| I wrote a little poem on the melancholy days
Which told of chill and foggy winds in many a dismal phrase But still the golden summer lingered in the lap of fall And the editor refused it for it wouldn't fit at all. Said he: "Compose some stanzas about this lovely clime And bring 'em to the office and we'll use 'em every time." So I sought the woodland wild, dressed in my summer wear, To draw some inspiration from the sunshine and the air; But ere I wrote a dozen lines about the bosky glen A blizzard came and froze the ink within my fountain pen; The wind blew through my garments, so gauzy and so brief, My ears got blue and wilted like a frosted pumpkin leaf; I had to hire a plumber to come down to my place And set the heater up for me so I could thaw my face. My rythmical effusion I proudly took to town But when the printer read it he calmly threw it down. Quoth he: "That stuff you've written is sadly out of date. The trouble is you brought it in about a day too late." __Albert Stroud. |
Verdigris Valley Verse
Albert Stroud
(Coffeyville, Kansas: The Journal Press. 1917)
Page 17
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