Lexington weekly intelligencer. (Lexington, Mo.) 1871-1887, 1880-05-22

/. .'~.. No. IL.
ped field of battle bloom IN beauty the
timid iorget-me- not, and from the dus-
ky den OF the printing press have emer-
ged thoughts, luminous as a sunbeam,
that will sparkle and scintillate in the
realm OF letters while the flowers hold
their fragrance and the gentle dew cools
the brow oil the earnest deliver In the
musty tones oft worlds majestic |
thinkers. The mission OF the press is
poesy. Grand garner of intellect, il
perpetuates the jewels of thought that
otherwise would be lost, and in its
clasp Of cycles holds them for mans
benefit. Angelo saw the angel In an
unhewn block OF marble, Guido dream
ed OF Immortality when he painted his
bright Aurora and the passion tossed
genius. gifted with divine aftiatus, in
the press sees q lightning winged
Pegasus that shall bear him on to high
Olympus. There is poesy in the rus
tie OF the printed page; how it runs
the gamut OF everyday lie in It's COM
pact columns, and no bugle blast or
subtle strain OF music's soitest melody
can more quickly stir the heart than the
details of some knightly deed even ii
told i'll stately prose. Poesy. grand gilt
| divine, is not merely words linked
with rhyme, nor the bright imagery of
u painter who can with artistic pencil
linn with glowing words a picture that
will haunt the memory like some van
ished CLEAN of silver that kissed the
mountains brow, 'cold as the moon
that shines upon the colder grave" but
a thought that strikes the great heart of
humanity as beat of drum in the busy
mart, that makes man pause and think
| and feel that he is mortal. This is the
mission of the press. Into every heart
there is depth that plummet never
sounded, in every lite there is il shadow
that should have a silver lining and in
every paper that floods the land, hum
BILE though it may be, are thoughts that
i will live and carry to some OF earth
denizens inspiration, strength to giro
themselves for the race of life, ever
though they do not reach the goal 5
winner.
Il How few realized the influence o
the poets corner'' in their village pa
per. In such nook Gray's deathles.
eIegy first greeted the public eye. ant
that sweetest strain ever suHg by bard
Annsbel Lee, flashed into being in
|, secluded corner of Detroit paper
while Lenore, Poe's inimitable tracer,
on the mystic margent of his imagi
. nation, was first put IN type for tha
I weird child of sorrow by him who no,
81 speaks to you OF Americas immorta
son OF song. The press is the nurser
OF poesy; poems Ground and periet
as STAR pulsating with passion
+ burst forth like ripping rivulets, sparl
J. ling with the cerruscations of genius
h fresh and pure as the dew gemmc
flowers OF morning hutter throug
o our easement. Prentice by the dc
e strokes OF his magic pen, made Ii
J. mothers grave a Mecca in the land
= poesy. Gen. Lytle's lame is not that |
died with victory sounding in his ear
but because he penned
s.. 81 am dying. Egypt, dying"
r And O'Hara will live in his deathle
f. lines long after Kentucky's lofty mon
- ment to her heroic sons, that he immo
talized, has crumbled into dust.
From the sunny, slopes Of that land
5. romance. California, the poetry OF jour
y allsm has been enriched by the geni
te OF Brete Hart and that grand singer
the Sierras, Joaquin Miller, whose gen
OF thought, engraved on the world
'e pulsating heart will be read and trea
Il, ured by mankind so long as the bl
mi pillows of the placid ocean break up,
the spotless strand. From out t
printing office speed winged words til
g. make the circuit Ot the globe, poems
s. every sentence, genius cleaning
ey every line, with Immortality woven
the woof of the song as it goes soun
ing down the ages.
III What grand tome is the press |?
oi Had Homer, the blind old bard of Sci,
lie rocky isle, been enabled to have Ii
r,s his song set In type, as sang on I
sunny shores OF the Egean. the wo
ay would not have lost many OF the rar,
he thoughts and brightest Jewels that I
We into the sarcophagus OF time from ,
s;r casket of enc OF tho grandest mir
ever endowed with poesy by the deli
," and Will Shakespeare, the poacher-po
whose jewels OF the brain have dc
in, much to enrich the world OF letters a
40. make mankind his debtor. would ha
left US many line, glowing like
opal, had he journal in which to hs
launched his argosy OF thought. silk
sailed and silver cared, out on
stream OF time.
The world Is full of possy. 1t gre
IN. us in its most subtle sense when
urI catch the CLEAN OF the sun, impris,r
IL, in the tiny dew drop. as sparkles
incarnation of the deity, in the De
'i 'ln OF rose; we feel it as the wind swe,
~ through the forest, the grand old "
nd ,--
m lcn pine," symphony sublime, ant
ne halos US with glory OF celestial sphe
81 as we read the story OF the cross,
9el subiimest drama ever enacted, as W
las ten by the poetic pen OF the lnspi
zoe evangelist l-a sf .'f1 aH7 r. -
OH Journalism, though filled with poe
ha is stern iconoclast.:. 1t has brol
nus down the Barriers erected by years
ICE bigotry, it has exploded the false il
pc THAT divinity doth hedge king" q
III. 1t speaks, as did He en- the mount
ar lsracls Chief, and tells the lndustri
au writer that there is higher plane t
Aiu can be reached-a ladder that all u
ity can climb, akin 10 that seen in a Wis
ln by the patriach, the rounds of WI
'eu were trod by men as we'll as ang
" lconoclastic the false fades belere
'Mnu M true when tested in its crucible, tol
Inc the journalistic blaze perishes the cru
Inu tho useless and the chat, while in
.eu embers glow gems OF thought immo
So as the mind that conceives them. S
.ne l believe to be the mission of the pr,
Ihe 1t is culver to hold the stray ARE
'ns OF thought, as they are shot from
alu bow OF fancy at the great heart OF
the manity by the intellectual archers OF
Tue day, and woven into coronet to crc
ny the agein which we live, and living
he, OF heroic deeds, of lovers signs, of !
son passion and hectic crime, springs
'ne zephyrs, summers fruits and Autun
zea vintage hanging purple in the gran
20! and he who lays his hand on the thro
ma! ma. valve Of this great power and fails
Sht feel the heart throbs OF the busy W.
anu aud sees no poetry in 1t, has missed
re- calling and sheuld 60 cut into the d.
ei ness, beneath the jewelled sky, and
Of the stars what is his mlssien on ca