The Nome daily nugget., 1937-08-20
Poetry
By James J. Montague

I REMEMBER reading, rather skep
 tically, a poem by Don Marquis.
 which after reciting the trials and tribulations of various foreign coun tries closed with: They had no poets. and they died" 1 was minded 10 re. monstrate with Mir. Marquis about this assertion. doubted the depend ence of civilization upon mere rhyme sters. On doctors, yes. sometimes. oh butchers and grocers, certainly. but why poets? How could they keep race from extinction? I looked upon the fellow who said he would rather write the songs of country than make its laws as wobbly in the bean. And then to give Mr. Marquis break Il aim to be fair minded-l began trying to think of any poetry which had ever done any good in the world. To my astonshment l located one or them inside of fifteen minutes of in tensive cerebration. It was piece by Rose Harrwick Thorpe. and If by any chance you are not familiar with the works of the lady, the name of It was "Curfew Shall Not Ring Tonight" It is quite an exciting poem, with happy ending. It tells how a young woman whose lover is about to be executed-it doesn't say what for-at the ringing of the curfew, climbs up into the old church tower grabs the clapper Of the bell, and when the sexton pulls on the rope. swings to and fro, so there isn't any ringing of the curfew that eve ming, and Cromwell, who breaks into the poem just at the right time. lets the young fellow off.
 So now 1 will explain how that poem, years after 1t was written, really con- tributed to human happiness.
 The circus was coming to town, and 1t was coming on week day. It had come on a week day now for four or five years. And if you had sug. gested to a parent of that time that 1t would be nice thing for him to write to the principal and tell him you couldn't go to school on circus day, on account of the patent necessity of go ing to the circus he would not have been able to control his astonishment -or his temper. As to taking In the night performance, well, bed time was half past eight o'clock every night, and how was anybody to get around that?
 For two weeks had tried to catch a cOld-just a severe enough cold to keep me out of school, but with no luck. went to school without my rubbers, sloshing through the gutters on the way. but nothing happened. I slept in a draught-and in those days sleep. ing in draught was regarded as a wanton invitation to destruction. Still nothing happened. l even thought of falling out of a tree and breaking my arm. but that would have kept me out of ball games for the rest of the sum mer, so l abandoned the idea.
 And then. taking my moody way to school one morning l met Bill McMOr- row. Naturally we fell at once to discussing the situation, but without any luck. till suddenly Bills reader slipped out of his grasp-a grasp which the seriousness of the situation had rendered nerveless and shouted ::
 By golly. got It."
 Got what. the b0Ok?"
 Nav. not the book. l got a way out of going to school circus day"
 "You ain't reallyl"
 "Sure l have. Lissen. You know that piece gotta speak next Friday P
 "The one about the Curfew and all that?"
 Yeah, that's the one. Suppose the old bell don't ring on circus day morn. ing. We don't half to go to school, do wei"
 "But how can you stop the bell ring. ing7 Me an you and Shep an Carl Parker an half dozen others can't keep that janitor from ringing tbe bellf
 We ain't big enough. And besides If we are to throw him and tic him