The Findlay Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Hancock County, Ohio) 1870-1881, 1875-04-30
THE POETRY" DRAWER.

| ADOuG llils tilNE ever. year lIieTe IL Il
house-cleaning @yiree around the Office
of daily newspaper. The eobwebs are
| brushed down, some kalsomining done,
little paint applied, and the head ed
itor" turns the poetry" drawer of his
table wrong side up, and signs a still
small sigh as lie regards the scores OF re-
jected manuscripts. Almost every day
for the year past he has tossed poetry
into the waste basket with liberal hand,
and yet here is enough to fill book.
Some have been saved to be returned,
but were never called for; Others have a
ray or two of uerit; others were laid
aside out of compliment to the author,
who is level headed Oh all other matters
All. the crushed hopes buried III this
heap. The young, the old, matron,
maid, bachelor and Benedict have con-
tributed. Some were thirsting for fame,
Others had All hour to spare, and nine
teen out of twenty have written at the
bottom of the last page: Il know you
iIhe SOOu pOelIg, vi lcttSF PuOiloii
this i'll a conspicuous place"
Some time last fall, IL young lady, sit
ting at her chamber window when she
ought to have been in bed, saw the cold
clouds drive by and heard the October
winds wailing ON the house-top, and she
ran after the ink-bottle and dashed off
pound or two of rhyme, commencing
with:
This autumn eve the winds are blowing,
The phantom clouds are floating by,
Like rivers DER the rockets flowing.
Then"
But that's enough. When a stone is
called a ''stonelet," " and brick is called
''bricklet," such Loetry will be worth
a dollar a line.
Next comes long letter headed,
"What Little Girl Thinks" No enc
will ever know from that letter what she
thought. The ink was heavily diluted
with water, the pen was as fine as n pin,
and the man that succeeded in decipher-
ing it would have had his eyes ruined
forever.
The next is more poetry. Some poor
girls brother went to war, and happen
ing to remember it, she tunes her Tyre
and sings:
Our Edward was a noble youth,
When from his happy mothers home
He passed, in soldier garb uncouth,
And left our hearthstOne sad and lone.
1t appears from the above that Ed
wards mother was happy, but as to
Edwards own feelings there is no clue.
He passed, but whether he passed to
Canada or the Potomac, no one knows,
though charity supposes that he died on
the battlefield. Some of the soldiers
looked spruce enough in their uniforms,
but it seems that Edwards 'garb" had
an uncouth appearance.
Requiems are always in order. When
poet can't tackle ANYTHING else he can
always make strike ON a requiem.
About the middle of November is the
time to get up requlems on the dying
year. This one came in about that time.
The author says:
Filled is the air with snOwflakes,
AS pure as the mind of bride.
In snowy white, On morning bright,
In youthful beauty and pride,
1t is sad thing to look upon a SNOW
storm, especially if the wood-pile is lying
around loose in the back yard and the
- XI,a
snow ordinance. Further on he says
''the winters winds are cold, ;" but if he
has any doubt of it the American public
will put up heap of money on it.
Poetry again. 1t is headed: "Alone."
and the author saysi it is original. She's
a young lady, and she trills:
"Ar alone in the twilight lighted room
I'm watching the shadows come and go,
Like The restless tide with its ebb and flow,
But darker than night Is my sad hearts
gloom"
Poor girl It's a dull business looking
for shadows in a dark room. And what
could have allied her heart that breach
of promise suit wouldn't have swept
awayl
And here are two pages on last
Rites 1t is n woman's hand again. and
she SAYS:
Law her upon the her
The summer. lately dead"
1t Is a sad thing TO have summer pass
away. No more hanging over the gate,
no more strawberry short-cake-farewell
to peaches and creaml The girl I'M
doubtedly felt sad, but she wasn't half
as melancholy as her father, who knew
that he'd got to lay in ten tons of coal
and unnumbered potatoes and cabbages.
The next is on THE Flag We Love, s"
and young man must have worked on
He says that he adores the star-spangled
banner, and that he wants to die with
its folds covering him. Flags are so
cheap that he can keep one ON hand to
be ready for emergencies.
The next one starts off and enquiries.
Where are the brides we used to see?"
That's the question, and as she does
not answer it she cannot expect any one
else to bother his head. Boys have a
haI.it of 'pegging" at birds, and perhaps
the worm crop was failure and the
songsters had to hunt fresh fields and
pastures new.
All! we'll. There's a dozen of pages
| Iaft and all will answer every purDose
if they are sent to the rag mill. If it
were a capital offense to put rhymes to-
| gether every hangman would be killed
| by overwork within a month.
Symptoms of Liver Complaint, and of
Some of the Diseases Produced by 1t.