Robarts Library

It broods over St. George and Harbord Street,

A Brutalist hulk in solemn concrete;

Imposing enough in the sunny day,

A Medieval dungeon ‘neath night’s dark veil,

Spiritual child of Le Corbusier,

Embodying zeitgeist in form and scale.

Bright and eager Scholars the Peacock calls

To its mazy stacks and stygian halls.

Yet stranger stories one perceives within,

As shadows play on the Student’s tired mind,

Not bound in books, but steeped in secret sin;

One heeds the peopled lobbies, lest to find

Things best unsaid, save in whisper and blog—

Ghosts that lie waiting for a daydream’s fog.

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© 2021 by Michael Warenycia