A Printer's Madrigal

(Extremely technical)

I'd like to have you meet my wife!
I simply cannot keep from hinting
I've never seen, in all my life,
So fine a specimen of printing.

Her type is not some bold-face font,
Set solid. Nay! And I will say out
That no typographer could want
To see a better balanced layout.

A nice proportion of white space
There is for brown eyes to look large in,
And not a feature in her face
Comes anywhere too near the margin.

Locked up with all her sweet display
Her form will never pi. She's like a
Corrected proof marked stet, O. K. —
And yet she loves me, fatface Pica!

She has a fine one-column head,
And like a comma curves each eyebrow —
Her forehead has an extra lead
Which makes her seem a trifle highbrow.

Her nose, italicized brevier ,
Too lovely to describe by penpoint;
Her mouth is set in pearl: her ear
and chin are comely Caslon ten-point.

Her cheeks (a pink parenthesis)
Make my pulse beat 14-em measure,
And such typography as this
Would make De Vinne scream with pleasure.

And so, of all typefounder chaps
Her father's best, in my opinion;
And I (in lower case) her minion:

I hope you will not stand aloof
Because my metaphors are shoppy;
Of her devotion I've a proof —
I tell the urchin, Follow Copy!
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