the courtyard there arose such a clatter,
I arose from my swivel chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the Victoria Hatch Room window I flew like a train,
tore open the broken latch and swung out the green pane.
The moon on the breast of the newly-trimmed ivy
gave the luster of zombies to the brownstone so slimy.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
but eight Lil’ Debs pulling a miniature skid steer.

With a dignified lady smelling like flora,
that I knew in a moment she must be former library director Laura.

More rapid than eagles the Lil’ Debs they came
and she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Wordsworth! Now, Byron! Now Shelley and Dickens!
On, Bronte! On, Wollstonecraft! On Gaskell and Dickinson!
To the top of the tower! To the top of the vault!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As pages that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with a book drop mount to the sky,
so up to the weather vane the coursers they flew
with a skid steer full of books, and Director Laura too—
and then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each Lil’ Deb hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around
down the Hubbard Room stairs Laura came with a bound.
She was dressed all in black, from her head to her foot,
with her clothes neither tarnished with ash nor with soot.
A bundle of books she had flung on her back,
and she looked like a pizza delivery person just opening her pack.

Her eyes—how they twinkled! Her up-do, how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her lips like a cherry!
Her intelligent mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the lace on her Victorian gown was as white as the snow.
The stump of a date stamp she held tight in her fist
and a due slip she held in her hand with a twist.
She had a kind face and on her dress a big black bow,
and high-buttoned black boots that looked ready to go.
She stood tall and regal, the opposite of an elf,
and I hushed when I saw her, in spite of myself.
A wink of her eye and the droll cock of her head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
and filled all the scavenger hunt prize bins,
then turned with a jerk.
Then laying her finger in front of her lips,
and giving a “Shhhh!”, up the Hubbard Stairs she slipped.
She sprang to her skid steer, to her Lil’ Debs gave a whistle,
and away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim, ere she flew out of sight—
“Happy Reading to all, and to all a good night!”