The Marion daily mirror. (Marion, Ohio) 1892-1912, 1908-04-11
The MUSE
IS NOT IDLE
Marion Has a Poet of no
Mean Ability.
IDENTITY IS SHIELDED
He Refuses to Give His Name
to the Authorities.
Writes Parody on the Margin of
Newspaper and Leaves 1t Lying
in Bis Cell at the City Prison.

The poets songs have brought light
into the hearts of many bruised
souls; the lyrics of the mythic gods
have introduced new ideals into the
imaginative minds of the inhabitants
of the world. Despite the fact, how
ever. that the pen of the poet has
revolutionized literature, soliloquized
nature and taught the songs of mus
ical thought, many of his volumes lie
musty on the shelf. Although we
unanimously concede the ancient,
the poet of all poets and the example
to many future decades, we cannot
fully appreciate his marvellous pro
ductions. For this Is different age.
1t is the rhyme writer of today who
ficiently long in the swift tide OF
life, to drink of the musical lines.
All greatly admire the marvellous
work of Riley. All have learned to
love his rythmic chants. His mod
ern ideas are painted upon our
minds, and libraries are incomplete
without a copy Of his works.
Marion is naturally a POLITICALLY in
clined city. Its landscape with the
gracefully sloping hills, has inspired
many an ambitious writer to resort 10
verse. The magnificent city hall
building, the historic little market
house, are inspirations to the writ
er who directs the theme of his verse
to the style of ancient poets.
Many flower has been Fborn to
lblush unseen and wasted its sweet
ness on the desert air" SO It is true
with many poets. 1t Is well assured
THAT poets are born ani not made
! Marion has a poet. A real born and
lunfalsified rhymer But the subject
is like the desert flower and but few
have been benefited by his work.
His name Is unknown and as a poet
he Is stranger to all mankind.
J He was apparently just plain
Ihobo. Officer Jack arrested him be-
cause he showed signs of intoXication.
Being unable to hand Louis the GUS
ltomary five plunks his destiny was
to languish behind the prison bars.
The days seemed to drag slowly by
for por hobo He declared that he
was a resident Of Marion, but abso-
lutely refused TO give his name. The
Ipolice liked him for his silence and
admired his calm disposition. He
was very fond of reading and begged
of the officers to pass him papers
land magazines. He read continually
and was seemingly i'll at ease only
when without reading material The
man was a great curiosity at police
headquarters. Some pronounced him
crazy while others declared him
great man who was simply down and
out.
1t was during the second day OF
Mr.. Hobo's confinement that a pa
trolman handed him an evening
daily. He scanned the columns but
a few moments, when he ran across
something that seemed to greatly in
terest. The officer stood watching
him with idle curiosity. After a few
minutes had elapsed the Jail bird
became apparently unconscious OF the
officers presence and began reading
aloud. The officer recognized that
the prisoner was giving a fine re-
cital of the Down and Out" poem
from the pen of James Whitcomb
Riley. The following verses were
plainly audible as they flowed from
the lips of the man who knew how
to read:
"When man amt got cent and
he's feelin' kind of blue,
AN the clouds hang dark and heavy
and won't let the sunshine through
It's a great thing, oh, my brethren,
fer feller just to lay
His hand upon your shoulder in a
friendly sort of way
1t makes a chap feel curious, 1t makes
the tear drops start,
An you feel a sort of flutter in the
region Of your heart,
You can't look up into his eyes. you
don't know what to say,
When hand is on your shoulder in
friendly sort of way
Oh, the worlds a curious compound,
with its honey and its gall
With its care and bitter crosses, but
a good world arter all
An a good God must have made it,
feastways that's what | say,
When a hand is on my shoulder in a
friendly sort of way.
Mr.. Hobo read and re-read the
Then, as If struck by some
mysterious emotion, he hastily drew
a pencil from his pocket, and for
several minutes busted himself with
writing across the corners of the
The next day Mr.. Hobo gained his
release. Thsnewspaper on which he
had been Writing, was found in the
pprnnr of tho coll NN,ittan I'm m