Here you will find the Poem The Ancient Printman of poet James Whitcomb Riley
'O Printerman of sallow face, And look of absent guile, Is it the 'copy' on your 'case' That causes you to smile? Or is it some old treasure scrap You cull from Memory's file? 'I fain would guess its mystery-- For often I can trace A fellow dreamer's history Whene'er it haunts the face; Your fancy's running riot In a retrospective race! 'Ah, Printerman, you're straying Afar from 'stick' and type-- Your heart has 'gone a-maying,' And you taste old kisses, ripe Again on lips that pucker At your old asthmatic pipe! 'You are dreaming of old pleasures That have faded from your view; And the music-burdened measures Of the laughs you listen to Are now but angel-echoes-- O, have I spoken true?' The ancient Printer hinted With a motion full of grace To where the words were printed On a card above his 'case,'-- 'I am deaf and dumb!' I left him With a smile upon his face.
