The Cairo bulletin., 1909-12-19
THE DEATH
OF THE
POET =
By BARRY pam

| which was by no means perfect
/ fit, position In life as assistant to q
| grocer In Fulham, which was ex-
| tremely distasteful to him. and
passion for a girl called Annie, which
| seemed absolutely hopeless. The
young man himself was fully con-
| scious of the tragedy OF the situa-
| ton. He knew that 1t was from
such a furnace as this that the pure
| gold OF poetry was extracted. He
took to doing little poetry in his
leisure hours.
1t was very much like other poet
ry; that is to say, 1t was neither very
bad nor very good. The leisure
hours were limited, and this limited
the supply of the poetry. There was
not enough for volume. Perhaps
there never would be. That which
was already written did not entirely
satisfy the young mans nice and
critical taste. He would have reoast
II again and again II he had the
money. Much meditation on the
poignancy OF this situation led him
+ to the decision that when he was
dead. with the green grass growing
over him, after his name. carved In
a simple headstone. should come the
effective words, Who died unex-
pressed" 1t was some regret to him
that he could never live to see It,
Most OF his poems were addressed
10 Annie. who was a practical young
lady. A girl who is called Annie is
almost certain to be practical. He
would, without much encouragement
read these poems to her. Then she
would say Thank YOU" and look
very doubtful He did not like the
look. He went so far as TO ask her
II she did not think he was right in
using the one talent that heaven had
given him
We'll, l don't know about that"
said Annie. It's nothing to me, and
you've got 10 suit yourself. OF
course. it's better that you should
spend your time over this writing
than II you stopped BOOKING In the
public house all night-same as
some do My two brothers make pic
ture frames in the evening and sell
them, too. It's not for me to advise,
but why don't you try the picture
frames? Besides, ought you to go
on writing poems about me when
you know perfectly well there's
nothing in 1t? l like you we'll
enough so far as you go. but IL ever
| take a husband it'll be somebody
in far different position than you.
Just think about that"
At that moment he was extremely
annoyed and had to be pulled up by
Annie with a sharp Jerk After
wards he did go away and think
about 1t, and all the while he was
thinking about it a respectable soap
boiler of moderate fortune passed
peacefully away.
BY the death OF the soap boiler,
who was indeed his uncle. the young
man was placed in very different
position. Annie received the news
from him in brief and extremely
business like note. Her mother
agreed that 1t was clearly her duty
TO go round and see about it. She
would be able to catch him at the
shop in Fulham on her way to work
He was not at the shop, and she was
Informed that he had resigned his
post She had Just time to go on to
his lodgings. But he was not there
- 40
gagged in the purchase of one of the
very best glass eyes that money
could buy. It was a triumph. He
himself could only tell the difference
between the real eve and the artia-
cial by shutting first one lid and then
the other. His self-respect grew tire.
mendously.
Annie, who. as | have said, was
quite practical, did not forget that
August was his birthday and sent
him a pair of slippers which she had
worked with her own hands. She
thought the acknowledgment which
she received of her gift was little
too formal. She was driven so far
toward desperation that in a per
fectly needless letter of reply she
asked him TO send her any poetry
that he had been doing lately A
post card reached her from Margate
bearing the simple statement that
he had not been doing any lately.
Annie's charm had been the charm
of the unattainable. That was gone
now, and his eye showed him that
there were other prettier girls. The
other eye, the glass article, was so
complete that he no longer suffered
from any feeling of physical deform-
, ity. He was free from the long
hours of work at a business which
had never pleased him. He had
heaps of time to write poetry and to
recast what he had already written,
and he never wrote a single line.
Just once, as he enjoyed his after
| luncheon cigarette, he did recall the
| simple headstone and the proposed
| inscription who died with moth.
| Ing to express" occurred to him
| But he did not worry about 1t. He
| had promised to take girl out on
the water that afternoon. a remark,
| ably pretty girl, too He went liz