The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1889-11-28

Then | got to work on my poem 1t
took me one hour and half to write the
first verse. became discouraged before
| had written two lines and would have
given up but for Ncllie's encouragement.
"Now, what's the use, Nell; just listen
to this stuff, i" said |, reading the stanza:
The turkey roosteth high tonight
He's hid in the henlock tree;
In fancy l see his plumage bright,
But he gobbles not for me-
"Why, / think it's real nice. | didn't
know you could write so we'll as that.
It's splendid; write another stanza."
"But don't you see, Nell, that it isn't
true. The turkey don't gobble at night"
ooh, WELL that don't make any differ
cnce. The poets always have license, you
know. Besides, how many persons will
know that he doesn't gobble at night!
Not one in hundred"
'I'm afraid it's no good and that it
won't go with the editor. Anyhow, I'll
try few lines more"
The little clock licked monotonously
on the mantel. The fire burned low,
and Nellie put shawl over her should
ers, for the room was growing cold. But
the chill air did not affect me. | was
giving birth to a poem. The second
stanza came easier What bothered me
most was the rhyme. / think, to the
best of my recollection, that the second
instalment consumed a half hour of in
tense thought. l was better satisfied
than with the first stanza, because knew
it was truer. Here 1t is, just as l read it
to Nellie:
His comb is as red as ruddy wine,
His breast is a shining sheen:
But his carcass is safe from me and mine
We can't pick his wishbone clean.
The muse was rather skittish at the
lird stanza. | coaxed her with pipe
OF tobacco, the fumes Of which made Mel
lie cough, and | persuaded her to go to
bed. The clock struck II. The wind
ratified the window frame and | began to
think that poets earned their money. |
| almost fell asleep over this stanza.
While laboriously constructing it there
came a picture to me of the old farm
house in the Catskills, the table groaning
with its weight of good things. 1t oc-
CURED to me just here that / was doing
the groaning now. When finished, after
many interlineations and corrections, it
read as follows
There was time long, long ago,
When deprived of his feathery vest.
seized his leg in my strong right hand,
And dissected his meaty breast.
By this time 1 had got into the spirit
OF my undertaking. The lines ran off
the end of my pen as smoothly as water
runs off ducks back. With conf
dent smile finished the last verse.
The next morning had to fill up the
hole in ten-cent piece with soap and
ashes In order to deceive the toll -taker at
the elevated railroad station. All the
way down town l read and reread the
alleged poem, trying to perfect it. When
l arrived in New York | hesitated before
the big newspaper offices, afraid to 90
in. At last l managed to pluck up
courage enough to go up stairs, where.
contrary to my expectations, | was kindly
received and was told that my poem
would be read, and if it possessed suffi-
cient merit it would be printed. Twas
encouraging, to be sure, but what was l
going to do in the meantime for the
turkey?
The day was spent in the usual way,
running around looking for a job and |
finding none. managed, however, to
earn fifty cents by carrying some coal. |
1t hurt my pride to do it, but the faces
Of the children rose before me, and | |
would almost have committed murder
Just then.