Rock Island daily Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1886-1893, 1886-12-21
ATTUNES HIS LYRE.
BILL NYE'S LINES ON THE DEATH
OF A MARRIED MAN.

BILL NYE'S LINES ON The DEATH
OF A MARRIED MAN.
Written on the Theory of Conveying an
lic-Specimens of Fine Word Paint
ing by the Bard.
have been waiting patiently for the COM
ing poet to take up and treat a theme which
has for years been knocking on the door of
the slumbering bard, and asking for admission
and recognition. Tho silmbering bard has
ignored that call He has sIumbered on He
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 he the SUM
bering bard at his present salary than the
coming poet at better pay.
So have been compelled to attune my OWL
Tyre, and, in hating numbers, handle it my
self. 1t is out of my line to write poetry, but
those who think | cannot write poem that
will be ravenously snapped up and published
by the American press do not thoroughly
understand my true nature.
ANY of us may he able to write poetry III
doubt; but will it be published2 That i
the test. VIII it, ask or will it not he pub
lished.
To write true poetry, therefore, we mus
not do so solely to crafty ourselves. w
should remember that the publisher, the edi
tor and the public have feelings, also. My
theory has always been and still is that poetr,
should be so written that it will convey al
idea and still not inflamc the public. lniiam
matory poetry is unworthy and transitory ii
its results do not know that am maxim;
myself perfectly clear, but let those who rea'
these lines attempt to write lucidly an,
learnedly on subject of which they are en-
tirely ignorant and they will see at once how
/ am hampered.
But to continue the thought. l say tina
poetry should, in my judgement, awaken
throb in every heart. Is it not pleasing sen
sation for the true poet to know that he hold
in his hand the consolidated throbbers of so
100000 people, exclusive of Indians, not take
and therefore exempt!
believe so.
1t is therefore a great boon to me TO realiz
| on this pleasant morning that a mighty ma
:itude weep together with me over the follow
| ing poem, which is founded on fact. Their
| are tears In il | know | would spare th
| reader these tears if could, but l cannot
have run the poem through the wringer thre
| or four times, but it Is still damp.
| VIII the reader forgive me and loan me Ii
| .achrymal glands for a few moments?
| The poem itself is based upon the sudde
| /
| years connected with the eel business. BY h
death his widowed wife was left with no hu
hand. The poem seeks to discloss<,er VIC
and still reveal to the thinking mind'how 81
muzzlod her great grief and hattlel on throug
| life
| In the third and fourth stanzas | aim to d
some fine word painting, and present to Il
careful student delicate httic picture of ii
| humid and yet hungry, moaning sea.
Later on | may write some more sad poem
and finally print them in small, dark blU
volume that will he within the reach of all,
Writing poetry with me is not irkSome.
is not hard work. 1t does not strain my min,
In fact | can write poetry readily while usill
my mind for other purposes 1t is not a
quired in my case 1t is gift. Ever since
got jerked around in a cyclone two years ag
and stepped on peal Of thunder and brol
my leg and concuSsed my brain, Gcould wri
poetry like this:
A BRAVE HEART
BEING LINES ON TIE DEATH OF MARRIED. III
ny A FELLOW SUFFERER.
Out where the blue waves come aud go,
Out where the Eephyrs kiss the strand.
Down where the damp tides ebh and flow.
Down where the ocean monkeys with The san
William, the hungry, rIstIes for his meal,
Slim William, the eest, gathers the eel,
Up where the Johnny Jump Ups smile,
Upwhere the green hills meet the sky.
Where, out from her window for many mile,
She watches the blue and dmpllng he,
The wife Of the eelist, with visage grim,
Sits In the cleaning and watches for him.
Down in tho mois; and moaning SEA
Down where the day can never come,
With staring eyes that can never see
And lips that viii ever continue dumb
! With eels in his breass, in a large wet wave.
William is ,llling watery grave.
".
Up where the catnipis breathing hard,
Up where the tanzy is fiecked with dew.
Where the vcsTs.r sOf' as the onion I.eels
/ Wakens the echoes the twilight through.
The new-made widow still watches the shors
And sits there and waits, as said before,
They come and tell her the pitiful tale,
With trembling voice and teaT.dirlmad eye,
ha-,. t..T;fr fIr-