The Cheyenne daily leader. [volume] (Cheyenne, Wyo.) 1870-1884, 1881-10-01
FACT n M
A Lusid ExDIalarisa Of an Esthetie
-C0mDSsftion-

Riordan has published a very s'simple, y
pure" and s~intense' little poem,
which really is a fine example of the
"wilde" yearning of the b~ric-a-brae
school Of modern poetry. One gets a
faint glimpse of the authors menag-
erie in the first verse. telling how
Women, moths. bats, beetles. toAds
Love the passing away of day.
line graying OF all colors bodies
To them soft circumstance, fair play
For purposeless activities
mt underlined sympathies;
in the last line of which verse is had a
mild hint of the ''unkissed kisses
which have been floating about SC pro-
miscuously in the press Of late; and
even careless scrutiny Of the company
In which the owner of these unaspir-
ated aspirates is placed, will easily
show why she prefers to keep them to
herself. There is no ''fair play" in the
circumstance in the least. But the
writer hits the mark in the following
stanza:
Now.one's mind is like his dress-
No one can Its color guess;
Now ones heart 10 like the sky
Changing. doubtful. rich;
And conscience, like the crossroads sign
That tells not which IL which.
Ones mind is often cut bias, and some
more air antique being denominated
by the unpoetic multitude as fogy, and
in color decidedly blue, azure idea Of
the matter may be.
Ones heart Is like the sky, light, the
region of moony incandescence and
lunar lunacy, and other flights of fancy;
but the writer is ''off" on the conscience
business, or else took his green grocer
for a sample; whose conscience plainly
told, no doubt, the distance to both
sand barrel and sugar bin, but failed
to say which was which. whose scru-
pies against tricks of the craft were as
light as the scruples in his balance;
who was crafty and cunning and all
that sort Of thing; but that cannot be
taken as a sentiment meant for all.
Now there is not one Of the ladies who
would receive an unwelcome caller
with open arms and invite her most
cordially to call again, when she hoped
from the depths of her aerial heart that
she will not put her foot inside the
house in ten years. There is not a good
deacon in one of our churches, now is
there, who would listen with mild in
difference to the story Of some poor
poverty-stricken wretch who might be
dying in his miserable quarters. more
from lack Of nourishing food and
proper cart than from the ravages of
disease, and then at the brief funeral
services offer up an affecting prayer to
an inscrutable Providence which has
seen ct to deal this heavy stroke upon
the grieving children and Borrowing
notherp Oh, no; this statement is a
good ways of. 1t don't apply to us,
but some indefinite somebody m
where else.
1 take some vagrant scent for guide
Swe.t-briar, lilac. m%ignonette.
woodbine, hawthorn, violet.
And wander far and wide,
Homeless, nameless-kith nor kin
Nor law above me nor within.
The writer must have queer olfacto.
ries. Perhaps he was brought up e
n of the garlic shops Of Rome. The
''sweetbriar," etc., is all put in for eff
feet. The vagrant is sent for a guide.
A guide must be strong, quick, pene-
trating. The second and third lines do
not fill the bill, and can't pass. If it
had been onions, or limburger, or some
other strong element Gaelic civilization,
there might have been some scents in
the statement; but as it is, nothing can
so successfully wander far and wide as
the aroma from the back shop of some
Italian eating house, y
Homeless, nameless-kith nor kin
Nor law above nor yet Within"
They answer this description to the
dot.
But wayside things l gladly greet,
AS OF my blood's most cherished strain.
They feed me with forbidden sweet;
Though drawn apart, I'm theirs again.
1 kiss the stars, / clasp the SKY,
And with the clouds on hill-tops lie.
Poor fellowl Fed on taffy and ''raised
a pet" the weight of his feet retaining
him to this mundane sphere, but the
attraction heavenward drawing him
upward until his body resembles that Of
u wasp, he tries to comet on the stars
with his ''vagrant scent'-ed lips, and
embraces the sky and ''lies on the
mountain tops with the Clouds" in
open defiance to rheumatism and sore
throat. Why. that fellow would lie
anywhere you might put him. The
prospect of a mighty tumble into the
cauldron of Pluto's maccaroni stand
wouldn't cause him to desist from his
prevarication. A fellow who has moth
ing better to do than to practice, at
such long range, kissing A thought:
maybe he is one Of Denver's profess
sional "mashers," who run the gauntlet
of carriages and pugilistic exercises to
get a station on the steps to the private
entrance to the d-essing-room of the
Tabor grand. This lie proven, in fact,
by the closing s~tanza, which inspires a
picture OF funerals, panegyrics and
things. The poor fellow leaves behind
his eighteen dollar suit Of ready-made