The Republican journal., 1898-06-02
Rhymes of Reform.


"A 4 oeC u inc feOple VINO was Dorh Ill Mdiic'
The Minneapolis Progress recently pub
lished a sketch, and portrait of Odell
Truando Fellows of Pasadena, California,
with selections from his poems. Mr..
Fellows was born on farm in Lincoln,
Penobscot Co., Maine, May 10, 1857. He
was educated in the common country
schools, which he attended winters only,
after he was large enough to work on the
farm during summers; and unfortunately
was deprived Of the advantages of a
collegiate training. His parents, as we
understand, were plain, practical and
provident farmer folk. When seventeen
years old, he began to teach in country
schools during winter sessions; later, in
1880, he attended the State Normal school
at Castine for one season, and also served
on the school committee of Lincoln, and
in 1881 was elected supervisor of schools
of the same town. For several years, he
was an active member of the Grange
and served as Master for three years,
during which he was twice chosen as dele
gate to the State Grange.
In July 1888, his father died, and the
home was broken up; and in the autumn
of that year he removed to Minneapolis,
Mimi, and secured position as assistant
teacher in Archibald Business College
still fourishing observation-disclosures at
the same time, scholarship in the short
hand and typewriting department. This
afterward formed his chief employment
for seven years in the railroad offices of
the NJ. & st. l.. and G. M. & St. p. at
Minneapolis.
In December, 1886, Mr.. Fellows was
married to Miss Irene E. Harkins. a
daughter of Capt. Henry Harkins of All
wapee, Wis. One child-a grl-was born
to them in May, 1888, but died in infancy.
In the fall of 1892, close application to
long continued office work having serious
| ly affected his health, and his wife being
too delicate to longer endure the rigorous
winters of Minnesota, he abandoned his
| position, and went to California, and is
now resident of Pasadena.
| Mr.. Fellows began to write verses when
mere boy at school, and has written
| poems, at intervals, as a pastime, ever
since. His etfusions have been contribut-
ed to various periodicals East and West
| All his work is above mediocrity and
much of it evinces the inspiration of the
genuine poet. Evidence of hasty com
position and a lack OF close analysis are to
be found in some of his truest-truest be-
cause most beautiful-and melodious
| lyrics. Under the title of "Rhymes of
Reform he has published a volume con-
tanning thirty short poems-not all literal
ly on the subject of ACKNOWLEDGEMENT it
to his mother, Sarah Palmer Weld. We
quote two specimens of his verse:
| REACH Me YOUR HAND.
Reach me your hand, down from the heights
serene,
Where you, to-day secure and smiling
stand;
While winds blow cold and night comes
Ger the scene,
Through shadows dark and yawning gulf be-
tween
Reach me your hand.
Reach me your hand, when hope is almost
gone;
I've wandered far across ife's desert sand
But now to see you in the glorious dawn
Away to turn and sadly journey on
Reach me your hand.
Reach me your hand L can not wander far.
For here the light is flooding al the land ;
While otherwhere the deepening shadows
And hopeless night-a night without star,
Reach me your hand.
Reach me your hand, | will not 90 away.
III climb the heights my longing eyes
have scanned,
No more through rough and devious paths
to stray,
A md while 1--WE wait to greet the coming
day
Reach me your hand.
Reach me your hand, the light is come at
The hills of morn, by freshening breezes
famed,
Rejoice together, Night and gloom are past
Behold the day! The day is coming fast
Reach me your hand.
OUR CASTLE IN SPAIN
IL the glorious time of our youthful prime
When unknown was the shadow of pain
A nd the world was ours with its birds and
flowers
We builded our castle in Spain
HE walls they were Jasper, the towers We're
gold,
The windows looked over the sea:
But alas Those windows are dark and cold
And cold and dark shall they be-
No fire is alight on the hearth at night,
No music is heard in the hail.
w nile the spectral trees as they sway in
the breeze
Are tapping at window and wall;
And bleak desolation is reigning supreme
Where gladness did only abide
For no one can live in this PLACED it would
seem
Since the lord of the castle had died.
Yes, died long ago in the night of my woe
When they bore young bride from the
door,
And my body with hers is at rest meath
the frs
On the cliff of the storm beaten shore
But, at night when the moon rising over
the glen,
Looks in at the desolate pane
There are strange sights and sounds, for we
wander again
Through the halls of our castle in Spain.
q
Bears the 1The Kind You Have Always Bought
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