Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-01-23
"WHAT MY LOVER SAID"

WHAT MY LOVER SAID"
A Poem Attributed TO Horace Greeley-One
Of Barton Hills REGULATIONS that Touched !
the Hearts of Merry Party of Newspn'
per men.
New York Correspondence of the philadelphia |
Times.
The Park theatre was just out, and
a number of actors and newspaper men
had gathered in the Palette club bar
rooms on twenty.SccOnd street. There
were present Barton Hill, his son
Henry of the editorial staff of the
herald the veteran night editor, DIR.
J. i. Wood, and w. A. Curtis, Tom
Mcguire of San Francisco, Col, Glider,
who recently came back from Artic
explorations with Lieut.. Schwatka;
Chief Judge DAILY, w. E. Sheridan,
Cyril Searle, Leander p. Richardson
and one or two other fellows. Town
send Percy came in and there was
chaff to him about the play of the
g Baff1ed Beauty, which awoke angry
answers from him and made itnecess-
airy that the conversation should
change lest something be said to the
author of that rather peculiar drama
for which there would be regrets.
And this is the way the conversation
turned. Tom Mcguire said to Barton
Hill: ''why don't you repeat your even
ing with Unknown and Forgotten
Poets. Hill! and Hill said, The affair
was so much of personal compliment
to me by the people of San Francisco
that I'm afraid it wouldn t work here
1T was so personal" said Mcguire,
''that the tickets were put at SIS, and
the great hall was crowded. suspect
| it was the most remunerative piece of
! work that Barton ever did.
The title of the entertainment at
tracted attention and the question was
put as to how and from what sources
the poets had been brought. There
upon Mr.. Hill drew a programme from
his pocket and read the names of his
selections and the authors of each
when they could be had. AS he ran
| through the list he read:
| WHAT MY LOVER SAID,
Written by Horace Greeley when
DR.. wood interrupted, remarking:
''Greeley wrote some poetry, but I
don't remember that. How does it
go!" And half dozen voices called
out: Yes; let's have it, The actor
sat back in his chair and repeated it.
1t is impossible to convey any idea of
the reading, of the modulations of
voice, the tender and delicate phrasing
of the three lines at the end of each
verse. When he had finished there
seemed to be finer sentiment pervad-
ing the little crowd, the next order
for beer was in lower and less authoita
tive toues, so that the bar man came
half hesitatingly, as fearing some out.
break. and copies and history of the
piece were generally asked for. This
is the poem:
By the merest chance, in the twilight gloom,
In the orchard path he met me
In the tall, wet grass, with its faint perfume,
And tried to pass, but he made no room,
| Oh! l tried, but he would not let me,
| So stood and blushed till the grass grew red,
| With my face bent down above it,
While be took my hand as he whispering said
How the clover lifted each pink sweet head
| To listen to all that my lover saidl
| Oh! the clover in bloom-I love it,
| In the high, wet grass went the path to hide,
ANU INC low, WEI leaves hung over,
| But could not pass on either SIDE
| For found myself, when vainly tried,
| Ill the arms of my steadfast lover,
| And he held me there, and he raised my head,
While he closed the path before me,
And he looked down into my eyes and said
How the leaves bent down from the Dough
o'erhead,
To listen to all that my lover said,
| Oh! the leaves hanging lowly DER me.
| Had he moved aside but q little way
| | could surely then have passed him,
| And he knew | could never wish to stay,
And would not have heard what he had to say,
Could | only aside have cast him.
| 1t was almost dark, and the moments sped,
And the searching night wind found us;
| But he drew me nearer and softly said
How the pure, sweet wind grew still instead
| To listen 20 all that my lover said,
| Oh, the whispering wind around us.
| | am sure he knew, when he held me fast
| That must be al unwilling;
| For tried to go, and would have passed
| As the night was come with its dews at last,
| And the sky with its stars was filling.
| But he clasped me close, when | would have
| fled,
| And he made me hear his story.
| And his soul came out from his lips and said
! How the stars crept out when the white moon
| led
| To listen to all that my lover said.
| Oh, the moon and the stars in glory,
know that the grass and the leaves will not
tell,
And I'm sure that the wind, precious rover,
| Will carry his secret so safely and well
| That no being shall ever discover
| One word of the many that rapidly fell
| From the eager lips of my lover.
And the moon and the stars they looked over
Shall never reveal what fairylke spell
! They wove around US that night in the
dell,
In the path through the dew-laden clover;
or echo the whispers that. made my heart
swell
| AS they fell from the lips of my lover.
Then Mr.. Hill said: II was in Seat
tie, W. T. some years ago-two or
three-when Mr.. H.Larrabee Of that
place recited that poem. l was so
pleased with it that l obtained a copy
| and committed it to memory. Mr..
Larrabee told me that he had cut it
from the Erening Post of New York
some twenty-five years before. In
that publication it was ascribed to
Horace Greeley. l promised to look
up the history of it, but all my endeav-