Or treble its strength in a righteous fight.
Yet the types they look but leaden and dumb,
As he puts them in place with finger and thumb
But the printer smiles,
And his work beguiles
By chanting a song as the letters he piles,
With pick and click,
Like the world’s chronometer, tick! tick! tick!
O, where is the man with such simple tools
Can govern the world as I?