Thursday, June 5, 2008

To E. F.


I know a western hickory,
Of outside weather brown and rough
But all within that firm set tree
Is clearest fiber, white and tough,
And stuff is there for shaft or bow,
For sturdy helve or stubborn bar;
Fair carving will it take and show
How fine and firm its secrets are.

I know a singer in the west,
And songs he sings in many a key,
And childhood is the strain that best
Becomes his cunning minstrelsy.
Minor and merry chords are there,
And smiles and tears his measures yield,
But strong or tender, everywhere
He is himself. His name is ——.

— Chap Book.

Note: This concerns poet Eugene Field.

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