The Arkansaw traveler., 1886-04-24
MOONLIGHT ON THE ERIE.
A Study in Song" After A. C. swinburne.
BY FRED SHELLY RYMAS.

BY FRED SHELLY RYMAS. On the breast of the Erie. whose weird waters ripple
 From Bnfalo's bluffs to the Hudson's west shore Where canallers have sprees and their "tangle- foot tpple And cover the decks of the vessel with gore: Where mules are the tools either red, white or yellow
 To yank the staunch ships towards the East or the West. Where many soul soaks all night on the pillow Iris there is the scene of my poem so blcst We had long left old Bluff and the fair Flower City Was far in wake when rose from snooze And heard some one singing d song they thought pretty,
 Concerning vessel that left Syracuse. II was in Swinburne's style, i. e, all sound and meter,
 The sense in each verse was thing hard to But every verse balanced with n see-saw tcctcr But the substance was sluNh and not anything ''Di,mond MP s the pride oi the Syracuse sailors.
 The solidcst bout with the soldest crew They never pay bills, either gr0ccrS or tailors. Or work when there is any shirkiug to do From the Salt Central City we go to the river From the river again to the city wei go, But never will fret either giZZard or liver While mule yet can pull or II uughoal can tow. Arise thou fair moon full Q fond rise nbovrrls. And gid every wave in the waters below We will lie here and dream of the dHScs who love us
 While the mules on the shore will unccnsing1y tow. Arise queen of Night in thy Scmphine splenlor In might and in main let thy lovely orb shine, Give tug to the tides like leather suspender, Give Il tug on the buttons oi kids about g. 'Twixt the moonlight and marsh just this side ni Port Byron. heard Il weird voice in the silence of night; knew cu>scd well twan f no siren Nor was il A spritc who sang out for fight Twas the Ncirrids and Neptune from lake and Who had come to inspect and protect the old ditch;
 And they drank to the health of the weird
 Water Witch But the song swiftly ceased and to zero did sim
 mer.
 Asa storm from the south struck our vessel And the light of hank Luna grew disnaly dinner,
 And hence must close this Swinburnean song Agrrnon Charles Swnburnc, you big man of
 letters,
 You muster of metre aul Scribblcr of sluSh. Keep your clam closed on Byron * Co. they re your hcttcrS
 As truly as money is better than nush
 VII. Alecrnon C. <. have written this poem In somewhat your style in the matter 0i verse Though il, like your verses. from F. s. to procm, Is full "f bomblst that iS not worth cuiSr. You have much in your poems that simply is
 silly.
 And meaningless slush which if you will cor
 rect, You will then ha1e less lime to lop round like d
 lily
 That S shorn from it's stalk and appears bro
 ken ueckcd. tio liN up your verses, cut out the expressions That are simply put in for the sound the
 rhyme, And then you won't fool with Lord Byron'S DOS
 sessions.
 That were born to live on through the irons of time. We clearly can see you do not understand him. But that k your fault and not his. A. C. S.-. Gou hurt hut yourself when your hand seeks to
 brand him,
 Of you, not oi him. will the world think the
 less Algcnon (. S. you may not this poem. And don't care d n if Vuu lu or do not . But say to your friends and I'm ready to show
 'cm,
 Your verses are filled with the rottencst rot They are lacking i'll sense. they are lacking in
 spirit.
 They are not half good ns Lord R's vir-
 gin rhymes For they. even they, will pass on to inherit The days and the praise of the worlds future -tt times t'oo'tdtt ettcagn !SHt,.