THREE BOSTON POETS.
Throe poets went sailing down Boston streets All into the Bast as the sun went down, Bach felt that the editor loved him best And would welcome Spring poetry in Boston town Bor poets must write though the editors frown, Their esthetic natures will not be put down. While the harbor bar is moaning I Three editors climbed to the highest tower That they could find in all Boston town, And they planned to conceal themselves, hour after hour, Till the sun or the poets had both gone down, For spring poets must write, though the editors rage. The artistic spirit must thus be engaged— Though the editors all were groaning. Three corpses lay out on the Black Bay Sand, Just after the first spring sun went down, And the Press sat down to a banquet grand In honor of the poets, no more in town. For poets will write while editors sleep, Though they’ve nothing to earn and no one to keep ; And the harbor bar keeps moaning. —[Boston Traveller].
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/GLOBE18810616.2.14
Bibliographic details
Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2248, 16 June 1881, Page 3
Word Count
174THREE BOSTON POETS. Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2248, 16 June 1881, Page 3
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