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| THE SOLDIER may forget his Sword, | |
| The Sailorman the Sea, | |
| The Mason may forget the Word | |
| And the Priest his Litany: | |
| The Maid may forget both jewel and gem, | 5 |
| And the Bride her wedding-dress— | |
| But the Jew shall forget Jerusalem | |
| Ere we forget the Press! | |
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| Who once hath stood through the loaded hour | |
| Ere, roaring like the gale, | 10 |
| The Harrild and the Hoe devour | |
| Their league-long paper-bale, | |
| And has lit his pipe in the morning calm | |
| That follows the midnight stress— | |
| He hath sold his heart to the old Black Art | 15 |
| We call the daily Press. | |
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| Who once hath dealt in the widest game | |
| That all of a man can play, | |
| No later love, no larger fame | |
| Will lure him long away. | 20 |
| As the war-horse smelleth the battle afar, | |
| The entered Soul, no less, | |
| He saith: “Ha! Ha!” where the trumpets are | |
| And the thunders of the Press! | |
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| Canst thou number the days that we fulfil, | 25 |
| Or the Times that we bring forth? | |
| Canst thou send the lightnings to do thy will, | |
| And cause them reign on earth? | |
| Hast thou given a peacock goodly wings | |
| To please his foolishness? | 30 |
| Sit down at the heart of men and things, | |
| Companion of the Press! | |
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| The Pope may launch his Interdict, | |
| The Union its decree, | |
| But the bubble is blown and the bubble is pricked | 35 |
| By Us and such as We. | |
| Remember the battle and stand aside | |
| While Thrones and Powers confess | |
| That King over all the children of pride | |
| Is the Press—the Press—the Press! | 40 |
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