Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1910-02-04
AS YOU LIKE IT. /"

a iuEnace-and in lis pocket there lay
indeed "a woeful ballad made to his
mistress eyebrow" A lover, beyond
question: then: but in his own estiIna
J ton lover no longc... And thereby
hangs my tale For in the pocket of this
young man, beside the woeful ballad,
there lay a woeful letter; and in the
letter, with many brave words, he lis
carded his love.
At o'clock that June morning he
| had written his wOeful ballad. At 2
O'Clock he had written his woeful let
ter. Three o'clock found him nodding
over volume of Shakespeare, comfort
| ing his heart with AS You Like IT.
Shreds and tatters Of what he had read
passed through his mind.
| "Nevcrtheless-"
And now the poet began agaia to be
sad
"To love-and then to see another
Guido you in love--to see how he backs
his suit with all the attributes of sue
cessful match-how he wins the fathers
neart with his handbook, the mothers
with his high and mighty titles the sis
| ters' with his castles the brothers with
his grouse moors and his yaehts-to
watch him take the opportunities that
never came your way, and never could
who shall comfort me for all this? IT'S
poor thing to be told, Not any man
died in a love-cause.'
| The poet stood still for a moment-h
| fe,t very miserable smarting from the
venom of adversely. But presently he
| began to think again on the precious
Jewel in the toad's head-the comfort
| ing fact that his case was hopeless. Why
| he had but once in his life come face to
! face with the object of his late adora-
| tion--he had written her no mere than
| half a dozen letters and score or so
of sOnnets She was a dukes daughter
| he was a poet. She was wooed by
rich uobleman-a fat and ugly noble
man, in truth, yet one considered by all
an appropriate match And he was poor
| So, hugging his precious jewel, he con-
tinued on his way across the bayfield,
| His path led to stjle. half-hidden be-
meath the green PERCUSSION Of the hedge
| And there he came to standstill. mouth
agape, For now he saw before him the
very eyebrow he had eulogized in his
woeful ballad, an eyebrow raised at his
approach in wonderment, feigned or
real. as the case might be.
| Quickly he recovered himself. his scat
| tered senses returned He advanced and
raised his hat He smiled And an
answering smile came back to him froini
the vision on the stie.
| "You." he said
"You." said she.
So they greeted one another Paul
the poet, and Lydia. 4 dukes daughter.
meeting in the bayfield, They fell to
talking of the weather-they had met
! but once before.
"A poets day." she said.
every breeze" he replied has watt
ed me lyric
Il am on my way to the postofTice"
she said. But the stile proved too
| great temptation, and I fear / have
missed the post
II. too" said he, "am bound for the
postoflice. and imagine the temptation
of the stile TO me! But for my part, if
| miss the post shall rejoice
and ] am not sure" she said, that
/ shall be really sorry TO miss it,"
| Into the next bayfield,, as yet uncut.
came two horses. drawing moving
machine. which made a most musical
n
vherewith to cut the grass beyond the
machines reach, The air hummed with
| insects.
~ poets dav. indeed" lie said "And,
by the way. it was with poetry that /
was going to the postotiice-with a Woe
Sui ballad made last night to my mis-
| tress' eyebrow
1--WE appear to have much in COM
my way to post some poems, with let
ter that wrote about them last night"
| Their eyes met inquiringly. Did each
of them feel they were talking of mat
! tiers of life and death that a remark
dropped ever so carelessly might be big
| with fate?-that neither quite knew
what Law behind the others highest
word? The air, at any rate. was charged
with mere than poetry--with tingling
electricity
Posting a poem" he said, is ter
rihe matter When | post off poem
to a publisher | feel as a mother must
! feel when she sends out her children
must feel when she watches her calf
going TO the butcher"
And when your poem comes back to
youf" she inquired.
"Ah." he exclaimed. "you have found
a tender spot! Then one is very angry
There is the sting of the rejection form
The publisher regrets Worse than
! this is the bitter thought that ones
darling creation has been read by cold
unappreeiative eyes. On, is very glad,
then. to have the dear child home again,
| safe and sound
You should rot venture to post your
poems ii YOU cannot bear 10 receive
| them back"
Sometimes I don't And sometimes,
when on my way TO the postotiice, |
chance to meet the very person TO whom
they are addressed-a critic, perhaps
And theu?"
And then--well, suppose we are in
Fleet street / take my critic by the
arm and call for port. Then, while he
sprawls across the table, striking his
fayorite attitude of criticism. | draw
| my from, % nj -