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Lines in Pleasant Places

Rhythmics of many moods and quantities. Wise and otherwise

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PRESS AND PRESS-PEOPLE.
 
 
 
 
 
 
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86

PRESS AND PRESS-PEOPLE.

We prize our venerable Art,
Our fondly cherished Alma Mater;
With discipline she tried our heart,
And taught us thus to venerate her.
She strove to rouse ambition up,
To grasp at affluence of knowledge;
She proffered draughts from Wisdom's cup,
That was not filled at school or college.
She pointed, through a thousand doors,
To fields of intellectual clover;
She led where mighty Learning's stores
Awaited for the hungry rover.
[OMITTED]
Howe'er the butt of fortune's spite,
—Whatever be his lot or station,—
The printer takes the highest flight
Of sublunary aspiration.

87

And more in these, our modern days,
His mind aspires—we cannot doubt it;
His office draws his upward gaze,
There is so much up stairs about it.
An alchemist of loftiest ken,
By day and night his head he bothers,
And, patient as a setting hen,
He sets in lead the thoughts of others.
Though some maliciously might hint
That that was hardly transmutation—
Scarce different the thoughts in print
From the original formation.
How multifarious the range
Of his seven-staired exalted mission!
Weaving that web so grand and strange,
The world's news for the next edition:
Here grasping philosophic lore,
Here by Parnassian airs surrounded,
Here where Commercial gems outpour,
Here where by legal fogs confounded;
Here where mercurial Stocks obtain,
Where Science towards the light is groping;
Here where Romance gives blissful pain,
Where Truth and Falsity are coping;

88

Where Politics make specious claim,
Where Honor takes the votive myrtle,—
He picks away with steady aim,
His scope betwixt the “stick” and “turtle.”
And though he plunge not to the mine
Where Thought's bright jewels lie imbedded,
Some grains upon his garments shine,
The plainer seen if thought is leaded.
And proud are we of those who've sprung
Above the dull and common level;
Who, giants, walk our ways among,
And boast of lineage from the devil.
I mean the printer's imp, of course—
And those who rose from small beginning,
Who mark the time by merit's force,
Continued approbation winning.
There are who with us kindred claim,
Who knew not advent typographic,
But who win affluence and fame
By its control in lore or traffic.
The preacher may essay in vain,
By study o'er the midnight taper,
His immortality to gain,
Without assistance from the paper.

89

The savant, jurist, poet, were
But delvers in a sphere neglected,
Without the typo's timely care
To make their betterness respected.
And lecturers most grateful feel
—The rostrum's pleasant boards adorning—
Where all their thoughts reporters steal,
And spread them broadcast in the morning.
[OMITTED]
Out from our Mater's sturdy breast,
In proper season's culmination,
A thought in generous kindness dressed,
Became our loved Association.
Benevolence its aim and scope,
With mutual benefit its basis,
It took a place of trust and hope,
And cheered the gloom of darkened places.
'Twas but a little seed at first,
By loving faith unceasing tended;
But by the dews of heaven 'twas nursed,
And into magnitude ascended.
Until, at fifty honored years,
It calls us to its festal cheering,
With all of memory that endears,
With all the worth that is endearing.
 

From the Fiftieth Anniversary Poem before the Boston Franklin Typographical Society, January 19, 1874.