Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 February 1884 — Edited Poetry. [ARTICLE]

Edited Poetry.

Probably no class of men are thrown into more intimate relations with poets than editors of newspapers. A handmade, patent poet came into this office recently, and he had his manuscript with h,m. He cleared his bronchial tubes, threw on a few tremolo, flute, vox harmonica, and other stops, and commenced: “Under the Willows a maiden fair Was braiding her wealth or golden hair.” “That won’t jibe with the tone of this paper,” we said, sharply. “It won’t?” inquired the poet, in a tone of surprised suddenness. “Why, no. Don’t you recognize that this journal isn’t a second-hand musicbox ? The rhythm is all right enough, but you don’t seem to catch on to the true ring. Don’t you think this would be better? “Down in the kitchen a maiden fair Out of the hash was picking a ha r.” “Well, possibly, the way you put it,” said the poet, shifting uneasily in his chair. “Why, of course it would; give us the next stanza. ” “She thought of the flower, the stars above. And then she thought of the power of love." “Oh, she did, eh? Well, we shall have to get you to fix that up this way: “While thinking of Mike, who was oft beside’ her. She turned around and stepped in the spider.” The poor poet wiped away a tear. He saw at once that, with our strong, practical common-sense views of life, ’we had him cn the hip; and he couldn’t help himself either, “ Warble the next stauza, ” we said curtly. Breathing hard like a pacing horse just in from a mile heat the poor wretched poet proceeded: “The wind came up from the sunny south. And kissed the maiden on cheek and mouth.’ “That, verse will do well enough if you’ll only make one little change in it.” “What is it ?” inquired the perspiring poet, brightening up a trifle and exhibiting a trifle more animation. “Say you make it read this way: “She grabbed it up with a surly grow-el And wiped it out with a Tut kish towel.” “That is quite a little change,” said the depressed poet. “Do you think it would improve it ?”* “Certainly. Swing in with the next earmen. ” “The maiden rose from her rusiic seat, And silently passed through the lonely street “That’s the close,” he said timidly, and with a long sigh of relief. “Oh, that's the close, is it? All right. Well, yon will find we are right along with you. Just alter that this way: “Down on the girl the housewife bore. And tired her thiuHigh the kitchen door.” “Now, you see„ with the aid of the few minor suggestions which we have made, you can trim that thing of yoursinto some respectable kind of shape. Besides that yon have got a poem which you can split— a kind of double-bar-reled poem—and sell half to one paper and the other half to another,” The poet exhibited no little alacrity in< preparing to take his departure.— Texas Siftin gs.