Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1892-06-09
HIS CALENDAR.

HIS CALENDAR.
1t Was Original with Him, but the Ed
itor Didn't Want 1t.
He was thin man with long mayor
naise ringlets that rested on his shoulders
and made the existence of collar about
his neck a matter of faith in the beholder
He stepped lightly in and asked the editor
How would you like an original calen
dar for 1882"
"Who originated its" asked the editor.
Il did," replied the poet, with pleasant
smile. ..e
st is pretty early to think of calendar
for 1885," said the editor refectively, "but
how does it go?"
Part of it is in the conventional rut, such
as indicating the anniversary of the birth
of Andrew Jackson and the battle of Bue
ma Vista. All the changes of the moon are
duly chronicled, but the thing have just
laid myself out on is the poetical business. u
Let's hear some of it" said the editor.
"To begin with" replied the poet, run.
ming his fingers through his mayonnaise
hair dreamily, ~ have credited the verses
to imaginary poets. Now here is one for
Nauy upUllDutCu W u. ~.
Now the balmy breeze Is blowing
Der the bosom of the lea,
And the apple tree is showing
Fragile blossoms in sea.
Now would you like comic snapper
ON the endS' asked the poet. pausing.
"Yes," said the editor.
And the billy goat is going
For the hoopskirt In his glce,
And the bluebird's overfiowng
With Its tra-la- la-la-le.
Flows that?" asked the poet
First rate" said the editor, pausing in
his work and putting his feet on the desk.
Now let's see what you have to say about
October"
The poet was beside himself with joy. 1t
was all he could do to keep still. And the
editor thought nothing of it when he beat
time with his foot Ikea banjo player while
he read:
Oh, a silver frost is nipping
All the roses In the mead,
While the scarlet leaf Is skipping
And the baseball's gone to seed.
There's hectic beauty floating
Like phantom round the weir,
And the henchman dreams of voting
AS he sips the amber beer,
While the lily
In the chilly
Zephyr seems to disappear.
II attribute that to Hieronymus Oily.
phant," said the poet as he paused.
1T is very flne," remarked the editor,
"but you must have something of a very
soulful character, referring to that chaste
ambrosial season when the marrowfat pea
peeps from the moist, warm earth?'
Il have" replied the poet, lin my lyric
on June"
Now the rosy posy springtime's
Cavorting like phantom,
And the flowers in the garden
Are uprooted by the bantam.
Now the ice mans up and doing,
And the baseball seasons booming,
And beside the pleasant brookside
The wild poppy flower is blooming
Are the verses on the other months az
goodW asked the editor.
"On the average, yes" replied the poet,
land have taken pains to make them all |
popular in tone, with lots of high poetic |
trimmings have done them In the finest
style of the divine art, and they are SO con-
structed that with slight change they
can be made into patent medicine verses.
What do you think of the schemeS"
lie, Sdlu Gle eQlCOr.
SIS it worth 81. 5OS" asked the poet hope. |
fully.
mot to u.s." said the editor, because it |
is not in our line. If it were in our line it |
would be worth an even three dollars, but |
not being in our line, it is not worth any
more to us than pair Of bracelets would
be to an elephant"
ut was pretty rough to raise my ex.
pectations in that way and then let me
down so hard and suddenly" moaned the
poet in fine. sweet sorrow.
II only treated you with politeness. 1t
is usually said that editors throw poets
down stairs and out of windows. If had
done that you would think me brute.
Now you think me hard and unamiableI
when am doing my utmost to treat you
with courtesy and consideration, don't
your"
Yes" said the poet.
"Then," said the editor, here is 81. sol
Tor your calendar. Now, want you to 20
sorth and say there is one white editor in the
and who treats the poet like an antique
god"
The poet said he would and as he headed
,or beanery with the $3.50 in his bony
hand, he sang:
The goldenrod is blowing,
And the purple aster too;
And the ashen rabbits skipping
The tra-la-la-la-loo.
Detroit Free Press.