The daily journal. (Salem, Or.) 1899-1903, 1899-07-11
THE GENH OF THE FLASK.

One dark and dreary winters day,
In times that long have passed away
Portland, a scrawny village, stood
Knee-deep in pristine seas Of mud,
With blackened stumps along the street
The frightened traveller 10 greet,
And, back Of all, the frs, deep-massed
That moaned and whispered rs he
passed.
The pale, ow-wheeling, spectral sun
It's weary course had almost run,
But not a tint of sunset light
Signaled the town a fair goodnight. "
A heavy mist Of mournful gray
Upon Willamette's bosom lay,
And all was silence and despair
Save on the single thoroughfare
Where at some Bacchanalian fame
The glasses clinked a merry strain;
For IL was New Years eve and all
The world was holding carnival.
Then up from that one CLEAN of life
Where men, Injured 10 toll and strife,
Made merry on the gracious eve,
When all Of cark and care take leave,
A lpale and silent man was seen
81, too" he said, "must e'en ask leave
To have once more my New Years eve,
And Death shall be the toast I'll drink
While lowering on the wild CULTS
brink"
His eyes began 10 CLEAN and gloat,
And from his threadbare overcoat
lie drew heavy flask OF liquor,
Which in the freight seemed 10 flicker
With myriad strange and joyous lights,
The promise Of untold delights,
Delights that fill the souls that come
Into the blessed Elysium.
lie drank, drank deep, and sat him
down
His solitary hearth beside,
And then upou his pallid face
You could with slight discernment
trace
The purpose Of the suicide
Who drank his lingering fears 10 drown.
All, well, sometimes we hardly blame
The actors in the deed OF shame,
And thus his story soon is told
lie loved, as only such men love,
One whom he prized his soul above;
But poverty, with iron arm,
Thrust back affection overwarm,
And 80 at'last, hero bold,
lie sought the West for needed gold.
Twas after wand rings wild and drear
One smiling summer found him here !;
And lands he bought and settled down
To be the monarch of the town,
Which hardly was in embryo then,
The rugged camp OF fearless men.
All was invested but in vain
lie watched for fortunes shining vain
Through weary years until the light
or hope went out and all was night.
lie drank until he slept at last.
To make his own election sure.
The years rolled on, the city grew,
Slowly but on foundation true,
And to our hero is IL strange
Also should come with years a changer
Alack, IL was all for 1be worse-
That magic flask became his curse.
II was his savior, 80 he thought,
And unto him the angel brought,
And 80 he worshipped IL too well
And into hopeless ruin fell,
Again 'tis happy New Years Eve
When men OF cark and care take leave,
And one whom we have cause 10 know
Sits in the trelight's fitful glow,
The very presence Of despair,
From broken boots 10 tangled hair.
Hard drink has done il and his lands
Long since have gone 10 other hands
But he has filled the flask once more
And has a dreary hope somehow
The angel Of the shining brow
Will come as on the time before.
lie sleeps at last, and wakes 10 see
A horror and a mystery;
It's Orcus, now without mask,
Arising from that fateiul flask,
An awful shape-nO words can paint
The terror of the fallen saint.
81 am your angel now" he cries
'' Your other friend is in the skies.
Then with a mocking laugh and low
Aud in swirl OF azure flame
lie sought the awful realms below
For which We have no fitting name.
The doomed one sleeps again, the day
Looks in upon him, cold and gray,
And yet he wakes not, all is DER
A prophets tongue cOuld say no more