Las Vegas daily optic. [volume] (Las Vegas, N.M.) 1880-1908, 1903-04-02
IN SONG mi STORY.
Characteristic Letter From Capt.
Jack Crawford, New Mexico's
P~oet-scout:

| PUSS CLUB, N. Y, March %, 1903.
Dear old friend of long ago
When boys were we together
| Boys n men in New Mexico,
Hearts aflame INT souls aglow
Throughout the changeful weather.
God! Lafe, how my heart dances
| and how my soul expands as memory
brings me back along the rustic rug
ged tints of those early days-when
you and | and Lutte imagined that
I'VE had the world by the tail and a
pull down HILL"
And a cinch on the empire star,
| And you were to hum in
dom,
And I was q sinnew of war.
| But forgetting the past with its p
and downs and rugged bouts, and
reaching forth into the better and
brighter future, salute you as 1
would my old commander, and recall
the many kindly words of cheer and
encouragement which came from your
lips and pen, and l set me down to
tell o briefly, for you will be glao
to know" that in this world of evolu-
ton and change that for me 1t is
forward n upward, and has been for,
low these many years, despite the au-
tomato elements and influences that
exist, and wage war skilfully and
persistently n often are the victoA
ries Then right is routed, man ruined,
God defeated, and robbed of His own.
But there is no power on earth or in
hell that can uprOOt or destroy single
minded and manly perseverance
if rooted n grounded in the soil Of
Honest Labor-cOurageOus battle and
| persistent endeavor. l am only just
awakening to the full realization Of
these facts. Not because of any ex-
traordinary or courageous effort in my
part-just the reverse. l have been
a weakling possessed OF a God given
power, genius some call it, to sway
humanity and do a world of good. I
have been miserably weak, indOlent
and cowardly, partly because l feared
criticism and that l would be called
an egotist. To illustrate in one OF my
entertainments in a large city l once
| said:
MY poetry is original-at least it
is aboriginal The gentle muse has
furnished but a choice few of us with
a license to manufacture such poetry.
very much doubt if Byron, Burns,
Whittier, or even Shakespeare, ever
wrote such poetry"
A newspaper reporter who IN anoth-
II II COlullu I'll Tic SdmC paper WAS
booming a dime novel fake here said
his bump of self esteem must be
enormous" In speaking of his own
poetry he said: byron, Burns, Whit
tier, even Shakespeare, never wrote
such poetry as / did" Thus / was
instantly criticised. While the report
er who did it was enjoying a banquet
and a drunk at the expense of q Bum
cumb manager. However, the time has
passed when l shall be disturbed by
such triles. I am now before the
people and the people are all right and
know how to discriminate.
have just signed a forty weeks
contract beginning Nov. LIST, which
gives me $4,000 over and above all
expenses, and that talks louder than
any fake newspaper criticism. and that
is really n truly all l intended to
say when l sat Town. l will enclose
some recent letters and criticisms OF
my work, together with my poem. III
| But Could with new verses added
and l believe unpublished-to Helen
Gould and May Cody-Bradford, "Buf-
falo Bills" sister. So l will close
with a verse or w to April
The budding month of gladness
That bids goodby to sadness;
That comes with girlish laughter IN
the spring.
The month of milk and honey,
When the soul feels sweet and sun
ny,
When all agencies of God and nature
. sing, Glorious Spring!
This verse was not practically start
ed. nor did l realize it was in rhyme
until the second line was written, Ii
you use it live it up; will try another
lined up:
To The Goddess Of Spring.
A Song.
Fair goddess of Spring, hallelujah,
Awake from thy slumber so deep
The birds on the wing are just wait
ing to sing
When the buds from thy bosom
shall peep.
Hallelujah for flowers that come after
And fruits that must follow the
flames;
While sounds Of thy sweet girlist
Will echo through daisy-decked
bowers.
Chorus:
Then hurrah! for the spring!
When all nature will sing
And hurrah for the God-given flowers
Breathing life into death
With the sweet balmy breath,
That decks our fair garden with
flowers.
Fair goddess of spring . hallelujah
Start a growth of new sprouts II
our souls;
With thoughts pure and good, of
purpose,
That will steady us over life's shoals
Oh God, of our goddess, be near us
Initiate us with strength from above
Il I OF nyyr rnindc concentrate tfi1 MI,
souls will vibrate
With the echoes of Love, Love
Love.
| Chorus, etc.
Perhaps there is a composer In New
Mexico who can fix up an air to this
little impromptu. I am a member Of
the Press Club and the boys are
mighty kind to me, and that whole
souled, jovial, genius, Allen Foreman
of the Journalist, ley tires Of saying
things about your old poet-scout.
am not losing sight or interest In thu
sunshine state and hope to surprise
you in a pleasant n in the worl
| am doing towards her future great
ness. My trip to Florida has convinc
ed me that nowhere on earth Is there
a land like our W dear old cactus
bosomed, sun-kissed southwest, destin
ed TO be the worlds health restorer
l enclose Journalists with q laugh
!, ing picture of Capt. Jack. Same o.
the one in the New York Herald O
Nov. 81. when Maj--Gen. Chaffee ant
his broncho cou got a whole pag'
write-up. This picture has causet
: considerable comment. It was takeI
without my knowledge and could no
have been posed for.
/ will close with a verse suggested
by this open-faced picture:
The devil has fun with the son-of-a
gun
That bawls like q motherless calf
But the devil will yell and back Il
his s-he