Evening star., 1926-04-21
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES E. TRACEWELL.

| night, I mourn'd-and yet shall mourn
with ever-returning Spring" begins
this great poem (printed here in prose-
in which form 1t will be more accept
able to the average reader).
1t Is interesting to note, in passing.
that Whitman, in this poem, as In
all his others, steadily violated one
of Edgar Allan Poe's principles, enun-
ciated in THE Rationale Of Verse.
In that essay on verse forms, Mr..
Poe declared that every word ought
to be spelled out correctly, instead Of
using such forms as "bloom'd,
'droop'd. "mourn'd." as in the above.
He undoubtedly was right. Espe-
cially was there no excuse In the
world for Whitman using such ell
sions, since the rambling nature OF his
poems (Which many will not agree to
call poems at alb allowed him room to
use the full form.
Such usage merely confuses the
reader, and tends to give choppy ap-
pearance to ones verse. This IDEA
might be kept in mind by all ambitious
writer's of verse, especially at this
time of the year, when Spring does
strange things to the poetic urge.
20 ever-returning Spring, trinity
sure to me you bring, lilac blooming
perennial. and dropping star in the
west, and thought of him I love- So
the Good Gray Poet went OH.
90 powerful, western, fallen star!
o shades of night. o moody, fearful
night! o great star DISAPPEARED, o the
black murk that hides the star. o
cruel hands that hold me powerless,
0 helpless soul of me, o harsh sur
rounding cloud that will not free my
soul!'
Then comes an unforgettable de-
scription of the lilac as most OF US
know it, in it's simple. beautiful set
ting:
"In the door yard fronting an old
farmhouse. near the white-wash d
| palings, stands the lilac bush, tall
growing. with heart-shaped leaves of
rich green, with many q pointed
blossom, rising, delicate, with the per-
fume strong L love, with every leaf q
miracle-and from this bush III the
door yard, with delicate-colo bios
| SONS, and heart-shaped leaves Of rich
green, a sprig, with it's flowers. /
/ break"
The poet knows OF a shy and hid
| den bird warbling a song in the
swamp, the thrush warbling It's song
| in a hidden recess.
! The poet thinks of the sad pro
cession. as the great Lincoln. slain
in the glory Of a Washington Spring
time, goes back to his last sad home
while all along the way great crowca
OF silent. sorrowful people watch him
as he goes.
Here, coffin that slowly passes.
give you my sprig Of lilac" reverently
says the poet. Then he thinks Of
death: I'm the day, in the night. TO
| all, to each, sooner or later, delicate
| Death" A serene faith in death he
| sings: Dark Mother, always gliding
| near. with soft feet, have none chant
ed for thee a chant of fullest welcome?
| Then I chant it for thee-I glorify
| thee above all; / bring thee a song
| that when thou must indeed come.
| come unfalteringly."
| In the end he keeps lilac and star
| and bird, twined with the strange
| chant, for the sweetest, wisest soul
| Of all my days and lands"
! Thus the lilac brings us today. with
| other recollections, the memory of a
| great man. Think OF him, for a
| second, when you smell your first
| lilac, and know again that he did not
| die in vain