THE ANCIENT PRINTERMAN |
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THE ANCIENT PRINTERMAN
"O Printerman of sallow face,
And look of absent guile,
Is it the `copy` on your `case`
That causes you to smile?
Or is it some old treasure scrap
You cull from Memory`s file? "I fain would guess its mystery--
For often I can trace
A fellow dreamer`s history
Whene`er it haunts the face;
Your fancy`s running riot
In a retrospective race! "Ah, Printerman, you`re straying
Afar from `stick` and type--
Your heart has `gone a-maying,`
And you taste old kisses, ripe
Again on lips that pucker
At your old asthmatic pipe! "You are dreaming of old pleasures
That have faded from your view;
And the music-burdened measures
Of the laughs you listen to
Are now but angel-echoes--
O, have I spoken true?" The ancient Printer hinted
With a motion full of grace
To where the words were printed
On a card above his "case,"--
"I am deaf and dumb!" I left him
With a smile upon his face.
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