Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1884-02-19
Poetry in Illinois.
From the Chicago Tribune.I

lFItHt Tie NnICdSo AiiuuhS'J
'Iwant to see the poetry EDITOR said
a young lady who stepped very briskly into
the room-''ths gentleman that puts all
those lovely pieces in the paper every Satur-
day. Don't you think they're sweet?"
The horse reporter nodded aequisceuce in
the saccaharine character of the efforts al
luded to.
81 would like to see him personally"
continued the young lady, "because it would
be so nice to talk with him about Tennyson,
and Longfellow, and all those other dear old
things, wouldn't it?"
Tie personal friend of Maud s. again in-
clined his head.
sYou don It think he'll be in again this
afternoon, do yon? I'd like awfully to see
see him. But perhaps you can help me-
Pm in an awful fix"
whats the mattere" asked the horse
reporter.
s'Why," continued the young lady, 81
live over on the West side, and we've got q
literary society, and at the next meeting |
am down to read q paper ON Poetry as an
Art and
SIS poetry an art 81 asked the horse re
porter. 81 thought it was an affection"
''Well, don't know about that, said
the young lady; 'but, anyhow, I've got to
that perhaps one of you editors conld assist
lie. | want to get some extracts from the
works of our best known poets to illustrate
what shall say. Now, there's MIR. Tsnny
son, for instance; he's written some fine
poetry, hasn't he p
Eyes Alf has occasionally shot some
pretty fair verse athwart the literary hori-
zon.'
Gould you give me specimen of his
styie?' eagerly asked the young lady. 81
never read line of those big poets in my
Gfe-nothing but what the Tribune poets
write"
.sWe have got some daisies from Daisy
vile on our staff" said the horse reporter
'.hut il you want "a few gems from the OLD
masters ] suppose you can have them
Tennyson's May Queen is one Of his most
popular poems. Want some of that?"
''Why, yes. / should think TWO or three
verses would be just the thing
''Well,'' said the horse reporter, lit goes
like this
.'H ou must wake and call me early. call me
Iy, mother dear;
1o-mOrrOW'il be lhe boss old day for pop ana
ginger beer:
And when they strike the pie. mother, Eli say
nay little say
For I'm to be Queen Of the May, mother I'm to
be Queen of the May.
There's many nifty gill, they say, but none
lays over NE;
There's Margaret and Mary, and cross-eyed
Lucy Lee;
But you BET your life take the cake, snd of
So I'm to be Queen OF the May, mother, I'm 10
he Queen of the May
'.Do you think that is enough % asked
the young lady.
''Oh. yes; those verses will give 'em an
idea of Alf s gait. Variety is what they
want, you know. You ought to have some
thing from Bryant. His Indian Girls
Lament is pretty well thought of"
SIS it? I'm sure l don't know, l shall
leave it all to you"
''Well I can give you chunk of it.
''De, if you please"
''This is the way it starts:
"'An Indian girl was sitting where
d. Her lover. Walaing-Flaa Patch, lay;
Beside her stood a spawned horse
That sadly cheWeo some tnusty hay,
Upon stump herself she flung,
And then this simple lay she sung:
ave placed the bottle at your head.
. Walking Flea Patch so that when
Yen strike the town and paint it. red
You will not miss yonr Laushing Her,
VINO, sitting in the ~igwau', will
Adore her noble warrior ktill"
''Now, you see,' said the horse reporter,
those selections cover the childish glee ana
loving trustfulness rackets. What you
want to finish with is something pathetic
something that will make the young women
sniffle. Hoods Song of the Shirt ought
to do that nicely. Suppose We sing em a
few lines of that"
'.Very WE'LL" said the young lady. "You
know depend wholly on your Judgment in
this matter"
"Well here it is:
with fingers weary and worn,
In 8 little five-room fat,
A woman sat with eyelids red
Trying to Trim a hat.
Rip. turn, twist,
Then give IL a spiteful fiirt
While beside her lies like ghO7tly thing
Her husbands buttonless shirt.
q girls, with brothers dear!
@ girls who hope to be wives!
Remember that shirts with buttons are
The dream Of mems hard lives.
Rip. turn, twist,
TIL your hands are weary and worn
But The wind will sweep with q wailing sigh
Through the pants that are ever torn.p
.'Youre very kind" said the young lady,
going