Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1878-01-04

HOW THE CACOETHEs sCRIBENDI HAS RAyAGE
uEpmnNr YEAR


HOW THE cAcoETHEs sCRIBENDI HAS RAyAGED
VERMONT, THIS YEAR
In the course of the usual annual clear
ing out and cleaning up OF the FREE PRESS |
sanetum, preparatory to entering upon the |
new year, among Congressional Records,pat
ent ofiice reports, cigar stumps, and other ten
der memorials of the dying year, there came
to light vast and dense cloud Of volunteer
ontrlbutiOns-mos.ly. as usual. what is al |
legged to be poetry. The editorial career in
one respect. at least, resembles a life spent |
on the banks of that pleasant stream 'by |
whose falls melodioGs birds sing madriGals."
We allude, of course to the wood nOtes wild |
of our native poetic warblers, which are
waited to US. as it were. by every mail. The |
present year, the passion for writing poetry |
has developed into an acute mania. and We |
have come to count that day as lost whose |
slow descending sun sheds not his beams on
ninstrclsy divine to FREE Pass office
brought. The mania, as may be seen, is |
infectious And to-day we propose to have |
holiday on Parnassus. and let the trouha- |
Gours twang their guitars as gayly as may
be. Frinstance, a Colchester poet (xho |
sho..ld certainly study mathematics TO re-
strain the fire of his geniusl, moved by the |
divine allatus. MARBLES melOdiousiy about
little family dfieulty-how a lord Of eIea-
ton
Pulled his wife's hair and made her swair
Until the nabers gathered in thar.
Twas sad 90 dCclair,
To see such a sight in Cochestair.'
II this wouldn't bring Iron tears u |
Pluio's cheeks" we don't know what would |
have that ierruginous result. But let Us
turn to lighter themes, afar from songs OF
war. This year. the young mans fancy |
Doesn't seem to lightly turn to thoughts
of love. We find no "loyal cantOns of
condemned love-" no following of the cher
ished name to the reverberGte hills. The |
poetry is Of didactic cast not untinged |
with melancholy. To illustrate Here
is something on
KINDNESS
As the suns bright rays,
To the cloudy days
So is kim ness ways
To the human heart.
II.
It soitens all feelings,
However irRte,
And as medicine healing
It turns away hate
Ill.
IL briqhtens the home,
SO lately, dreary,
And where il doth roam,
blaketh every thing chGery.
".
So let us be pregnant,
With kindness to others
And let US be constant
In helping our brothers.
Wemust say that the attempt 10 make "co1
slant" do duty as a rhyme to pregnant"
appears to us to be partial failure. But
the lofty moral tone Of the effort renders US
disinclined to criticise formal defects. And
then, too, it should be remembered that
| in one Of his finest poems" Barbara Fret
chie''-W Whittier makes ''staf" and ''scarf'
| rhyme and Bryant often makes 'come"
and home do arduous duty c.. g:
When comes the calm, mid day, as still such
day will come.
| To draw the squirrel and the be from out their
| Winter home
The Great Medicine Man of the Pale Faces
fractured his calumet. and forthwith made
his pen the midwife of his teeming brain-
the result being the following heroies
EPITArH ON BRoKEN TOBACCO PIPE.
| OL bury him deep ia The irhaf- you may call
| md plant fLugHnbobs orer his grGre.
| Here lies a little tube of wond'rous power,
Once the companion Oian idle hour
| A foe to care, sweet cha mer Of the soul.
| What dreams were eOnjured from they magic
| bowl
How many wounds of sorrow thou asst balmtd,
| How oft the turbid passions thou hast Gained,
| How many weary hours by thee beguied,
| How sweet thy fragrance when aurora smiled.
| Under the pail and sable gloom of night
| How welcome to the eye thy beacon light
| Formed from the kindred elem ent OF man
And doomed like him to last but fer span.
| Like him when all his hopes as incense rise
| The censor falls and prone on earth II lies.
| The gaudy murchaum praps may take the eye
With amber mouth piece, stem Of ebony;
| The cigarette or fragrant mild cegar
| The dupe of fashion may prefer by far,
| Let igid moraIists thy charms decry
And colder stocs pass thee needless by
| Let pomp and pride their tuseled sauds display
| There's nothing equal TO a simple clay.
OF course Spring. Spring, beautiful
Spring had to come in for irill or two
| Springs eternal in the poets breast, in the
words of another. Here. then, is
AN INVOCATION To SPRING.
Come from the sunny South sweet Spring
| Come to thv Northern bowers;
| Come the Zephyr's balmy wing,
| Come with the gentle showers;
| Come tune the feathered warblers song,
| Clothe the lone fields with green.
Wander the Forests shades among,
Weaving their leafy screen.
| Quicken the insect into Life,
| With the fervor Of thy breath
| Bid countless myriads wake TO striie
From the dull sleep Of death.
Getting the blossom fer thy throne,
| The flowers for thy crown -
| ANGEL of Earth IRON Heaven lOwl;-
| Brn sing Gods blessing down.
SO may my soul before thy shrine,
| With pure affection berd;
| Hoping to bloom with Love divine
Where spriog shall never end.
Nympn, in thy prisons be all nc sins re-
menberey.
10 prose, there is everything-from per-
simmOn letter refuting the base charge that
the writer enticed his neishbors' hens into
his own barn to lay, to the Sage of Winoos-
ki's ell ucidations of the proiounder nyste-
! ries of statecraft from anxious solicitations