a maker of beautiful books

A maker of beautiful books

Knows exactly what it is that makes

Paper, card, printer’s ink,

The raw words of the writer

Into that lovely object

We call a book; understands

The subtle work of fonts,

Of leading, of bindings,

That makes a book something

We wish to hold to ourselves,

To keep and cherish, to read

At times when the soul is in need

Of solace, of insight, and art

That can transform the quotidian

Into the transcendent.

A maker of beautiful books

Understands that text

Should whisper to us its message

Like a confiding friend,

Not in the trumpet tones

Of the strident, the polemical,

But gently, tactfully,

In private places of exchange

Where the loud and the angry

Have no wish to linger.

A maker of beautiful books

Brings people together

In civil and gracious converse,

Helps the puzzled and confused

To understand what it is

That puzzles or confuses them;

Puts an end to that ignorance

On which evil parasitically

Thrives; shows the weak

The way to strength, brings

Freedom to the most remote corners,

Reminds us of love

And its manifold works.