Oh, many praised her—all the time.
They praised her mind and looks.
But all she really cared about?
Her shelves all crammed with books.
Her floors were covered with the things—
And every surface, too.
Her bed, her tables, countertops
Were piled with volumes, all askew.
One day a towering pile of books
Tipped over on her head.
The coroner declared his view—
'Twas knowledge made her dead.