The Birmingham age-herald., 1911-09-17
From the New York Post.

TNRANK L. STANTON, the Georgia newspaper poet, whose verses, A They've Hung Bill Jones'" are credited with effecting the communication of death sentence in Oregon the other respited man dinner party in his nri- vate office and bits of the unemployed rope were distributed as souvenirs-has been writing stanzas to head the Just from Georgia" column in the Atlanta Con stitution for years.
 Stanton was a friend of Joel Chandler Harris, who once said of him: Mean while here is one with the dew of morn ing on his hair, who lool@ on life and the promise thereof and finds the prospect joyous. Whereupon he lifts up his voice and speaks to the heart; and lo here is Love with nimble feet and sparkling eyes; and here Is Hope, fresh risen from his sleep; and here Is Life made beautiful again."
 All of which is high praise for a man who has been writing rhymes to lead daily newspaper column. and yet is not altogether undeserved.
 In many ways Stanton reminds the haphazard reader of James Whitcom5 Riley There is the same easy, col loquial touch in most of the verses he writes, although now and then, as if he said to himself that it was to pro- ceed to business and turn out bit of real poetry" he buckles down to the semi-efforted product and displays an inl- pressve serious mindedness which, how ever, is wiped away by the next page where "wishin' " is jauntily rhymed with fish and watermelons and summer sunshine seem to be the chief ingredi- ents of the southern muse. Stanton is never dull. He loves the warmth of June, the chatter of even the noisest birds. and the atmosphere of not working too hard. Doesn't he say:
 o summer time in Georgy-I love to sing
 your praise.
 Though I've got no voice for singin', it's
 a tune love to raise! When the birds is pantin', chantin, an
 jest rantin' roun' the rills, With the juice O ripe backberries jest
 a-drippin' from their bills.
 His volume, Songs of the Soil.' pub lished by O. Appleton & Co.,, contains some or HIS pest WOfk. III lne verses, Might in the South,' one quatrain Is: And yet-so still is all That if birds nest slipped It's airy
 tether
 There would be no sound and feeling in
 the fall
 Of one light feather.
 Jim Riley once wrote: And up through the rifted treetops
 That sgnaled the wayward breeze, I saw the bulk of hawk becalmed,
 Far out on the azure seas.
 This is a second cousin of Stantons quatrain. Take the second stanza of Not Melancholy" which runs: These ain't the melancholy days-not
 much, they're full O life, An you're thankful fer your sweeth cart,
 an you praise God fer your wife. An then, on general prnciples-in view
 of what He given
 You shout hallelujah fer the privilege O
 Twin.
 "When Jim as Dead" tells how the wife of a never do well changed the atti- tude of village. It starts: When Jim was dead
 Tt sarved him right the neighbors said, An 'bused him for the life he'd led.
 But when the wife leaned over ,tnd kissed the dead man. and sobbed that he had always been good to her, Stanton says.
 tell you when that came to light It scrter set the dead man right. 
 The Atlanta newspaper poet has never written anything that has been copied more-and his stanzas are daily loot in hundred exchange rooms = than 'sWearyin' fer You which contains the following:
 Jest wearyin' fer you All the time a-feelin' blue; Wisllih' fer you--wonderin when You'll be comin' home again. Restless-don't know what to do- Jest a-wearin' fer you. Just to show what Stanton thinks of his brother singer, read: But Jim's the same old Riley, an he sings from left to right. Till he sets the world to music an jest tangles 1t in light; An so 1t an't no wonder that they put him down in books, Like the blessed one he sent me from "Creen Fields and Running RrookQ