Uncle Walt: the poet philosopher

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G.M. Adams, 1911 - Humor - 189 pages
 

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Page 153 - DROPS of water poured into the milk, give the milkman's daughters lovely gowns of silk. Little grains of sugar, mingled with the sand, make the grocer's assets swell to beat the band. Little bowls of custard, humble though they seem, help enrich the fellow selling pure ice cream. Little rocks and boulders, little chunks of slate, make the coal man's fortune something fierce and great. Little ads, well written, printed nice and neat, give the joyful merchants homes on Easy Street.
Page 50 - James Henry Charles Augustus Jones, please get your pay and leave the store; I will not need you any more. Important chores you seem to shun ; you're always leaving work undone; and when I ask the reason why, you heave a sad and soulful sigh, and idly scratch your dome of thought, and feebly say: "Oh, I forgot!" James Henry Charles Augustus Jones, this world's a poor resort for drones, for men with heads so badly set that their long suit is to forget. No man will ever write his name upon the shining...
Page 85 - ... little fretting, some smiles and then some tears; a little resting in the shadow, a struggle to the height, a futile search for El Dorado, and then we say Good Night. Some moiling in the strife and clangor, some years of doubt and debt, some words we spoke in foolish anger that we would fain forget; some cheery words we said unthinking, that made a sad heart light; the banquet, with its feast and drinking — and then we say Good Night.
Page 29 - THE LITTLE green tents where the soldiers sleep, and the sunbeams play and the women weep, are covered with flowers today; and between the tents walk the weary few, who were young and stalwart in 'sixty-two, when they went to the war away. The little green tents are built of sod, and they are not long, and they are not broad, but the soldiers have lots of room; and the sod is part of the land they saved, when the flag of the enemy darkly waved, the symbol of dole and doom. The little green tent is...
Page 90 - Julius Caesar's ox. His widow now is scrubbing floors, and washing shirts, and splitting wood, and doing fifty other chores that she may rear his wailing brood. "Tomorrow," said the careless jay, "I'll take an hour and make my will ; and then if I should pass away, the wife and kids know no ill." The morrow came, serene and nice, the weather mild, with signs of rain; the careless jay was placed on ice, embalming fluid in his brain. Alas, alas, poor careless jay! The lawyers got his pile of cash;...
Page 45 - SAD eyes that were patient and tender, Sad eyes that were steadfast and true, And warm with the unchanging splendor Of courage no ills could subdue! Eyes dark with the dread of the morrow, And woe for the day that was gone, The sleepless companions of sorrow, The watchers that witnessed the dawn. Eyes tired from the clamor and goading And dim from the stress of the years, And hallowed by pain and foreboding And strained by repression of tears. Sad eyes that were wearied and blighted By visions of...
Page 29 - ... darkly waved, the symbol of dole and doom. The little green tent is a thing divine; the little green tent is a country's shrine, where patriots kneel and pray; and the brave men left, so old, so few, were young and stalwart in sixtytwo, when they went to the war away !' " The Reviewer's voice broke on the last words; it was a moment before he could say, as he offered the book to the Muse: " It's printed as prose, you see.
Page 69 - It's a pretty good scheme in your joking, to cut out the jest that's unkind, for the barbed kind of fun you are poking, some fellow may carry in mind; and a good many hearts have been broken, a good many hearts fond and true, by words that were carelessly spoken by alecky fellows like you. It's a pretty good scheme to be doing some choring around while you can ; for the gods with their gifts are pursuing the earnest industrious man; and those gods, in their own El Dorado, are laying up wrath for...
Page 45 - EYES, that were patient and tender, sad eyes, that were steadfast and true, and warm with the unchanging splendor of courage no ills could subdue! Eyes dark with the dread of the morrow, and woe for the day that was gone, the sleepless companions of sorrow, the watchers that witnessed the dawn. Eyes tired from the clamor and goading, and dim from the stress of the years, and hollowed by pain and foreboding, and strained by repression of tears. Sad eyes that were wearied and blighted, by visions of...
Page 13 - No other American versemaker has such a daily audience. Walt Mason is, therefore, the Poet Laureate of the American Democracy. He is the voice of the people. Put to a vote, Walt would be elected to the Laureate's job, if he got a vote for each reader. And, generally speaking, men would vote as they read. The reason Walt Mason has such a large number of readers is because he says what the average man is thinking so that the average man can understand it.

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