Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1906-07-18
The Intensely Practical Poet.
BY :. LOUIS. ENGDAHL.

NOW, II you could only Write po-
etry."
Poetry bel beg your pardon, but
do you know that think you are very
foolish?" and Harry Furber shrugged
his shoulders. jabbed his hands into
his pockets, and thought the question
decided. :,
Il wish I could get you to appreciate
the artistic. 1t Is great thing to
love art" :.
MY goodness. love you, and that
is enough for me. I can go to the
theater and pick a good play every
time see one. At the exhibit, can
admire the best pictures. like beau
tifui singing. l can read good story
or good book, but poetry-and you
now want me to write some.'
"You are too intensely practical"
And you don't like intensely prac-
teal reople?"
''They are very nice to have around"
''Then l may come around as usual,
you won't deny NE that?"
''Oh, no; you are always welcome"
Then Furber took his leave. AS he
went down the steps of the Koessler
mansion, he met Robert Phelan, but
he did not look at him. Phalan was
a poet.
They had been at Harvard togeth-
er. Both had very indulgent fathers.
Phelan had written poetry for the
Monthly" and in his senior year had
been chosen to be its literary editor.
After graduating he had still continued
70 write poetry, and once his contr1bu-
ton had beer accepted by an eastern
magazine.
F'urber had been little Of every
thing in college, and in the end had
turned out to be not much of anything.
He hal made many friends, had a good
time, managed to get diploma, and,
he asked: What more could anyone
want?" Immediately after graduation,
Furber, the elder, had taken his son
into his Office, intent on teaching him
the grain business. Furber was a
name much known on change in Chi
cago. Harry Furber was appointed to
be one Of the representatives of the
firm in the pit, and he had soon
learned to bid in on the wheat with the
best OF them.
But Ruth Koessler was his stumbling
block, and Phelan, the poet, was the
hard thing he bumped against every
time he stumbled Together, Furber
and Phelan had begun to call upon
Ruth. Ruth said she liked both of
them, but she had gradually devel-
oped sense for the artistic, and Fur
Der was not artistic, but Phelan was
q poet, and SO he must be artistic. He
could talk all about ancient Greece and
Rome, and could quote much from the
classics.
Furber knew the original source of
these lectures, and although he liked
to hear Ruth talk, he would not stand
for anything that came from his rival.
And now she wanted him to write po-
etry.
It was the middle of the forenoon,
and things had quieted down in the
pit The market was holding steady,
and Furber was wondering what eff
feet the war in the east would have
on the years crop.
He walked up out of the pit and sat
down in chair away from the rest
of the crowd. He was thinking of Ruth
again. He sat and thought of the
talk they had had the day before.
Then a smile something akin to the
kind he wore when he had done some
thing very we'll, stole across his face.
He pulled q pad of paper from his
pocket, and for half an hour he seemed
to be struggling with something in his
mind, once in awhile writing down
something, and the men in the pit
| continued to loaf and talk automobiles,
and prices in wheat still held steady.
Then, when the half hour was up
| he smiled again, reread what he had
written, and then looked about him.
'Hello, there, Ripley!" he called.
II have got a scheme" Furber said
II went you to get up there in the
pit anG introduce me as the great and
only you understand. Then I will
get up and speak my piece"
"All right" and Ripley went over
to a long, inclosed desk, where several
men were writing, and spoke few
wards to them. Then he came back to
the. pit and took position where he
| could be heard by all.
Gentlemen" he said, II am about tc
Introduce to you our far-famed, great
and only illustrious friend and co.
worker, Furber, the poet" and Rip.
ley stopped to get his breath, and
everyone applauded.
HE has composed poem in your
honor-your honor, I say, the honor Of
all OF u.s. and he stopped again, and
there was some more cheering.
Nov, gentlemen, want you to give
your best attention. The show begins
right away"
A chair was brought, and Furber
with the sheet of paper In one hand
got up into it, blushing like a little
girl making her first appearance at 9
Sunday-School Christmas tree. Then
he began:
There's a bull upon the market.
And the bear is waxing hot;
In the East the Japs are fighting,
In the wheat the rust is out;
So the bear is waxing hot.
Observation-Disclosures
| Batch Wa,