The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1899-01-08
roE1rs KonTn REap1Ne.


POEMS WORTH READING.
--
senoe I Como Back from Dawson.
ssncsI come back from Dawson 10 these old. familiai
scenes.
rye read the ysller journals an the ten-csnt maya
ZINES.
An to sort o. classify events an md out what 90
While l was hibernatin' whore the light of God wal
blurred,
I've been sesrchin' through the nles Of the daily
pioture-press
To see II l could ascertain or formulate = guess
Why the scrbblers who last autumn so artistically
lied
Bout the riches Of the Klondike concluded 10
subside.
Then every trail was occupied by journalistic beats
Who represented with aim cards) all sahron-tinted
From Seattle to Savannah an from Bangor 10
Duluth.
But nary one of them was there 10 represent the
truth.
They stumbled up the ohiikoot an iostod along the
lakes,
An when not autobiography things or wrtin' up
their fakes,
Imbibed raw rum from Hudson Bay an dressed In
CONN suits,
Stood round an told old.timcrs bout the shortest
Klondike roots.
Now Two gathered from my roadin' that the reason
why they quit
writin' lies about the Klondike was, ~ lawyers say.
10 wit:
HAvin' placed us in cold storage an done all the
harm they could.
They felt a awful cravin' for . brand Of booze
that's good,
An left at once to sponge IL. an unable 10 refrain
From causin' people trouble. they arranged . war
with Spain.
An to properly conduct the same. rushed bravsly 70
the front
An led all the gallant charges an bore the battiss'
brunt.
Now. while us Klondike refugees most groovunly
deplore
Tho mournful fact so few of them passed to the
other shore.
Our grief is curtailed by the thought which puno-
tuates our sobs,
That some Of them who wore not killed have lately
lost their jobs.
An sence my feelin's is aroused. some words I've
got to say
About the highly lucrative but lowly sinful way
The experts an perfessers told the things they didn't
A-setttn' in warm rooms at home) about the realm
Of snow.
OF all their stories I have read. the worst about that
far land
Was written by a man whose brow has long worn
Fiction's garland.
Who in the "Kiondike Number" OF q wellknown
magazine
Told of the sylvan beauties Of some trails he'd mover
seen,
With purlin' brooks an wild delights an picnics
everywhere
CThings that exist in poetS' DRAINS. but don't exist
mp there).
Then followed in the steps of them he'd so cruelty
misled.
To write about the scenery and enumerate the dead.
Mayhap u will seem that I've assumed . gay an
hippant air.
But while I'm settin' hero tonight ghost stands by
my chair.
Again 1 see a famished form stretched meath .
sombre sky,
Again l fold the shrivolled hands an close the death.
glazed eye;
1 see the horrors Falsehood wrought. an hear again
the wall
OF its victim as he persisted on . panoramic trail.
Whore his bleached an badly scattered bones Is all
that's left to tell
How he battled with the terrors OF a thousand miles
of hell.
Now. as I amt no statesman. I can't hcrer what
well gain
Through this unexpected legacy of trouble from old
Spain;
But as a unkissed hero from the barren Yukon Flats.
1 earnestly petition our distinguished diplomats:
In your G. d-directed efforts to emancipate mankind.
Don't forget your helpless brothers in our Arctic
wilds confined.
But in your worldwide reach for liberty. to rghtnn'
justice true.
Extend a helpin' hand to them. an annex Alaska.
too. SAM c. DUSHAM.