We're quite thankful for the rubber eraser (and the delete key.)it reads:
A word is written, and from it we read
A rightly spoken, broken sort of charm
Has it awoken, the rhyme which does no harm
And hearing it, inspires a good indeed?
And mostly now in writ we find untrue
Our good intentions for naught did we dream,
A dream of eloquence and words agleam
With honest love and sanguine valor's hue?
For now and ever in this world is hid
From man his own true wishes are concealed
And dim his eyes from passion's stormy din
So by word bound with chain his hands amid
And through word oft and only are revealed
From pain and lies the truth impressed within.