A Question of sighs

The library is large and handsome too:
The shelves run round the walls, so full of tomes,
That she can see, they’re crowded and accrue
From waist height to the ceiling; there are homes
Devoid of books that lack the certain charm
Of histories, biographies and all
The essays that the literate might need
To comfort them, when they cannot recall
Exactly where she is; and she can’t feed
Their hopes that she will come and she will bare
Her bottom over arms of leatherette;
So he can entertain himself and care
For her, until the leather arm is wet
With her spillage and his – he is in charge;
And handsome too and really rather large…