Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 41, Number 54, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 March 1909 — One Good Poem Deserves Another. [ARTICLE]

One Good Poem Deserves Another.

Paraphrasing the old adage, “one gbod turn deserves another," we have a very appropriate heading for this article. Some weeks ago Joe Harmman received a kodak photograph of John W. Powell, formerly sheriff of this county, and for many years a resident of Washington. The photo was sent as a valentine, and contained a few lines of John’s Riley-style poetry. Under date of March 11th he writes the Republican as follows: Dear Healy: I was much surprised this morning when handed a clipping from the Republican containing a description of my valentine to friend Hardman and the lines written on the back thereof, and Joe will have-to square himself with me when I meet him, as they were not written for publication. In fact they are only a garbled part of the original, written by me merely for pastime, I am neither a poet, a linguist nor a rhetoratician, but inasmuch as you have published a garbled portion of the lines, I will send you herewith a copy of the entire original and should you deem them worthy thereof yo.u may Insert them in the columns of your paper. Yours truly, J. W. Powell, ' 319 E st. NE. Here is the poem complete and a very clever work it is, too. xoMGnras. I’m longin—idly longin, I’m longin don’t yoii know, For the comin of the spring time— The 'pasSin of the show. For the dreamy, dreary Of the froggies from the; pond, An* their mates a callin back From the lilly pads, beyOnd. For the carol of the robin. An’ the lowfti of the kinfe; • For the leafin of the woodlands— The trailin of the vine. For the bloomin of the violets, An’ the hummin of the bees, A flittin through the branches, Of the buddin linden trees. For the sultry harvest season, The sunshine and the rain, For the swlshen of the cradles A gatherin the grain. - - I’m dreamin! gosh! I’m dreamin Of the care free days of yore, When a bare foot boy I wander’d By the river’s rugged shore. Jus’ a drinkin in the music. Of the forest and the rills, An’ gazln like, in wonder, At the grandeur of the hills. Ere sorrow crost my pathway, When ail was bright and fair, An' joyous were the greetins. That met me everywhere. Ere life had lost its’ glamour Ere guile supplanted truth, In the nappy days of boyhoodThe hafycon days of youth.