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Inks poured like rivers through the eager press
And every page could teach or more confess;
No longer bound to cloisters’guarded walls
The word ran free through cities’bustling calls
Poets and thinkers found a common ear
And kings grew cautious of what truth they’d hear;
For knowledge once contained in gilded halls
Now lived in markets taverns humble stalls
The Renaissance was more than brush and stone—
It was the right to think and think alone;
A thousand minds could light a single flame
And keep it burning under any name
So let the ink run open pure and wide
That every soul may choose its moral guide;
For print that frees will make the future strong
And give the silent their enduring song
