I know without any jaw from you,
'Twas a darned nonsensical thing to do;
But I tell you plain--and I mean it, too--
For all it was such a ridiculous thing,
I should do it again!" said Mr. King.




THE ART OF "POETRY."

FROM "TOWN TOPICS."

I ask not much! but let th' "dank wynd" moan,
"Shimmer th' woold" and "rive the wanton surge;"
I ask not much; grant but an "eery drone,"
Some "wilding frondage" and a "bosky dirge;"
Grant me but these, and add a regal flush
Of "sundered hearts upreared upon a byre;"
Throw in some yearnings and a "darksome hush,"
And--asking nothing more--I'll smite th' lyre.

Yea, I will smite th' falt'ring, quiv'ring strings,
And magazines shall buy my murky stunts;
Too long I've held my hand to honest things,
Too long I've borne rejections and affronts;
Now will I be profound and recondite,
Yea, working all th' symbols and th' "props;"
Now will I write of "morn" and "yesternight;"
Now will I gush great gobs of soulful slops.