Rebound an old 1962 poetry anthology that fell apart

Spent the morning re-sewing a 1962 anthology of mid-century poetry whose spine gave out after sixty years of being opened too eagerly. The pages smell like a basement that never quite dried out, and I've decided that's part of the text now. There's a margin note in pencil — someone underlined 'I have measured out my life with coffee spoons' and wrote 'no' next to it. I left it there. Some repairs don't need to fix everything.