The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-08-11
Sons. London: David Mutt. For sale by
Doxey, San Francisco.
THE HOOsIER POET.


J. Cosgro has the following:
Nearly all the poets of the old world and the
new have sought their inspiration in the classic
founts of Greece or Rome, the myths OF North
ern Europe or the fabulous tales OF the Mlddle
Ages.
Tennyson, it is said, is at his best in the
'Idylls of the King''-Launcelot and Gnin-
evere, with other romantic legends OF King
Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.
Our own LOngfelloW is under the influence or
Scandinavian folk lore and Indian tradition;
Oliver Wendell Holmes, the gay and witty poet
of society, wrote too much oswald ow-ta1led'
poetry to rank him among the lmmortals;
Edgar Allan Poe seemed satisfied with weird
and mystical jingle of sounds, and Walt Whit
man mistook eccentricity Tor naturalneSS.
James Whitcomb Riley, "the country poet"
draws his inspiration direct from nature and
the human heart. He comes to US as the boy
on the farm comes from the old well in the
meadows, splitting his pitcher OF song along the
way.
This unique and unrivaled genius is q ma
tive of the Hoosier State. Boyhood and early
manhood were passed working on a farm in
Indiana and rambling through the neighbor-
ing villages. Many day he dreamed away III
the meadow, listening listlessly, yet learning
the birds songs, and stocking the palette of
his imagination with all the cOlors OF the land
scape, till finally he took the music OF the
brook, the sweet-scented soul of the clover, the
solos of the birds and all the symphonies of
field and wood, and wove them into happy
words.
Astride the rail fence, talking with the fellow
country store visiting as friend the families
for miles around, he learned all there was. In
this miniature yet model world; he learned to
know and love and sympathize with the peo-
pie he met; and then he added to his poets
harp the heart-strings OF men, women and chill
dren.
OF the plain yet princely people whom he
knew; these are the people who have walked
and talked in Riley's life, ana they are the
men he puts into his verse. He never leaves his
own home for his landscape, nor his own ac-
quaintances for the characters of his song.
Their faces shine and smile through it all; 1t
is their laughter, their sorrows and ioys-it is
their fields and farms and homes, the familiar
spots of his own Hoosier home-that he writes
OF, and somehow he appeals to all the world,
Such poems as Knee Deep in June "The
DAYS Gone By and '"The Orchard Lands of
Long Ago." are the experiences and dreams OF
all, idealized and glorifed; while "Old
John Henry" civilian Leachman," "Aian by
the Name of Bous" and many Others, are men
who pass and repass us all our days, immortal
lied and apotheosized by his marvellous
genius.
suffering consolation for all sorrows. laughter
at all eccentricities, forgiveness and philoso-
ply for all fallingS, and unsunted praise tor
all the virtues OF the virtuous. Life to him
seems like a sheet of music wherein is written
every note and out of the harpsichord OF the
heart, with tender touch, he draws forth rare
and wondrous melodies-now laughter, now
tears. and anon pathos and joy.
Do not conclude that because Riley writes OF
plain man therefore he is inferior to the classic
rhymesters; for this very reason he is superior
Tennyson's men are suited best for coats of
mail and lance and shield Holmes would feel
much out OF place unless attired in evening
dress; Walt Whitman's were never seen out
side OF a museum, while Edgar Allan Poe's
strange creations never inhabited EARTH
Rileys characters are regardless OF habit; the
soul OF man needs no costuming. There is the
same difference between the work of Riley
and Tennvson as between Abraham Lincoln
and the Apollo Belvedere; one throbs with
pulse and soul; the other is cold, passlonless,
yet artistic.
Compare Holmes poem, "The Boys" with
Rney's of the same name. Holmes Is, as
usual, definite, practical and witty Riley's is
the more ideal, suggestive, poetic, pathetic.
People are reading Riley's works who never
cared Tor poetry before, because they recognize
the beauty of the pictures he paints, sketched,
as it were, from their own visions.
His Imagination is true TO nature and ope-
rates like nature. simple fact of homely life
passing through his tropical fancy bursts like
the sunlight through cathedral windows, into
blossoms OF iridescent beauty And his works
have even more than beauty; hidden in the
hOmely garb of rustic speech are words wise as
Socrates uttered. His Hoosler dialect holds
the wealth of Platos wisdom and philosophy
as profound as Herbert Spencers, and much
more comforting. The dialect poem. "My Phil
sermons beautiful Hands and 'Illeles"
suggest and equal Tennyson's MAUD" in
thought and passion. "ln the Dark" 1.-The
Lost Kiss" and "a Vision of Summer are
Longfellow almost beyond his best Scattered
here and there are many passages worthy OF
Wordsworth.
"Songs of Childhood" Others have written
children S verses, but they have been merely
nonsensical prattle-liLtle peppermint sticks
of poetry for the babies Riley's child verse is
worthy the perusal of q philosopher. He has
caught the real spirit of children-their clever
ness, sweetness, sincerity. No fearless eye can
read "Lttle Hally," nor laughless lip linger
over The Fishing Party" or "Prior to Miss
Bellies Appearance" and a myriad such. He
is the unrivaled poet laureate of child life
the sweetest singer of child songs for lovers of
children and for those who once were children
themselves.
If you enjoy the scenes and songs OF sum-
mer-the meadows, where the sunshine ploWs
its golden burrows across the shadows; the zig
gag rail fence staggering across the landscape;
lazy groups of sunhowers loafng in the corners
of the field where little yellow butterflies fly
over the clover in twos and twos like clipping
couples of buttercups, and their big scarlet
comrades Pickering Like flame among the
flowers; bobolinks and bluebirds in the air,
like winged canoes and sapphires, glittering
and twittering and singing, and over all the
great white sails of clouds drifting dreamily
over the blue-if your life has lost something
or you are yearning Tor the unattained, per-
haps unattainable; if you are touched by
memories OF the past and thrilled by hopes OF
coming days; if you have love for the old and
dreams of the neW-then you will enjoy Riley.
Open q volume. Here are songs of the tender
and true-of homely, holy things: songs that
rekindle the ashes OH the hearth, and paint
upon the canvas OF happy revere the fadeIeSS
faces of all the dear and dead and dreamed OF
songs OF the days that are gone and the ways
that you went-of childhood and boyhood and
manhood.
Oh, sweet MINSTREL sing on? Sing the
dreamer home, back along the weary winding
ways he trod since boyhood's days, back by
the tshing-streams that whisper through the
meadows of remem bered Junes; sing him back
barefoot and whistling by the clover-fringed
pathways of the pasture lands at twilight;
sing MIN back to mothers knee, her happy
smile and lullaby of love-all the old songs of
the heart and of home and of kindred, the
nights of happy dreams, the days of happier
realities.
WHEN VALMoND CAME TO PONTIAC"
Stone & Kimball have taught us to ex-
pect beautiful books from their press, and
as bit of beautiful bookmaking this
attractively entitled volume is quite up to
the firms standard. "When Valmond
Came to Pontiac is the story of a lost
Napoleon. AS the story, goes the great
Napoleon had son, born at st. Helena,
by a Countess well known in Europe. She
had landed, disguised as a sailor, from
merchant ship and lived in retirement at
Longwood for nearly year. After the
Emperor died the thing was discovered,