The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1905-06-04

1t is never easy to interview a poet, and
1t is doubly hard when that poet is Oliver
Herford OF ~The Rubaiyat Of a Persian Kit =
ten" fame, for Mr.. Herford must be found
before he can be interviewed, and finding
him is the work Of days.
When the woman did meet him it was
with this injunction still ringing in her
ears: Don't mention the word interview
to him. 1t will brighten the life out OF him.
just let him play around and get the story
in that way
you seem to be artist, poet and editor
combined" she began. Which career
did you int end for YOURSELF"
First he said, Il began illust rating
other peoples work. Stories, you know.
Somehow failed to get the right pict uree
for the stories. They refused to MT. so
had to take to doing the stories for my
illustrations myself
There was moment of silence.
Then nobody would buy the stories
had written for the illust rat IONS he fin
ished, $50 had to start a magazine myself
in order to get them published
your magazine is unique, the woman
hurried to console. ut is sort OF cross
bet ween life"
ana ueatn SdlQ All aItis' WIZ "eN'
witnessing the interview.
The poet collapsed and was still.
you are certainly original" she af-
firmed lightly, lin starting q magazine in
Coney Island. [Dredmldnd is the maya
zine.l 1t has never been done before
But isn't it a little over the heads Of the
people?"
The only thing that is over the heads OF
the Coney Island people is the surf said
the poet, and quieted down again
Have you noticed the prize we are offer
ing for an ending to the tailless prize story
Of Fagan?" he asked. Then to her reply
in the negative, Il should like you to see
it, but never allow copy Of my magazine
in the house, you know
where did you get the kitten for your
'Rubaiyat' Was it a pet ktten?' we're
the next questions.
Il drew the kitten from my memory OF
Kittens he replied, wrote the verses
and sold the book Then a friend gave
me the kitten to draw the pictures by.
The poet fiuttered about until the woman
was glad the windows were down or he
would have flown out.
u should like a picture OF you for this
interview" she ventured presently. for
getting. At the fatal word the poet stood
abruptly. then fluttered into the next room
and back again.
Il haven't picture Of myself, be said
'but here is picture of my sister
THAT will do" nodded. the woman, be-
ginning by now to get little frightened
on her own account and thinking 1t best
to humor him.
The next time he returned with book,
which he opened at the title page. "A
picture Of my father, he explained.
Would you like ono Of those, too, for
the interview"
If you please" returned the woman
politely, -and while you are about 1t, get
me a few Of your uncles and your cousins
and your aunts.
What do you consider your best poem,
your most serious poem?" questioned the
woman.
MY poem of The Hem he answered
readily. shall recite it to your" and he
struck an attitude and began in this wise:
Oh tell me, child; where Is ihe Pen
That can do justice TO the Hen
Like Royalty she goes her way
Laying foundations every day.
II not for public build ngs, yet
For .custard cake and omelctte.
OR II too old for such use
They have their fling al some abuse.
AS when 10 censure plays unft,
Soada he s snss w saey praIs sH the Hen
Whose egg Is mgh,'cr than tho Pen.
Good! exclaimed tho woman. 'and now
your most serious story
He grasped a cloth dachshund from the
hearth and placed 1t on the table by her.