The Washington herald., 1907-07-14
POETRY MILLS GRIND
HOt-term Symposium for the
Verse-makers.
PHILOSOPHER AND CRITIC TALK
Hearts Are Cold, Even II Weather Is
Warm-A Poem from Soldiers
Home-The Bare Limbs OF the Tree
and GeEtIemanIy Eg0tist Who
Finds Life Interesting.

Don't, please. take yourself so seri-
ousiy this hot weather" said the Philoso-
pher. as tanning himself Justify with a
leaf from a palm tree, he invaded the
sanctity of the Critics lair. He found
the Critic before pile Of MSS.
"Ah, Philosopher" ne cried. lis 1t you?
l have missed you this many moons. and
without your gentle cynicism have scarce
had heart TO go through the illusions OF
my friends. the Washington poets. The
heated term seems only TO spur them on
to greater efforts. Why Will people be
poets. my friendT'
You remember what Pope said: There
are, indeed. some advantages accruiag
from genius 10 poetry. and they are all
I can think Of; the agreeable power Of
self-amusement when a man is idle or
alone; the privilege Of being admitted into
the best company, and the freedom OF
saying as many careless things as other
people, without being so severely remark
C upon.
| YES, I recall IL. And 7 also remember
what John Sterling said, II seems so much
more to the purpose. No man Is so born
poet but that ne must need be regen-
| Grated into a poetic artist / would some
Of my contributors would mark that"
What verses have you to-day?" asked
the Philosopher.
"Oh. quite a lot. Here IS the first one:
DO YOU KNOW
Could you read the secrets Of a heart
And fathom It's depths.
! Would you call ne cold
| When you meet the spirit Of
Indiferenesi
Would JOG pass me b.
And shun me-
When you read the story Of lie
In which Is written
Guilt?
Would you pity me
/ II yCu knew
How have longed,
But longud in vain. for
FrieEdsi
All. MOI You do not know
/ You can never know,
The knowledge is net yours.
And my secret lies
Buried.
Helen Anderson.
"Ah," calculated the Philosopher, =
see no objection to that. That third line
seems. perhaps, a little daring this sort
Of weather. You wouldn't call me cold
would you-not when I am tanning Xix,
this? my more?"
"Of course. Now here IS one 1 wanted
treated with reverence. II was inspired
by the Jamestown Exposition
THE GOLDEN WEST
Prediction O, Empire.
On The Landing Of the First Settlers in virginia
April g 1871.
The barques are ready and the breeze
Blows fair Cor the western land
And there IS launched upon the seas
A bold and daring band
And % the west. the glowing west
They dauBtless steer their way;
For beyond the islands q the Blest
Their destined haTb0T lay.
Then freely blow. brave eastern wind.
BareIy 81 the Ustlng SAIL
Swiftly leave the land behind
And speed their way, brave eastern gale
At length the Wishcd-f0F lands In sight
And fUu appeared I'm view
Where Hampton's waters flashing bright
Enchaut the toiiwom crew.
And landed on the shore. they viewed
The vernal scenes around;
The valleys with bright flowers strcwed,
n The woods with ysriFFe crowned;
And IN their midst, with reyeTeut air.
An aged priest stood by.
Who offered mp a feryent prayer
; To God IL Heaven On high.
Then speaking with prophetic FIRE;
Here au Lhis shore" be cried
we plant the seed Of an empire
Whose bounds extended vide
Shall reach 70 the far distant MAN,
BY fearless Drake surveyed
Enhancing mountain, valley, plain
IL The Watry ways and leafy shade.
And here a nation viii arise
That shall be freedoms shield
In arts renowned, in council wise,
Aud mighty in she field;
Within lis bounds no seTf OF slave
For all have freedom there:
It's sons the bravest Of the brave.
Il Its daughters wond rous fair"
Copyrighted By William Mulleyy 1907, Soldiers
Home, Washington. d. c.
Not a bit bad, on my word" said tn
Philosopher; and by an old soldier, 900
Indeed, It is fine TO contemplate the live
Of the men who fought Sc bravely 10
their country, now in the Soldiers Home
a beautiful garden spot; the peace Of I
all such a contrast to the scenes through
which they have passed. The lives of mos
Of these men are living poems, I shoul
say"
, Now here, >" interrupted the Critic, 81
a verse from lady who tries TO be sentl
mental What of this"
SONGS UNSUNG.
u Dedicated 70 a lost voice.
There dwells within my heart a captive bird,
Il is the bird Of song yet ne'cr is heard
His warblings now voice less captive he
Close Gagged and pinioneI-pinng 20 be free
It was not always thus-olCe he could sing
In clear, sweet notes, and rising free on wing
In the hrrlt mcrrlinr 81 lsllld frilI with lark