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Poetry: Lines To A Worn Out Fount Of Type

Poetry: Lines To A Worn Out Fount Of Type image
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ï'm fitting at my desk, George, Bef ore me, on ihe floor Tlierc lies a worn out fount of T) po, Full many athousmd -euro. And tnany muiiths linve pnesec), Georgc, Since tlipy ypre bright and tiew, Aml tnuny are the laks theyo lui.', The falte, the strangc, the truc! Théir beauty has all goiie, Geoige, Yüii scarcely now muy tiace Upon the euowy medium, The likencss of their face. Tliey 'mind me of a man, Georgo, Whotíe morn of life was full Of proinise, bul wliose evening close Was desolate and dull.. Wliat tnles of horror they have tuit!, Of tempest, and of wieck; Of minder at the mhJnigl.t hour, Of war, fiill many a "speek;" Of shTps that far awaj at sea Went down bcfoic Uie blat-t; Of ölifltd cried of agony, Aá lifo's last momeins pnwxd. Of enrthquakes and of suïcides; Of failing crups of cotton; Of bank dérhiïlléivj bróken batiks. And banking system rotten; Of boilers burdirig, stéambóáia snagged, Of riots, duels fought; Of robbers with their prey oseoped, Of thieves witli bjoly caught. ■ Of land-slidps and of water-spouts; Of aiiis and alligat'-r?; Of serpents in their brinydeep; ÖF giant sweét potatnes; Of childreii lost, 6f childien fomd; Kiimiices in disorder: Of figlits atnong the Breinen, And troubloa on Ihe burier. ■ They ve to!d us of n uation, Georgo, Bent öorrowing in ihe duat, Fur one wbora sho liad called to lili Her higheet, den rest trust; Of sparkling crowiss for youibfui browt; Of roy.-il corona lions; Of plans to rid tiie earth of kingf; Oï Temporalice reforinations. Of flooil, and fire, and accident, These worn-out types havetold, And liow ihe pestilence has swept The youthful and the old; Of marria'gee, of birtlis ond dealhí; Of thírigá to please or vex us; Of one mans yitiifptrlg overhoard, Another gone tö Texas. They'vc told how long streel Sutnmer uaye Havo faded from our view; How AcUutnn's chilling wind hath swept The leaf crowned mountains through; liow Winter's reign hnth come and gone, Dark rcign of storm and striib - And how the smiling Spring hath warnied The pale flwwers back to life. I can't pretend to mention half My mliy friends have told, Since shining bright and beauliful, They issued from t he mould - How unto some, joy ihey have brought, To others grief and tears; Yet faithfu'lya record kept Of fast receding yearu.