The Portland daily press., 1873-04-24
The Bards Secret or Poetic RetIcenoo


Yesterday morning the sub-editor came in
| to our sanctum and reminded us that we
hadn't given out any poetry for the fourth
! page. So we took out the roll of manuscript
left VITA us by the Poets wife, ard selected
the following poem, which we read to the
sub-editor:
KNOWN To ME ONLY.
Mine alone is my secret! hold it
Nor ever will tel it; apart
From the world and its scon enfold il ...
In the passionate clasp Of my heart;
In the thickchangng darkness around it
Of hatred and terror and gloom
That the world has repaid for my loving
1t burns like lamp in a tomb.
shout it to blackshadowed Shasta,
To the sagebush whisper 1t low,
write it in rocks of the canon,
And cry 1t aloud when there blow
Fierce that shake the strong pinetrees,
To the stars Will lift up my woe,
The moon shall grow pale as she listens
NV secret none ever stall know!
"All that seems to me very improbable
said the sub-editor gently "but daresay it
relieved his feelings" AT that moment our
errand-boy brought in the mail, and we be
gan to read our letters. 'This is an uncon-
genial state of things said we; ;'here Is a man
who wants to stop his paper because we re-
fused to print an article of his, that would
have involved.us in libel suit, here's bill for
ink,and the bill for those types we had last au-
tumn, and letter stating that the writer thinks :
our intellectual ca!ibre inconsiderabe-thjs
isn't pleasant reading" "Its too bad''said the ,
sub-editor, sympathizingly. "We might i'm
itate the poet, and interview the vegetable :
world on the subject of our grief" said we,
''or we might so round to the reptile contem-
porary's office and talk it over with him. or
go down to the corner of the street, and but
tonhole one of the Holsters in that cart-but
on the whole we decline to write up our woes
on rocks of the canon'-likc other Btters.'
The sub-editor took out the box of brief quo
tations and selected some of them for our
column of items; while we wrote hastily on
manuscript slip, which we unceremonious-
ly slid across the table to him. He pickedit
up, and read the following les, inspired by
our despair.
NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON BUSINESS
We remarked on our griefs to the squash-vine,
To toad we confded our woe,
We chalked it all out a shngle, .--s rr
And shouted its cause to a crew; -
None knew it-except those we mention
From the cold world we held IL aloof
Of course the compositor knows it,
And the man that corrected the proof;
For we had it run in, in the Weekly,e
1t was printed in proof and ''revise''-
The Weekly las many Subscribers
But we couldn't help feeling surprise
That any one found out our secret;
And we add last word to the wise
fyou don't want things known by the pubic,
The moral is-don't ADVERTISED
The sub-editor looked at us with much
respect and remarked enthusiastically,,
You always keep an eye 10 business,
even though the other eye be fixed on the
gttering peak of Parnassus." We modestly
declined the compliment as the obvious de-
duction would be that we were afflicted with
an unpleasant obliquity of vision, which is not
the case. The sub-editor carefully smoothe0
out the Poets manuscript, laid it beside ours,
and compared them carefully with puzzled
expression on his face. 81 don't see but YOURS
Is as sensible as his-but it doesn't sound so''
said he, al length ''It is exactly as sensi-
ble'', replied we; ''if we wanted to talk, one
thing is as good as another, squash-vine is
as good aconversationalist as Mount Shasta.''
Still, the sub-editor wasn't quite satisfied-the
fact is, he is young yet, and hasn't learned
that the universe doesn't often take the
trouble to combine to crush an aspiring and
deserving genius.