The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1875-05-06
The " Poetry - Drawer.


About this time every year there is a
horise-cleaning sotree afotind tile oftiae
of daily newspaper. The cobwebs are
brushed down, some kalsomining done,
little paint applied, and the "head
editor turns the "poetry" drawer of
his table wrong side up and sighs still
small sigh as he regards the scores of re-
jected manuscripts. Almost every day
for the past year 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
ray or two of merit; others were laid
aside out of compliment to the author,
who is level-headed on all other matters.
All the crushed hopes buried in this
heap! The young, the old, matron,
maid, bachelor and Benedict have con-
tributed. Some were thirsting for fame,
others had an hour to spare, and nine
teen out of twenty have written at the
bottom of the last page: "I know you
like good poetry" or, "Please publish
this in conspicuous place."
Some time last fall 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 q
pound OF 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 -
pr1t % 1crl, ctD Sc
called "stonelet," and q brick is called
a "bricklet, such poetry will be worth
q dollar line.
Next comes q long litter headed:
What Little Girl Thinks" No one
will ever know from that letter what she
thought. The ink was heavily diluted
with wa 'er, the pen was as fine as pin,
and the man who 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 noble youth
When from his happy mothers home
He passed, in soldiers garb uncouth,
And left our hearthstone sad and lone"
It appears from the above that Ed
wards mother was happy, but as to Ed
wards own feelings there is no clew.
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
a poet can't tackle anything else he can
always make a strike on q requiem.
About the middle of November is the
time to get up requiems 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 a bride,
In snowy white, on morning bright,
In youthful beauty and pride
1t is sad thing to look upon snow
storm, especially if the wood pile is lying
around loose in the back yard and the
police are determined to enforce the
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 says it is original. She's
young lady, and she trills:
CAN 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 dull business looking
for shadows in dark room. And
hnt hn, @lo4
breach of promise suit wouldn't have
swept away2
And here are two pages on I" Last
Rites" It's q woman S hand again, and
she says:
Lay her upon her bier
The summer, lately dead"
1t is sad thing to have summer pass
away. No more hanging over the gate,
no more strawberry short cake farewell
to peaches and cream The girl un-
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 cab
bages.
The next is ON " The Flag We Love-"
and young man must have worked on
it until three o'clock in the morning
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 inquiries {:
"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
habit of "pegging" at birds, and per-
haps the worm crop wasa failure and the
songsters had to hunt up fresh fields and
pastures new.
All! well. There's dozens of pages
left, and it will answer every purpose if
they are sent to the rag-mill. If it were
a capital offense to put rhymes together
every hangman would be killed by over
work within a month. Free
Press.
A Terrible Joke.
There have been such number Of
cases in which the perpetration of sense
less and wretched Jokes has led to very