The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1879-08-28
THE EDITOR AND THE POETS GHOST.
BY G. L. MARION.

By G. L. MARION.
Twas midnight, last week only, while I sat de-
pressed and lonely,
In the Evening Herald Office, looking editorials
DER.
While sat my penknife honing. suddenly there
As Of some one sick and groaning, lay beneath the
Office floor;
AS of some dying there In vain OF MAJ u1u alu
This heard and nothing morel
Ali distinctly remember, though twas not the
month December,
How trembled, shook and shivered, quaked as
ne'er did before
While harked thought it funny, lives of others
fair and sunny,
With their pockets full of money, and doomed TO
deal in lore
And doomed to write till midnight with specter
meath the foor |t
This dreaded, nothing more.
Then DER all there spread neutrality-suspicious.
streaming through the skylight-
Falling cross, and on the fixtures cast grim shapes
upon the floor. 5H3
Numbed eyed the pall1d streaklng, caught my ear
gentle creaking,
AS of some one softly sneaking outside cross the
hallway floor;
~Some meek poet it's L muttered, wants to sell
his rhyming lore;"
This it is and nothing more.
SFCome in, sir, and cease your clamor," at last
found strength to stammer W. 3.
While / spoke some poets spirit rose beside me
from the floor, q. ...,. 4
Aad his presence DER me stealing full his ghasti-
ness revealing lIllag stg94 N.u..I,.
Sent DER me a dreadful feeling, such as meier 1
knew before.
~specter! " cried I, "why thus haunt me? HE thee
back to poet shore" ill.,. '-. =. .l,.nt
Quoth my caller, "Nevermore." .. .
And methought the air grew thicker, perfumed as
it were with liquor, - il. ..u 9.. 4..
Mingled with the demons breathing, whom 1 cared
to more. l|t5
"Wretch! cried "what devil sent thee, and what
power hath he lent thee
That you boldly thus prevent me having peaceful
ness of yore? L.ft"l
Is my repose forever gone? Tell me, tell me,
impiorel" '@
Quoth the ghost, "Forevermore."
Facing thus the bold, pale speaker gradually my
soul grew weaker; l'i "9&" .-'H
Still [ vowed to learn what brought him from that
grim, poetic shore. ...... ..l..:f +
"sir, though odd is my position, STILL" said "'tis
my ambition, p, Jr t.t-t B.. H,l.
If can to learn your mission, and this mystery
explore" ,.
Quoth the phantom, very grimly, "Print my poems
I've score"
This he said, and nothing more.
Much I marveled this unholy thing to hear dis
course slowly, .,l ...-..
import bore. .t t-
"Ghost IS I cried, 81 scorn your pleading; I now
no poetry needing,
Better be your exit speeding, ere I pierce your
bosom's core. t1 fe'
Hence! depart and leave me in my sanctum,
lonely as before"
Quoth the phantom, "Nevermore."
"Poet" shrieked I, "thing Of woman poet! STILL if
hend or human,
Hio myself from out my presence, with thy
rhymes, forevermOre. ..r. 49,. +. .fn.
Though you hail from Satan's haven, and thy crest
be shorn and shaven,
Yet, sure thou art not craven as demand we
print your lore; .<-,
Know you not tits far past midnight? Leave me,
leave me, implore!" .~. 44#,
Quoth the demon, "Nevermore."
%Be that word sign of quitting!n cried l. at his
ghostship splitting.
Get thee back into thy kingdom-to the realm of
rhyming lore: -t
Leave no poem grimly written, in the style of Poe
or Lytton, tt#. J3itA.
TO remind me I've been smitten by haunting poet
bore;
Take thy hand from off my forehead, and thy form
beyond my door!" 'f....
Quoth the specter, "Nevermore.n
still is staying, ,..
StiIl doth linger in my sanctum with his lot of
rhyming lore; --
And his form bears all the sameness to demon
void of tameness, ft.sf ." 81
And a rhymer full of laneness, with the moonlight
gloadng DER, 80"
And my soul from out his shadow, that seems
floating cross the floor, .t..
Shall be rescued, Nevermore.
BLOOMINGTON, III.