A PRINTER'S MADRIGAL

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;

She is my NONPAREIL ( IN CAPS )

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!