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.