An ode to the Kindle Paperwhite

Oh Paperwhite, my sweetest Paperwhite
In softness clad, and black as moonless night
Submerged in all thine words, I do thee clutch
And thou, to me, feel'st like a lover's touch

My eyes aloft o'er fonts as clean as dew
So easy 'tis to lose myself in you
Caecilia and Palatino, my dear
Did not before look quite so fine and clear

I loved thy sister, trusty Kindle Touch
But next to thee, my sweet, she lacks so much
Face sunken in and fussy as a bee
Could not tell cloth from skin, it saddened me

And when the sun at day's end went to rest
The words at once became as dim as west
So dark were they, I huddled by the light
of bulb, or tube, or candle in the night

One day I laid the words on fine a slate
A thing with bigger screen and greater weight
Yet soon my eyes grew weary from the glare
And seeing the faint reflection of my hair

But thee, O fairest reader of them all
Have no such flaws, no penchant to appall
When set all day upon thine front-lit face
Mine eyes do not fatigue, do not give chase
To chapter's end, to hasty epilogues
They seek the words like famished pollywogs

And though 'tis true you are not free of kink
One glowing edge, one corner tinted pink
Your screen, when dimmed to match the light around
Is fairer than what printed things abound

Except, perchance, a Gutenberg Bible
But paperbacks were never as noble

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