The Washington herald., 1918-04-13

Special Correspondent Of TIE Washington Herald.
New York. April 12.-Fred c. Kelly.
the magazine writer. has always con-
tended that many OF the decorative
magazine poems are . mere spasm OF
words and mean nothing. Serious
thinkers read them. become dazed and
proclaim them as poetic treasures
when the fact is that they do not
know what they mean at all For they
are meaningless at least to most .olk.
Kelly is a practical Joker. an incor-
rigibie literary clown at times. Not
long ago he came up from his country
home in Chevy Chase, Maryland. to
New York to call on magazine editors.
He was dining with a group of them
when the subject Of senseless poems
came up. He made a wager that he
could write a poem without rhyme or
reason that would create a fiutter
among the high brows One editor
agreed to print the poem. He did.
The poem is still being discussed
Is one of the greatest poetic contribu-
tions since the effusions Of Rabin-
dranath Tagore, the lavender pajama
poet. Letters came to the editor from
all over the country demanding more
of the work Of Yilek Derf-which is
Fred Kelly spelled backward. II vas
read at literary societies and one
critic in Maine declared that il had
more soul and more OF the inspira tion-
al than anything that has ever been
printed.
Kelly won his wager. Here is
the poem:
Who knows the lilt OF dark. in
sensate things
That simmer through the sunken
sea OF strife?
When comes the chafered call OF
The hearkened pulse of Grass. in
Quinate lull
or those that were and are and yet
are not?
And where yawns the grave pro-
tuberant athwart
The gay abyss where vim the epic
searchers stifle?
Comes then the reeking Groom OF
tiers
On tiers. and threshing yelps Of
woe that laughs
But knows no more? What then
il sounds
The rift unto the azure slope and
1owly trend of
Bright discalceated tawn. Sits the
shrill and
Soundless beams unto to the reek-
ing smiles agone?
Who knows? All. who knows?
The Metropolitan's new scnsa-
tional opera pantomime lie Coz
d. Or" has proved a fairyland of
art and music. Unless one has seen
lie Cog q Or well one simply
can not help being snubbed at aft
ternoon teas and other oolong
orgies of Manhattan.
Poushkin, the famous Byronic poet
Of Russia, wrote a tragic-comic NOR
ality play in the form of an Orlental
fairy tale, entitled 1.-The Golden Cock
in the current French version lie
Coz d. Or" Set to the lifting divert
ing music of Rimsky- -Korsakon, TINS
story in the guise OF a glorified pam
tomime IL the spectacular novelty OF
New York's grand opera season.
Like all good fairy tales 1t is adapt
able to any place or period-so the
lively lduCy VI ""y oeNhss
York's modern poster impressionist
] who designed the stage setting and
costumes, made it old Russian. He
wanted liberty and license-the kind
they talk about in washington
| square as the "crude. strong, hall
| barbaric splendor Of color and form "
The sleekIy pomaded clerk who
grsets you In New York may be
working for Uncle Sam or 80 may the
hotel porter or bell boy or taxi driver
Spies flock to hotels so 1t is here
that the shrewd United States Secret
Service operatives gather much valu'
able material. The walter who wait'
on one at the Ritz may be spy hun
ter or the bus boy at Sherry's ma!
also be q sleuth. At the Plaza ant
waldorf trained operatives are con
stantly about the lobbies looking TO
Sfhe Alightsst dash Of PEussAenlsms