Type

by Eugene Ware
 

All night, the sky was draped in darkness thick;
From rumbling clouds imprisoned lightenings swept;
Into the printer's stick,
With energetic click,
The ranks of type into battalions crept,
Which formed brigades while dreaming labor slept;
And ere dawn's crimson pennons were unfurled,
The night-formed columns charged the waking world.

Selections from Ironquill
(Topeka: Crane & Co. 1899)

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July 3, 1997 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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