The Press is too much with us, small and great: <br />We are undone of chatter and on dit, <br />Report, retort, rejoinder, repartee, <br />Mole-hill and mare's nest, fiction up-to-date, <br />Babble of booklets, bicker of debate, <br />Aspect of A., and attitude of B.— <br />A waste of words that drive us like a sea, <br />Mere derelict of Ourselves, and helpless freight! <br /> <br />'O for a lodge in some vast wilderness!' <br />Some region unapproachable of Print, <br />Where never cablegram could gain access, <br />And telephones were not, nor any hint <br />Of tidings new or old, but Man might pipe <br />His soul to Nature,— careless of the Type!<br /><br />Henry Austin Dobson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-pleasant-invective-against-printing/
