Serif

In the hushed halls of print where thoughts take flight,
The serif rests – a modest, faithful light.
Each tiny foot, a genteel, restrained refrain,
Guides the reader’s eye with quiet, sure domain.

From broadsheet broadsides to the novel’s page,
Its classic charm defies the fickle age.
A timeless organisation of stroke and line,
Where tradition and clarity intertwine.

So let the sans‑serif shout in modern guise,
While serif whispers softly, wise and wise.
In every letter’s humble, steadfast creed,
We find the quiet grace of Britain’s read.