The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1886-09-11
ATTUNES HIS LYRE.
BILL NYE'5 LINES ON TIE DEATH
OF A MARRIED MAN.

Idea, and Stili Not Innamlng the Pub
uc--spcci,uens of Fine Word Paint
Ing ny the Bard.
I have been waiting patiently for tho COM
ing poet 20 take up and treat a theme which
has for years been knocking on the door Of
the slunlbcriGg bard, and asking for admission
and recognition. The slumbering bard has
| ignored that call. lie has slumbered on. lie
has turned over and put pillow in each ear,
as it were, in order to avoid the loud, clamor-
Gus appeal Of this theme. He has shown
that he would rather continue to 10 the SUM
berinS bard ut his present salary than tho
coming poet at better pay.
SO have been compelled TO a,tune my own
Tyre, and, in halting numbers, handle it my
self Ii is out of my line to write poetry, but
those who think cannot write poem that
win he ravenously snapped up and published
by the American press do not thoroughly
understand my true nature.
Any of us may be able TO write poetry, no
doubt, but will it be puhli,hedl That IL
the test win it, | ask, or will it not be pub
iishedi
To write true poetry, therefore, we must
not do SO solely to crafty ourselves. Wo
should remember that the publisher, the edi-
tor and the public have feelings, also. My
theory has always been and still Is that poetry
should be 80 written that il viii convey an
idea and s,ill not iutamc the public lni'am-
matory poetry is unworthy and tranSitory in
its results. do not know that am making
myself perfectly clear, hut 1t those who read
these lines attempt 10 write lucidly ana
learnedly on subject of which they are en-
tircly ignorant and they will see at once how
| AN hampercd
But to continue the thought. I say that
poetry should, in my Judgement, awaken a
throb in every heart Is it not pleasing sen
saton for tho true poet TO know that he holds
in his hand the consolidated throbbcrs of 80
OO0, 900 people, exclusive Of Indians, not taxed
and therefore exempt
] believe 50.
1t is therefore great boon to me to realize
on this pleasant morning that mighty null
titutle weep together with me over the follow
ing poem. which is founded on fact. There
are tears in it know. | would spare the
reader these tears if could, but | cannot. l
have run the poem through the wlinger three
or four times, but it Is still damp.
VIII the reader forgive me and loan me his
lachrymal glands for few momentsi
The poem itself is based upon the sudden
drowning of n married man, who bad bean for
years connected with the eel business By his
death his widowed wife was left with no hus-
band The poem seeks to disclose her woe
and st i'll reveal to the thinking mind how she
muzzled her great grief and battled on through
life.
In the third and fourth stanzas aim 10 do
some fine word painting, and present to the
careful student "A delicate lttIc picture OF the
humid and yet hungry, moaning sen.
Later on may write some more sad poems,
and finally print Thorn IN small, dark blue
volume that viii he within the reach Of all.
Writing poetry with mo is not irksome. II
: is not hard work 1t does not strain my mind
In fact can write poetry readily while using
my mind for other purposes. 1t is not &c
. uuired in my case. 1t is a gift. Ever since
got ierked around in n cyclone two years age
y and stepped on peal OF thunder and broke
my leg and concusSed my brain, lcould write
>. poetry like this
h 4 BRAVE HEART
BEING LINES on THE DEATH or 4 MARRIED MAJ
by A FELLOW SUFFERER.
Ont where the blue waves come and go,
v ont where the aephyrs kiss the strand,
" Down where the damp tides ebb and flow,
\ Down where the ocean monkeys with the sand
@ William the hungry, rIlstl1s for his meal
/. Sim William, the eellst, gathers the eel.
=, Up where the Johnny Jump Ups smile,
= I'd where tho green hills meet the sky,
Where, out from her window for many n mile,
She watches tho blue and dmpling lie,
The wife OF the celist, with vlsagc grim,
sits in the cleaning and watches for him.
= Down IN the moist and moaning sea,
- Down where the day can never come,
= With staring eyes that can never SEQ
And lips that will ever continue dumb,
With ecls In his breast, in IA large wet wave,
william is fllliBga watery grave.
".
= Tn where the cntnlp is breathing hard,
Up where the tanzy Is hccked with dew,
Where the vespcr soft as the onion p"els
Wakcns the echoes the twilight through,
The new made widow still watches the shore
And sits there and waits, as said before.
10 V.
81 They come and tell her the pltfnl tale,
With trembling voice and tear dimmcd eye,
IN They watch her cheek grow slightly pale,
id Yet wonder at the calm reply:
IAN our tears are but idle gentlemen
Go bring in the cels and set him again"
Bill Nyc in Boston Globe.