So my "lines are too heavy"—you "want something light"— "With less of humanity's battle for right"— "With more of the jingle, and less of the march"— You want it like linen without any starch! "Just touches of fancy," "without any fun"— That wilts like an onion leaf out in the sun! Just gushes of "sentiment"—mushy and thin, That won't provoke thinking, or even a grin. Your "popular writers" apparently think That poetry's nothing but rhyming and ink. With no sweep of the fancy, no food for the brain, They drizzle on smoothly like Oregon rain. They must rise and strike fire with their rhythmical lyre, Or their tame little ditties are born to expire. Why if rhyming, not climbing, is all there is to it, I can write it myself—I've a notion to do it. I'm inclosing a sample—an ample example— Of sound without sense, not worth a sixpence. I hope it will suit, for it scarce could be worse Than reams of the stuff you are printing for verse. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ANNE RUTLEDGE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE PLUMPUPPETS by CHRISTOPHER DARLINGTON MORLEY SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 105 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI RECOMPENSE by JESSE M. BALL ALLEN VERITAS by BERNICE BROWN BETTMAN |