Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1886-09-05

Takes a Whack al the Muse HlmSelf-He AttunE
His Tyre and Makes Us W~sep-Lachry-
nose Verses Which Frequently Rhyme
But Which William Knows
Well We Shall Skip EV-
cry Time.
have been waiting patiently for the
coming poet to take up and treat a theme
which hes for wears been knocking on the
door of the slumbering bard and asking
for admission and recognition. The slum-
bering bard has ignored that call. He has
slumbered on. He has turned over and
put n pillow in each ear, a it were, in or
der to avoid the loud, clamOrOus appeal OF
this theme. He has shown that he would
rather continue to be the s~lumbering bard
at his present salary thar the coming poet
at better pay.
SO l have been compelled to attune my
own Tyre, and, in hating numbers, handle
it myself. 1t is out of my line to write
poetry, but those who think l cannot
write a poem that will be r%avenOusly
snapped up and published by the Ameri-
can press do not thoroughly understand
my true nature.
ANY of us may he able 10 write poetry, no
doubt; but will it be published? That is
the test. Will it, | ask, or will it not be
published?
To write true poetry, therefore, wemuSt
not do so solely TO crafty ourselves. We
should remember that the publisher, the
editor and the public have feelings, also.
NV theory has always been and still is that
poetry should be 80 written that II will
convey an idea and still not inflame the
public. IntlammatOry poetry is unworthy
and tranSitory in its results. | do not
know that | am making myself perfectly
clear, but let those who read these lines
attempt to write lucidly and learnedly on
Il subject ofwhich they are entirely ignorant
and they will see at once how am ham,
pered.
But to continue the thought. say that
poetry should, in my judgment, awaken a
thrOb in every heart. 1t is not a pleasing
sensation for the true poet 10 know that he
holds in his hand the consolidated thrObbers
of 80. 600, 600 people exclusive OF Indians
not taxed and therefore exempt?
believe 50.
1t is therefore a great boon to me to
realize OH this pleasant morning that 4
mighty multitude weep together with me
over the following poem, which is founded
~, t,,t FTbAra n ~ fnarS in ~ EnnU |
would spare the reader these tears If
could, but | cannot. | have run the poem
through the wringer three or four times,
but il is still damp.
Will the reader forgive Inc and lend me
his lachrymal glands for Il few moments:
The poem itself is based upon the sud
den drowning OF 4 married man who had
been for years connected with the eel
business. BY his death his widowed wife
was left with no husband. The poem
seeks TO disclose her woe and still reveal to
the thinking mind how she muZzled her
great grief and battled on through life.
In the third and fourth Stanzas | aim IL
do some fine word painting, and present tC
the careful student 4 delicate little picture
OF the humid and yet hungry, moaning
sea.
Later Oh ] may write some more sad
poems, and finally print them in Il SINAI
dark blue volume that will be within the
reach of all.
Writing poetry with Inc is not irksome,
Ii is not hard work. 1t does not strain
nv mind. In fact | can write poetry readily
while using my mind for other purposes,
II is not acquired in my case. 1t is a gift,
Ever since | got jerked around in q cyclont
two years ago and stepped on a peal Of
thunder and broke my leg and ~cOncussed
my brain, l could write poetry like this
BRAVE HEART.
BEING LINES oN THE DEATH OF 4 MARRIED Ma
BY 4 FELLOw-SUFERER
Ont where the blue waves come and GO,
cut " here the zcphyrs kiss the strand,
Down where the damp tide e6b and flow,
Down where the ocean monkeys with the sand
william. the hungry. rustle> for his meal.
slim William. the rclisI, gathers the eel.
Up where the Johnny Jump Ups Smite.
Up where the green hills meet the sky.
Where, ont from her window for many a mile
She watches the blue sra dimpling lie,
The wife OF the eeliSt, with viSage grim,
sits in the cleaning and watches for him.
III.
Down in the moist and moaning sea,
Down where the day can never come.
With staring eyes that can never see
And lips that will ever continue dumb,
With eelS in his breast, in q large Wet wave,
William i filling a wateTE grave.
".
Up where the Catnip i breathing hard,
Cp where the tanZy is fecked with dew,
Where the vtSpe5 soft As the onion Peels
WakenS the echoes the twilight through,
The neW-madr widow sill watches the shore
And sits there and waits rs / said before.
!.
They come and tell her the pitiful tale,
With trembling voice and teAr-dimmed eve.
They watch her cheek grow slightly pale,
Net wonder al the calm reply.
All our tears are but idle, gentlemen.
TO bring in the ecls and set him again"
BILL NE.