The Brattleboro reformer. (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1907-1912, 1909-11-19
E. J.. FENTON & COMPANY, ALWAYS Reliable
OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES
He held neatly folded sheet of paper

He held neatly folded sheet of paper
before me. | began to grow uneasy
You don't mean to tell me you have
been writing poetry?'
Il don't know if you may call it that"
said George, timidly. But before II
send it to someone-to Marjorie, you know
will you tell me if it is presentable?
You know all about this sort of thing
| read it with interest, and it was not
half bad. | could not have done it nearly
so well, although | was supposed to know
all about that sort of thing" Rhyme and
rhythm might here and there have been
better, but there was magic in the web
of it. 1t was the expression of real feeling,
the result of a genuine mood, and so gained
depth the practised rhymester, with emo
ton artiicially induced, often lacks.
Il am not capable of criticism | re-
Marked returning the manuscript. But,
personally, | like the verses"
You don't think she will laugh at
them?" asked George.
Il am sure she will not said |, warmly
III take them over now. Isn't it grand
weather. You want to be out in the sun
all day, and jump about like child, don t
your"
Il have not noticed the feeling" |
answered little grumpily George is
about half my age, | calculated)
| watched him drive off furiously, the
car flying down the road. love laughing
at policemen and the legal limit. | eX-
perienced a strange sense of loneliness,
feeling that | was missing something that
was good. | seemed to have wifully put
aside, at some period of my life, an eX-
perience that in later years | might have
looked back on with pleasure and a warm
ing of the heart. The fancy came to me
of boy who had gone to a party, but re-
fused to have any supper. Probably he
was a sensible youth; he would be more
comfortable on the following day for his
sself-denial; he would preserve higher
level of happiness than the other boys |
But none of us really care for levels; we
want the mountainous. What" the |
other boys would cry, Not going to have
any grub? Funking it? Isn't supper |
like that worth a stomach-ache! And, at |
any rate, won't you get the supper first"
That is the general philosophy of living,
and although, as a rule, | disagree with it,
| felt misgivings as | watched Georges
car flying down the road.
Why could he express his feelings in
verse that had music, while l. at the least
more experienced with the pen, was
dumb? The old insistent question dinned
at my ears:
Why do l not write poetry in the
spring.
| begin to find the answer. The spring
and the birds that sing in it have moth
ING to do with the case. 1t is not the
weather that brings the burning thoughts
md the words Of music Ny young friend
George writes verse because he thinks of
Marjorie; ! cannot write it because have
no Marjorie of whom to think That is
he plain statement of cause and effect.
There Is no reason why we should write
poetry especially in the spring, except that
owe o women, a sturdy plant in all sea-
ions. seems to break into blossom then.
And the scent of II is not for me, in my
onely middle age.
Bother the spring. l will go and mend
he fowlhouse.-Harold Gibson, in the
queen.