The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1901-03-21

Very suggestive little thing -julaceous
Perhaps you may wish to indite
love ditty to your best girl. Let me
say here that nothing appeals to a
young lady like poetry, so concentrate
your thoughts and bring into focus all
those sweet expressions ever rising in
your heart and start off thus:
Oh my darling fuzzy wuzzy,
My sweetest little toots;
loves 90 yes doesy,
Oh you can bet your boots.
Oh it's julaceous! Such a poem will
either make her worship you or kick
your head off; the latter in all prob
ability.
Years ago when L was about large
enough to wrestle with hoppergrass,
[ had sweetheart, little Dutch girl
named Sallie very nice little girl
with big, brown eyes. But that is as
far as her beauty went, for she was as
bowIegged as hoop is round. She
lived across the street from our house
and went to the same school, sat right
across from me- 1 used to write love
poems on my slate and slip them over
to her. 1t was easy enough to write
poems but for one thing, that was them
doggone bowlegs 1 could get no
rhyme but beer kegs or shoe pegs, and
when | did write about them she'd get
fighting mad over it, which was very
unreasonable, for she had 'em and l
had to put them in my verse. l re-
member one poem [ wrote that ended
our friendship of two whole days, for
she got mad at one verse and nearly
scratched my eyes out. Itwas this:
o tell me what is round and round
And round like old beer kegs:
l can't think of nothing else
But Sallie rs bowlegs.
She would not speak 20 me, but stood
over in her yard sticking out her
tongue and making faces at me while
I sat on our gate post following "Old
boWlegs' at her and ready to jump
down in our yard and run it she came,
for she would fight like the dickens.
But this is off the subject
Now for the kind OF poetry-the kind
Browning wrote. | used to call it
obscure. Not Browning; but his poetry,
because | never found two people who
could agree on what he meant. Brown
ing was first introduced to me by a
pair of spectacles with young lady
behind them. The poem was Inferno
or Solferino or something like that,
and my young lady deyotee explained
all about the heXOmeters, dynOmeters
and all the other meters, and read the
poem to me. / didn't understand
darn bit Of il, but the way the sonorous
lines poured from her rosy lips fasci-
mated me, and after she finished she
asked MY opinion. Before replying l
reached over and stole kiss and then
said, "Oh it was julaceous." l meant
the kiss. But she got in huff over it
and thus broke up our readings, very
unreasonable, I think. 1 cannot re-
member the words of that poem; but
as far as sense went in my case they
went about like this:
Wiggle, waggle Bramahpoorra.
Jiggle, jaggle, jam;
HOckmO, ROckmO, Kamchatka,
Ta-ra-bOom hoop-la damn.
Now whether tfis verse is susceptible
of digestion by any one except the
author is matter that will bear dis
cussion, and chances are he'll get the
bellyache. But years of experience
have taught me that the less people
understand you, the greater poet you
become. So it matters little what you
write
| Now after you have become famous
you will most likely be called upon for
readings from your works, and it be-
hooves you to know your audience, for
should you attempt to deliver selection
of the Browning type before an audience
of the so-called lower classes, it would
be advisable to carry along an armour