Evening star., 1925-09-22

4
Ths meiiov I'll upon those lips.
Bus most. aesr senfs sers q h ns.rs.. thy proofs
That stili sshsse words enhance
VII %s.ssesf .'ss p: 'sss sss essae. sssst
In renewiEa our acquaintance here
with one ds The lesser poets. we must
not forget. fhe Hymn to the Sum-
| which ends:
God Of re nes!phic fame
81 5a' rls1s .asy .,'l ], .le.' !e.vt
solemn eshi to the end Of time.
Many r Hoods poems will leave
similar ,eSnaes Besides the ones al
ready sf,srn there are "The Death
bed.' ir sIich the poet reminded his
readers That the dead have another
morn THAR 1tirs; fantasy. Flowers" "
in which, fSe praises the rose for all
time: 'ftsulh.' beginning with the
strikinsf afss. "She stood breast high
amid this. c5rn. clasped by the golden
light OF f:ia-n;" that ballad beginning,
ut was net in the Winter" the ia.
nous 'rspf.g of the Shirt" and the
more relss1sned Bridge of Signs"
Beforss We consider them let us
take slanee at Hoods attempt at
BLANK verse in rhyme Here is the
way he did it:
Even is te.ine; and from the dark park. bark I!
| The signal 0f the setting sun-one gun
Anon nitfa rs Comes and with her wings brings
Such as$ with his poetic tongue. Young
t,s
The sas. ur-brazes with its bright white
| The .psr$JJt Il. watchmen prowl. howl! growI
! About thf; streets and take up Pall Man sal,
/ Who. has snIus to her nightly Job. rohs fobs.
Now thieses to enter for your cash, smash,
Bat 2fseasd ffsyegF by FoIicemaa m aae see + fee
| And whi1s they re gong whisper low. No
| t'nads leads,
And sle9 FL i;eFs ;9 waking. rrumble. 'Drst that
who iG, the gutter caterwauis squalls
somo iti,ae Toe and screams in shrill ill will
Enonayh--enough we will take
our blahE verse blank, in the future
| If you blaase.
| We particularly like the ballad:
1t VIZ got in the winter
Our, loving lot was cast
II WAY n the time Of roses:
w .pllclied them as passed
:. o.. ;early lovers yet .<.-,...,
Oh. re The world vas newly crowned
N!ta flowers when first We met.
TEA tn;;isht and sg. I n,s hsds you go.
| II ,Yeaa the time of roses
W. pEucked them as we passed.
The famous land justly SOL, Song
| of tha Shirt" suffers today as all
| poems must suffer that are written
to heiI, right wrongs. When the
! wrong are righted, and the Ills no
| longer present, we somehow fail to
enter snto the spirit of the poem
| But The Song of the Shirt" yet re-
| mains sthe plea of those who are
| forced to work until the brain be-
gins ,& swim" as Hood put it: and
| the naIrch of lesser hours of toll and
| more ibi leisure in life today Is testi-
! mony 80. the fact that Hood did not
His masterpiece, undoubtedly. was
and 1. that powerful curiosity Of
| literature. The Bridge of Sighs." be-
/ ginnilk:
One more unfortunate.
| = Weary of breath.
Rsshly importunste
;. Gone to her death.
| Take her up tenderly
Lift her with care
! ;Fashibrd so slenderly
! Young. and fair.
Hal il not been suffused with a
divine sympathy. and touched at
every line with a pity almost God =
/ like, The Bridge of Sighs'' would
| have been rhyming feat, and moth
| ing rlore.
/ II t3, however, infinitely more 1t
/ is great poem, a strange thing that
| grips Our hearts at the same time
| 1t affiNates our fancy, Ii is Thomas
Aoed at his best