The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1894-12-06
RAKING AUTUMN LEAVES.

ana telling OF marathon and LeuCtra
and how small band Of Spartans at a
narrow pass on the Pennsylvania road
had withstood whole army.
listened till at last my mother kiss
ed my throbbing temples and babe me
go to rest, to soak my head and think
no more of those old tales and savage
wars.
That very night the Norwegians land
cd on our coast. saw the bread that
should have nourished me fed to hol-
low Norseman with red cowlick on his
brisket and nine pairs Of pantses on at
one and the same time.
O Christiania, thou hast been tender
nurse to me. Thou hast given to that
tender shepherd lad ideas on politics of
which he had not dreamed. Thou hast
taught him to ask Norwegian bless
ing at his table during the campaign
and to swap his vulcanized conscience
for the Scandinavian vote.
Thou hast taught him to love the rich
nut brown flavor Of Morse conven-
ton and to look into the glazing eye
balls of Pop Svenske men even as a
smooth checked boy might look upon a
laughing girl
Recently have been raking autumn
leaves off the lawn.
Dear sedentary reader with the Jack
luster eye, didst ever rake the autumn
leaf in order to promote a healthful
glow? It is about the most attractive
task for one who looks on and about as
joyless for the one who is doing it as
anything of which I know.
You begin with bounding heart and
sharp toothed iron rake, and the sun
comes down warm and welcome on your
corrugated back, but ere long you find
that most of the time you are pulling
autumn leaves off the sharp teeth of the
rake, and the wind is blowing them
back over the little patch which you
have raked.
One can rake autumn leaves off the
lawn until the LIST of April in some eli
mates, and then some more leaves will
grow and get ready for him to rake by
September.
A hidebound Republican here who
bought me a hat on the New York state
majority said that with a little more
combined Manchester and West Virgin
ia tariff legislation he allowed that by
year from next fall raking autumn
leaves would be the principal industry.
Politics here is carried to excess, l
think. I am able, though, to take poll
tics or let it alone.
Last week a poet sent me a long poem
for publication and criticism, and I had
written the critique already for this let
ter. but casually looking down the left
hand side of the thing discovered that
it was an acrostic reading ''Bill Nye is
plain man, mostly spectacles and
throat, and I'd rather have his money
than his promissory note" Therefore I
have suppressed the poem and will boil
down my criticism to few terse, keen
and searching sentences.
Mr.. Balzaac Peterson, the author of
the poem. is rising young poet of South
Saltwater, MINI. He writes broad verse
on the lumber piles and unprotected
buildings of Baytown and hauls saw
dust over to the penitentiary by means
Of blue dray and white mule which
needs to be rinsed off in the lake.
Far be it from me to criticise or speak
lightly of the humble employment of
any poet or his scanty equilibrium at
the bank, but I do decry and deplore
the sad environments which seem to
force Mr.. Peterson to contribute his
verse to the single pile and the desert
ed building instead of the leading mag
azines and periodicals.
Mr.. Peterson is native of Norway
and wears heavy yarn afghan around
his throat winter and summer to protect
his voice, which is q rich single mill
baritone, and chords we'll on q summer
evening with the South Saltwater troll
ley car.
His verse need hardly be referred ia
here, AZ there is nothing in it especial
" for me). It is a feeble imitation Of
Thomas Brewer Peacock Of Kansas, with
sort Of cod liver oil flavor and the un.
graceful meter Of . razorback hog pass.