The weekly Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1911-1922, 1911-04-27
The Love Classic

The bench was OF wooden Stats
painted green. Above one end Inns
pinkish balls of lydIangea; at the
otner, lilacs nodded pertaining the per
feet bower. Upon the bench nestled
dreamy Miss ErphrosyEe and Major
Stanton, when all his little world
called unimaginative.
Il am going to read TO you today,
major, answered Miss Eupnrcsyne.
"Humpn," snorted the mayor. THAT
isn't what | came here to talk to you
about
But, major" protested the lady, Il
wrote this poem myself. 1t is sonnet
ard its name is w hCn Love Beckons.
''Humph." snol ted Major. Stanton
How could love beckon! How many
hands has love? Who ever saw it?''
The lady flushed. Now, don't be
foolish. I'm going to read and want
honest, candid cIiticisni?"
The r.a- OF stirred uneasily beneath
the fury balls of hyirangea. But /
diant come TO listen 10 poetry. want
Listen, cautioned MISS Euphrosyne.
Then sac began to lead in sof,, liquid
cadence:
When night has cast her mantle Ger
the sward''-
Hugh" interrupted the major. Il
CUES that mantle of night figure is
about the oldest figure ever Invented.
l think Ham sang it to Shem during
the big rain
Miss Euphrosyne smiled, but no. too
sweetly, and resumed
''And the silver notes of MAJ ,3re's noe
turne wind
Hugh. Humph! Pshaw.,r' sput-
tered the major Il would like to
know who first told poet notes werf
silver"
Major Stanton" said Miss Euphro-
syne severely You might at least Le
kind
The mayor grinned. All right. You
said to be honest. Let's get it over.
want to talk about ourselves"
Miss Euphrosyne took up the brok-
en- thread:
Through lea and dale, DER scarp and
dune and fell
Hey, stop" cried the major. zig
this an American poem, or is il pig
con Chinese or Hottentot? What is a
lea and dune? You'll have TO cut out
that nature taking"
Miss Euphrosyne turned squarely,
and her flush was deep, and her voice
quivered. Major Theophilus Stanton,
! wish 10 distinctly understand that
rave you no license to be insulting. If
you are not able to appreciate good
poetry, you ought to keep still about
II. And as for that question you've
been limiting about asking-why,
could never care for a man who did
not care for sonnets.''
Oh sighed the major; that's Diff
ferent."
My ideal is the man who dotes on
poetry continued Miss Euphrosyne,
dreamily.
"Ah," sighed the major; 'let's have
that exquisitely beautiful sonnet
again"
Miss Euphrosyne looked glowingly
at the candid critic. then read the
sonnet through, dwelling lovingly on
each sounding rhyme When she had
finished, she looked inquiringly at
Major Stanton. That gentleman had
risen to his feet
Il rise to remark" he said, that the
sonnet just read marks new era in
the worlds poetic annals. It makes
Shakespeare look like piker and puts
Milton on the blinky-blink. 1t is
rhythmic !, liquid and soothing. It
has the tones of nature, the fragrance
OF the forests. the tints Of autumn,
the carol Of spring and the purl Of
hidden brooklsts, all in one. In short,
Miss Duphrosyne, your poem is a
peach. masterpiece, a lulu and a
classic"
"Oh, dear. dear, major!" sighed
Miss Euphrosyne.
And now" said the major. about
that question:"
Il think we'd better be married in
June" sighed Miss Euphroysne.
And the pinkish hydrangea balls
nodded over at the fragrant, all-wise
lilacs.