Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1871-1872, 1872-06-01
gailn Argus.
Pictures in Verse


SHOW. there are a. 6ne bits of verse in the
Newspapers ~ ever get into books, and with
better average than 10 found in the rhymss
OF the monthly magazines. In fact, while
books Of poetry, save only those Of two or
three Of the most illustrious modern bards.
go begging for readers, clippings Of choice
newspaper verse are carried shout con-
stantly in countless pocket-books, to be de.
claimed on choice occasions, and are sei-
dom unrepresented in the public readings Of
the eloeutionists What could be fnsr in
its way than this Rembrandtish little pie
ture, illustrating 9 quaint idea in true poetic
coloring;
eAZETrED.
The ps-sstter stands be fore his ease,
The gas burns low, and the night is deep
And over the staggering chimney stacks
Darkness and shadows creep,
And the city is lost in sleep.
The typs-setter stands there, gaunt and gray,
With dim old eyes and q weary brain
And he sings oadsn GO so emn and low,
To the beat OF the bitter rain
| On rafting easement and pane.
Trsmble the rafters, roof, and floors,
| As he fingers the type (in his desolAte way;
And be hears the music family borne
From the theatre over the way,
At some strange old tragedy play.
The old man ain gs, and trembIe the floors
| With the hsliew ing engine down below,
And The crash OF the whiring axle-bars,
L And hat hurA a-a fk.sf &c. A.
EchOing to and fro.
AZ he fingers the type lin his desolate way
He sets them up with q heavy lead;
And msrgs Of black encircles his work
The name Of . man just dead
A seul in the battle sped.
And he signs a. he thinks, this man so gray,
Winking and blinking before his case,
How, out in the dark and desolats night,
Some form Of womsnly grace
Iswsepipg upon her face.
Lower and lower the gas lights burn,
And grow the sh sdows dusky and gray;
And the storm is hushsd and the musie's swell
At the theatre over the way,
And finished the tragedy play.
And the type setter wipes his dim old eyes;
The types more with his fingers novel
low,
The angels, in tender love,
Were setting it up above. W. S. N.
A similar and very different picture, bu
warmly mellow in color and finely artist
in some of its minor touches, is this, appear
ling without signature in the Cstskill IN. Y.
Recorder:
THE WOODLAND PRINCESS.
What If we met in an old log road,
Where the leaf mould Olung to her small bE.
heels,
And instead of woodland flowers, her load
Wssa string of trout and silver cells?
Der gown was ragged and limp with dew,
But it rounded pair Of splendid hips;
A rich red torrent was flashing through
Her startled pulses to cheeks and lips.
The wholesome bronze of her rudy face
Was like ripe fruit in bower Of green,
And she walked the world with the easy grace
i AID firm, free step Of . woodland queen.
Il The dew has moistened the jstty hair
Il That waved and foated about her head;
Il I caught q glimpse of the shoulders bare,
il The sparkling eyes, and the lips of red.
!, Only glimpse of the tattsred gown,
n AG shs dimmed from view in the lesfy way /;
il glance Of the shoulders, plump and brown,
1 And . leg rs plump and brown ss they.
!. And 1 wandered on by the yeasty stream
To try for the trout that would not rise;
For I walked ell day in . misty dream
of lips and shoulders and eurls snd eyes.
u And q thought of 8 dsmsel, city bred,
OF marrow shoulders and doubtful spine;
VI With false hair friEzIed about her h ad,
And false life, beveled by rule and line.
> UnskiIed and needless 10 uifsly cares,
Expensive, vspory, worthless When
The mother half hates the child he bears,
Where shall we 60 for the nations MEM
II, | take the lot that the FItes decree,
And my fauoies fail me on by one:
= But the woodland maid, in her oesuty free,
Is the dream I'll dream till my life Is done