_Literary Monthly_, 1907.
[Footnote 1: Copyright, 1908, by Julian Park.]
MORTAL VERSE
WILLIAM HUTCHESON WINDOM '11
The muse of poetry is a lady of many whims. Fancy, not reason, seems
to determine her actions. She loads the untutored ploughman with the
most lavish gifts, while the scholar sits neglected in his study. She
places a golden crown on the brow of the slave and flings a tasselled
cap at the master. And yet the fool's raiment is worn with as serious
and dignified mien as is the kingly crown. She is a malicious person,
and while she keeps a straight face before you, it is a hundred to one
that she winks behind your back. To be most trusted when she is most
deceitful, that is her role.
Very few of us have not at some time come under her spell. The most
guiltless-looking has somewhere in the lower drawer of his desk or at
the bottom of the tin box where he keeps his old papers, a manuscript,
which he at times, half tenderly, half contemptuously, lifts out,
after making sure that no prying eye is near. _He_ has caught the muse
winking.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210