The Washington times., 1916-03-16
Washington
Poets Rush
Remarkable Discovery Of
Local Talent Saves Life of
This Column. Who Would
Have Thought That the
Capital City Was the
Abiding Place of Poets,
and That They Were So
Sublimely Modest?

YV AVE you little poet in your
LOOK carefully You may
have one unbeknownst!
Because, they are thick In Washing
ton l...
No less than seventeen contributions
In verse have come to this office for
this column. and with every one comes
Almost modest letter of depreciation.
How Our Poets Poet.
The best time TO catch a poet IL late
at night.
They have a coy little habit of drink
ing coffee at dinner or later. then lying
awake and thinking. Along about 3
o'clock In the morning. after the poet
to-he has made a cocoon out of the
covers. and has listened for two hours
e. s;ds, stretch tSat for burglars and las de.
with thunder" the first step is taken.
Leaping out OF bed. with a gay laugh
OF the lips at the daring Of 1t. coupled
slightly with humor at doing such a
thing, the poet makes for a pencil.
Turning on the light IL not necessary.
have known poets whJ wrote by the
sense Of TOUGH, on the wall. paper. But
theso were violent cases.
No true poet ever. stops to put on a
bathrobe or slippers. Neither does he
(this pronoun means she and It also, re-
member) keep pencil In a familiar
place.
Everything must be extemporaneous.
The harder he shivers, the better the
meter. .',-..
After the toes have been soothed fol-
lowing the collision which is inevitable.
the pencil found, and the burning words
hastily inscribed on paper. or some
thing. the poet goes back to bed.
e BY the time ne has succeeded IN sep
arating covers from sheets and has
made up his mind that he would never
be success as mail clerk. the poem
has been forgotten. Into bed. covers
up, and then once more he dreams OF
his poem. with Alfred Noyes and John
Mastield biting their nails IN envy the
while country people report that Long
ing over in their graves in sheer irri-
tation at not being able to compete with
such brilliancy.
Morning.
When morning comes, the poet rises.
heavy of head and weary OF limb He
looks at his poem with disgust. He
worked hard to produce 1t. and can't de-
stroy II. but he can hide II. And so
he does, far from the eyes OF his land
first girl and his grade school reports.
Nothing more or less than such a col
uinn as this can tempt the poet from his
. lair. Even then he prefers to remain
indeed, and pure Is the art (which
wishes to be Judged for its merit alone.
FULFILMENT.
thought one day to build a boat
And dreamed it stately. white and
carved % it out-my heart seemed
1t was so pitifully small.
Ny father. touched by my despair
Brought me craft so full Of grace
way knew
I'd met my dream-boat face to
face.
I thought one day to make a friend
And dreamed her beautiful and
found her selfish. false and bold
For motley hosts q cynosure
She played with me, then tossed
My 1 sifts IS toys no longer new
Stretched out His hand, and gave
Evelyn Martha Emig,
A MAsQUE.
A King. Peasant. and Fool
Were all together at l.ife's School.
The King.
ruled my people we'll and long.
In wars of conquest won them
land;
Thereon established, throng on
throng,
Where they may prosper and ex-
pand.
The Peasant.
I drudged all day TO TIL the soil
And paid my tax when crops were
good.
And when they fa'lcd-and vain my
toll
pinched along the best could.
The Fool.
had no crown, no land to TIL;
They held me for n thought!css
thing:
I only lauRhcd-and chccred the Ill
And followed April In the Spring
Life.
The King shall bear the mark Of
Cain.
Tho peasant as an OK I band;
The Fool In such merry swain
gladly take him by tho hand.
STELLA.