The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1900-07-29
I'M THE LITERARY WORLD.
SOME OF THE VERSES OF THE DAY.

SOME OF THE VERSES OF THE DAY.
This cannot be called very noteworthy
poetical era. Except for the very strik-
ing output of patriotic poems for liberty
against Imperialism, no book OF verse OF
any considerable Importance has been
published for long WHILE nor is there
much sign in the magazines, where poetry
should be welcome, of any such matter.
This is in large des Gree due to the mag
azines thmselves; for, with the sole ex
ception of the Atlantic Monthly, they do
not want anything but trivialities. The
newspapers, though they are not over
rich in poetical quality, nevertheless pub
lish almost all the verse that has any
character at all. The volume of poetry
published in The Republican for the past
two or three years is far superior to that
which has appeared in the magazines in
the same time. So a few other news
papers, like the Boston Transcript, the
Boston Pilot, the Atlanta Constitution,
the Hartford Times,-one would add the
San Francisco Argonaut, save that it's
poems are almost always simply reprints.
Its literary taste is so fine that one wen
ders that it does not draw to itself
original contributions. Books of verse
continue to be uttered by publishers
the author himself turns peddler he can
not hope to sell his verses. 1t is a symp
tom of a materialfstic age that poetry de-
clines; it waits for people or a society
to find that it has soul. The soul is
minimized when the chief object in view
is a commercial one, and wars are waged
for it, and freedom and the rights of man
are scorned
A
an ode by William Vincent Byars, st.
Louis newspaper man, whose excellent
writings on current issues we have often
had occasion to quote. 1t is published by
the Tennessee society of st. Louis, hav-
ing been delivered before that society. 1t
is truly poem, as this passage bears
Witness
To own no man as lord or king;
TO boast no lordship, rule no slave
What higher rank could freeman crave?
What nobler gift could fortune bring?
So standing discrowned with our dead
Made potent by their sacrifice,
With unbowed neck, with level eyes,
We say this as our last word said
That he who cheats for power or place,
Who wrongs the weakest of his race
With lifted hand and threatened blow
Is every Tennesseean's foe!
Who boasts his freedom to Cypress,
Who makes his fellow-man the less,
That greater his own pride may be-
Call him not son of Tennessee,
But recreant stepson, put to shame.
BY all that gloriies the name,
OF rebel, since the glorious hour
When Englands proud imperial power
Failed on Kings Mountains fatal height
Before soft touch and steady sight
OF rifemen whose homespun worth
Changed there the destiny of earth,
And once again at New Orleans
Showed every age what manhood means.
And further on AZ
Love makes the hero! for from hate
Comes but the satrap, the brigand,
The despot of some subject land,
The strutting pgmy of the hour
At whom hell laughs when in it's power,
He forces slaves to bend their knees
The small, singed, puny imps to please
Whose whims Internal aye control
The thing a tyrant calls his SOUL
Howell Stroud England has such conf
dence in his muse that in publishing
'Shots at Random" through the J. S.
Oglve publishing company, of New York,
he says in his "prolog":-
Go, little songs, go forth upon the earth,
Too long I've kept you, idly boarded
here,
10! we are jewels of exceeding worth,
Go forth in confidence and not in fear. |
But he considers the possibility that the
age may prove too mammon- maddened
for your words to teach; in this case he
says
Then rest we in this confidence sublime,
Ye are immortal, We can bide your time.
Yet upon surveying these little songs"
we do not feel inclined to modify the as
sertion that the poets are all against
imperialism. For example, here's a
stanza:-
Then come, John Bull, we'll take your
hand and round the world We'll go,
The blessings of our freedom on the ma
lions to bestow,
Well civilize and ChristianiZe and utilize
the earth,
Unto ourselves reserving what we think
the teachings worth,
And wheresoe'er upon the seas the fleets
of commerce ride
'Old Glory and the Union Jack" shall
triumph side by side,
And mankind in many colors shall arise
and bless his day,
For the Saxons in the saddle, and he's |
there to stay!
But it would be unfair to Mr. England |
to present this as a sample of his best |
There is the ballad of "Simon Cranston," |
the Friend who married amiss,-that is |
simple and good He is at his best in the |
midst of the Friends, to whom he has no |
doubt belonged. though apparently no lon
ger. Verses addressed to Jesus are ex-
cellent as thought, though not very poetic; |
as witness this stanZa:-
Hail, gentle Jesus. teacher, brother hail, |
The world is better for thy having been; |
Theologies arise and thrive and fall
Thy truth remains eternal Men have |
seen
None other like to thee! Our eyes, though |
dim,
Now know the Father, and can follow |
Him.
There is scarcely the warrant of immor-
tally in such verses as these, ant Mr.
England may be most kindly said to have |
overrated himself
Elizabeth G. Crane, author of enc re-
markable book, "Berquin," publishes |
through the A. D. F. Randolph Company, |
New York volume of verse entitled |