The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1905-11-05
WW r THIN the past few months
A{AY several poems by FlOYd ID.

wv T THIN the past few months
i W. several poems by Floyd D..
w Raze of Kindred, N. D., have
appeared in the book department. OF
II b e journal. The editor has &C,
scepted theln because they interested
him and he thought they would lnIeresI
others as well. There has been nothing
of the esoteric about them. Their
meaning has always been clear and
their movement musical. Often they
have suggested Burns, which is not sur
prising In view of the fact that Mr.
Rae IS an ardent admirer of the Scotch
bard. Usually, however, Mr.. Raze IS
at his best in half reminiscential, half
humorous poems that take one back to
boyhood and it's joys and sorrows One u,
of his latest things of this kind is 1.-The
Little School, which he has sent to
The Journal. Here it is, and few
whose schooldays date back twenty
years or little more will fail to appre-
ciate it and find pleasant memories
awakening under it's spell:
/ well remember long ago F.
The little school that stood ..>a.. .-s. .,
Just where the roadway bends around
A little patch of wood;
= And I remember too the bench -..... 49,.
Along the inner wall
ge BY which we used to stand to read,
"Leaves have their time to fall" !.
There oft I've stood with open book
And half abated breath.
To gallon with the Light Brigade;
'Into the jaws of DEATH
Or surging DER hill and dale
With pendulum-like sway,
took the road with Sheridan
Full twenty miles away.
Fen now thru all this lapse Of time
- l still remember well
The sound of Freedoms dying shrek
Gas kosciusko fell,''
q And pause again to wipe away
The sympa thetic tears
For 1.-THE soldier Of the legion
That ''lay dying in Algiers.'
still can see just as Of old
The sights at watkins Glen"
Tho thirty years of wandering IRE
Have passed and gone since then
All, can it be so long ago?
How swift the years have sped
Since, lin his dark, carved, oaken chair
Old Rudiger sat- dead!
From that old bench I've wandered thru
And heard those far-off "Shandon bells'
Fling out their joyous chime;
And oft I've paused beside the spring
To drink, then ride away
While sweet Maud Muller unused and sighed
Till rain fell the hay.
These Joys 1t gave; yet from that place
I've searched the wide world Ger
For some secluded spot ION earth
Where mortals weep no more;
Some lone and pleasant dell,
Some valley In the west
Where free from toll and pain
The weary soul may rest
Aye, many weary day since then,
Thru varying heat and frost,
I've held my SOLITARY way,
Lone, wandering, but not lost
For I have stilt in memory
The little school that stood
Just where the roadway bends around
A little patch of wood.
The announcement, recently made
that the "Auld Brig O. Ayr" was to be
torn down brought from Mr.. Rae the
following protest, written for Scotch
publication in the hope that he might
help to save the historic "brig':
Spare the "auld brig We Scottish men,
Look kindly its arches there,
Ere tits too late, ali, pause again,
Wreck not the good, "auld brig Of Ayr"
What centuries its arches hang;
And yet. thru all how we'll t has stood
Forbear to do "kennen wrang'-
The ''nu1d Brig has defed the nood
Defed the power O. wintry blast,
Stood like the hills the test of time,
And shall 1t fall by man at last?
All man, how prone to ruthless crime!