The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1903-04-23

| with her friends from East Twenty-sixth
street at eleven O'Clock at night, but WHEN
| the women start in to talk in the halls
and then the babies open up-genius. says
| l, has no show in Harlem. / had the
sentiment in me all right, but they have
| driven the iron into my soul. Now l be-
! gan this gem correct and proper
THE DELIRIIJM OF LOVE.
''Oh. my love rides by
| On a cream white Steed,
And my heart doth sigh
She is fair indeed!
Then two women stop on the land
| ing just in front of my door and talk
| about a bargain sale on Third avenue.
1 am troubled slightly with the fantoids,
| but dash off the second verse like this:
''Oh, my heart gets drunk
On her smile divine,
And it goes piink-plunk
On these ribs of mine.
Not so awful bad. Ell? But still not up
TO the high standard of the first verse.
| Then two more women gather on the
| landing. They swap recipes how to make
pomade out of ducks liver. And one
tells gleefully how she evaded the fire
inspector by stretching out the baby's
wash on the fire escape. The willies are
creeping over me rapidly, but that poem
muse be finished. This is what 1 did, and
il was my finish
But swift and harassed
AS that steed may be,
1t can't kite SO fast
But my hearts with she.
There are always people. you know.
who would pull Arts temple down. Some
OF the critics sneered at my effusion. The
idea of my love riding on a cream white
steed rather took the milk sop reviewers,
ad that thought about my heart signing
was little high for some of them, but
when they got down to that part where
l unmarked that my heart was drunk
they winked and said that was all right
maybe it was my heart. Then. when they
reached that line about the steed being
harassed they were mean enough TO in
sinuate that thegirl was pounding the
everlasting life out of the horse so as to
get away from me. OF course 1 didn't
mean 1t thae way, but how is one TO keep
duck livers and fire escapes away from
poetry? One critic viii had tried to write
poetry himself and failed said the last
line wasn't grammatical. / didn't care
for that, though for l simply threw my
self back on my poetical license, having
no other
Smithers sighed.
But the worst happened when I took to
writing poetry to order" he continued.
"One day Jones. my neighbor came in
his baby that had died. Then a man came
in and wanted a comic valentine for his
mother-in- law. Another customer gave
big order for a descriptive poem on a new
sausage machine, that took the hog right
off its feet in the pen and turned IL out
quicker than you could wink into link
sausage. The man said he wanted some
thing with action to it, so he could IL
for an advertisement. After him came the
a hi
been married. Guess you must have seen
her picture in the Harlem News in the
afternon papers. 1t was to be a swagger
welding, and the old man wanted full
description of the trousseau. the guests.
the wedding march and everything all
in beautiful verse 1t would have been all
right if the babies in the house hadn't
all started UP in chorus. confess 1 got
little nervous. The men who had or
dered the poetry all came at once, and the
paper was hot when I handed the verses
out to them. Jones stuff on the dead
baby got mixed up with the mother-in-law
valentine like this
Baby Jones has up and died
Souls across the river.
Ha! Ha! Hai-my nlirth I hide
Died from eating liver
This is what I did for the mother-in-
law
w mere er she speaks my soul she thrills, |
My heart with loving thoughts she fills;
fluttering of angels wings
Her rustling feet unto me brings.
oh. fairest vision eer l saw
My heart is thine, sweet mother-in-law.
II might have fixed it with these two. |
l might even have squared myself with |
the sausage machine man when l handed |
him the verses describing the hog that his |
machine was killing and dressing into /
as a dream of a bride but when |
1t came to mixing up the hog verses on /
the man whose daughter had the swagger !
that was stretching IL a little /
too far. This is what 1 turned over TO the /
father of the blushng BRIDE
With orange blooms and bIossome gay
The happy couple lead the way,
And mid the peals of organ grand
BY holy altar take their stand
The bride-sh, smiling is her face;
All rich her gown; ah. rare her grace!
She bushes-ah. then in trice
A butcher man. with griplike vice.
Grabs the fat pig by the hind feet
To soon be turned to tothsome meat.
One look the bride casts at the groom
And then the white hog meets its dom,
And in a twinkling it is ground
into link sausS ge-ten pound.
and, as ali take the fathers hand.
They say The wedding, sir. was grand
A man may open a blacksmith shop
y even run boiler emporium success
ully in a Harlem fat" added Srnithers
Il that sad way Of his. but ne can't write
poetry with the finished touch OF genius
But jeremiah Smithsrs IS in a padded
ell now. He may be biased.-Frederick