Life, 1898-05-12 · page 5 of 20
Life — May 12, 1898 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "An Unwritten Poem" - Life Magazine Satire This page contains a humorous poem by Carolyn Wells about a poet being pestered by various elements of nature to write verses about them instead of composing original work. A bird, a breeze, a spring, and flowers all interrupt the poet's attempt at creative writing, each demanding to be the subject of his next poem. The satire targets lazy or derivative poetry—the complaint that poets recycle hackneyed springtime and nature themes rather than developing fresh ideas. The illustrations show a frustrated poet being accosted by anthropomorphized natural elements, literalizing the poem's central joke about artistic interference and creative exhaustion. This reflects early 20th-century literary criticism dismissing sentimental nature poetry as clichéd and uninspired.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“LIFE: An Unwritten Poem. “ros this mossy bank I'll sit, within this flowery dell, It is the place by poets most preferred, And in a blithesome ballad I'll poetically tell The sentiments of yonder little bird. “O poet, spare me!” cried the bird, “I'm weary of this thing! Excuse me if I plainly speak my mind; But I've had my poem taken twenty-seven times this spring— Oh, let me go, if you will be so kind!” “Why, certainly,” the poet said, ‘it matters not to me, Another theme will just as well avail; Dll write a lyric poem on this budding apple-tree, Ora dithyrambic ode, beginning ‘ Hail!’ ” “T beg your pardon,” said the tree, “I pray you will desist, And seek some other victim, if you ple Pre had enough of ‘cheered by sun’ and ‘by the breezes kist.’” “TIL write, then,” said the poet, “of the breeze.” “Nay, poet,” sighed the weary breeze, “it makes me very tired To ‘toss the tresses of the trees’ in rhyme; Already since the first of May twelve poets I’ve inspired; I'll thank you if you'll let me off this time. “Don't mention it, { beg, O tree, of this fair flow’r I'll speak,” But the flower answered gaily, “I protest! I cannot pose for you, I’ve sat for poems all the week, And I really think I ought to have a rest.” “What can I do?” the poet cried; ‘ab! here is spring herself. Goddess! I pray you grant an interview— I'll place you in the public eye as fairy sprite or elf, Or write a stirring sonnet to your shoe.” “Ob, nonsense, poet!” cried the spring, “with that we can dis- pense; Why waste your time on hackneyed themes and trite? Come, go a-Maying with us, and when sun sets bie you hence, And write about the poem you didn’t write.” —Carolyn Wells, comicbooks.com