Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1896-02-20

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strongest and most impressive terms, In some
scene reminiscent most especially, where
whole cities, mill streams, snakes and all
have been in, on or upon their brain, all At
tho same time Bosh. A woman don't
know anything Of brain capacity. Yes, 1
will make it poetry -reminiscent poetry.
Now am alone with my thoughts. Hal
here comes Matthias sigmund. know him
even In that disguise. He has on guano
sack blanket, chicken feathers sewed on the
seams Of bis trousers. brimless hat with
squirrel tail plume, face frescoed with col.
ored chalk and an elder popgun. ugh"
lnjun heap want trapper man-kill brave
chief Lemon Ear-ugh-go dog of an indian
-bang"
Ali those days when we played among
the pines. Then the heart was young. 1t
had no sears burned upon It by experience.
Then we ran and swan and climbed after
squirrels, up forty foot without. q limb pop.
lar, With long iron army musket ramrod
fastened to the country seat Of our boomers,
climbed the weak aud tender early cherry
tree and everything else that pointed up.
ward. from grape vine to the top stone of
Chimney rock; climbed down too, into old
wells for lost bale, down disused ore shafts
for fun, and into holes in the rocks after gray
fox eggs.
Who cant write reminiscent poctryf Boy
hood days! Poetry. Csstoria, milk bills,
water colors, sponge cakes that drop of the
table and 60 crashing through the floors,
pound cakcs-30 ozs. to the pound Prosel
well Monte, how far have you gone"
How far silly! Do you think am at the
ninth book Of the sixth cantor No, have
made no verses yet, just cleaning up the
bones In the backyard Of my memory. Max.
ing skeleton as il were. am going 10
begin now.
Papa here comes young panther, get
your gun and shoot HIM from behind this
chair"
When was young and still very little,
I used to drink out Of my mothers tea.
kittle.
"Monie you wouldn't think of sending
that; why Horace could do better than that"
What Why In my day could drink ket
ties and kettles where the boys Of today
can't drink half pints.
But il has no merit, none of The subtle
charm. the fidelity to nature"
Bother nature, 1t has the fact, 1t has
Frank don't bother papa, he is writing
poetry. and poetry is hard to write"
We'll then shall:,ry something else, some.
thing epic. something with Homer-Pope
favor with Boy McAfee for Achilles, Tom
Davis for Ajax and Lucas in charge OF the
lightning. Bob Patterson would do for
Hector, Eph. Nash for Paris and the scene
not tar from Jones mill.
The swampcrs love gin, the direfu spring
OF woes unnumbered heavenly goddess sing,
That wrath which strewed along the road
All who could not stand beneath their load,
Whose limbs. inanimate. upon . foreign
shore
Refused to bulge, until some wagon passing
DER,
To partial sense, restored their battered
trunk,
And made it plain to them, they had been
drunk.
Note.-Davis and Lucas figure only in the
last book where the former IS slam with q
rotten apple by a great warrior named Crazy
Ned, and Lucas escapes starvation by very
close shave.
There, how ia that for poetry, Madam?
"Surely that isn't reminiscent-purely
personal, actual"
No but i, deals with events that actually
happened and it
well III tell you 1t is epic, real epicsc
poetry, but should not eend 1t. Why don't
you write about how you felt when Mr..
Landers used to make you 81, beside Emma
NORMAN, and about the joyous time you had
left at noon for play when you had served
out an inverted panel Of rail fence in half.
hour safer your namei"
All! remember
"Why, not that"
remember, remember
The house where was born,
The little bed In which slept
From dewy eve till morn,
And when at seven my mother called
TO come TO breakfast then.
felt as though I'd rather wait,
Till eight, Or nine, or ten.
remember. remember,
The roses red and white.
My little brother Charlie,
And how we used 10 fight.
We'd scrap about the smallest things
Throughout the llvelong day,
This now. we'll remember
Though years have passed away.
remember, l remember,
Where was used to swing,
And certain il went up high
I'd sicken from the thing,
To run beneath the eeat and give
MY glrl push up high,
Is one among thousand joys
I'll remember till die.
rene mber. remember,
The FIR trees dark and high,
In which the very crows nest
Was my delight to spy.
1t is an oft remembered thought,
In which take much joy,
Instead of being born girl
That was born boy.
F. l.. W.. Salem, Ore.
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