The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-12-21
TIE OBITUARY POET,

1t will be difficult to conceive Of anything
more gruesone than obituary poetry, for cur
rent poetry in its best estate is none too good.
1t is fortunate that. this community has not
yet fallen under the ban of having to read, or
rather to see, verse OF two or half dozlu at
tached to every death notice that appears in
print. The dailies of lphia-notably
the Ledger-have long been cursed with this
evil, for it is nothing but evil from beginning
to end. A stanza that is maddening at first
readingis repeated with ''damnable iteration"
day after day, month after month, and
through what seem interninable ages, until
at last the exasperated public can only look
and swear to never look again, and, swearing,
look once more. 'Max Adler" made des-
perate attempt to kill the impious practice by
subiecting it to we'll merited ridicule. 1t was
like firing paper-wads at an iron-clad and had
no more effect. The Ledger for years has
kept galleys of obituary poetry standing ready
for use, and some of the familiar stanzas have
been used probably thousand times, in some
issues appearing in perhaps half dozen no
tees Who has not read
"Little Johnny thou hast left us,
And thy loss deeply feel
For It's God who hath bereft US
He can all our sorrows heal
The incoherency, not to say absolute idiocy,
of such trash in no wise impairs its adapta-
bility; for Johnny is easily changed to
Jimmy" Benny" "Joseph," and even
Josephine" and in it goes again and again.
regardless of the public peace and quiet The
West has been spared thus far, and it is to
be hoped that the senseless custom will never
obtain recognition here. Somewhat of a foot
hold is being gained at Cincinnati, consider
able space being taken up with just such
stuff as has made the Philadelphia paper
stupid beyond compare. At Cincinnati even
worse features have been introduced, and it
has become customary to perpetrate memorial
poems" on the anniversary of the death of
those now unable to defend themselves
against such outrages. Take the last Sun
day. issue of paper of that city-the Sun
day edition seems to be a favorite
with those who love obituary poetry. In it
appeared five poems" of various length,
three commemorating the death of persons in
1883, and one was Gin memory of -, muir
dered by - in -, 1888" Cheerful read
ing, isn't it, And what kind of mind can it
be that can find balm in the venting of
spleen9 But look at the poetry Of what
possible good is such as this, clipped from the
paper in question?
"Slowly in the village church-yard
Tolls the solemn bell;
Sweetly in her coffin resting,
Sleeps mother well.
Closed her deep-bue eyes forever
With the lashes dropping DER,
Clasped the hands together,
Neer to open ever more
One would naturally pray to "never ever
more" be inflicted with such stuff Here is
another stagger, perpetrated in the insane
belief that something of the kind was due
the deceased:
"God has taken from us our mother
To that svery, shining shore;
mother good and kind
A wife true and faithful,
One that God alone find.
'Thy gentle voice and eyes so bright
We sadly miss;
But we know that thou art happy
In thy home forever more"
The other attempts are equally ''meritorious"
no better, and, of course, no worse They
could not be worse. We may congratulate
ourselves that the dead do not return to earth
If they did, it would probably be with a club.
In all seriousness, however, it is deplorable
that such crude ideas prevail of how to honor
the memory of the dead
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