The Editor's Guests Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJK LMNN OOPPQQRRSSTTUUVVBB WWXXYYEEZZHH A2A2B2B2C2C2D2D2E2E2 HH F2F2G2G2H2H2I2I2J2J2 HH K2K2EEL2L2M2M2N2N2HH GGO2O2P2P2N2N2Q2Q2R2 R2H R2R2 R2R2 R2R2S2T2U2U2EED2D2V2 V2 W2W2 X2X2R2R2N2N2R2R2| The Editor sat in his sanctum his countenance furrowed with care | A |
| His mind at the bottom of business his feet at the top of a chair | A |
| His chair arm an elbow supporting his right hand upholding his head | B |
| His eyes on his dusty old table with different documents spread | B |
| There were thirty long pages from Howler with underlined capitals topped | C |
| And a short disquisition from Growler requesting his newspaper stopped | C |
| There were lyrics from Gusher the poet concerning sweet flow'rets and zephyrs | D |
| And a stray gem from Plodder the farmer describing a couple of heifers | D |
| There were billets from beautiful maidens and bills from a grocer or two | E |
| And his best leader hitched to a letter which inquired if he wrote it or who | E |
| There were raptures of praises from writers of the weakly mellifluous school | F |
| And one of his rival's last papers informing him he was a fool | F |
| There were several long resolutions with names telling whom they were by | G |
| Canonizing some harmless old brother who had done nothing worse than to die | G |
| There were traps on that table to catch him and serpents to sting and to smite him | H |
| There were gift enterprises to sell him and bitters attempting to bite him | H |
| There were long staring ads from the city and money with never a one | I |
| Which added Please give this insertion and send in your bill when you're done | I |
| There were letters from organizations their meetings their wants and their laws | J |
| Which said Can you print this announcement for the good of our glorious cause | K |
| There were tickets inviting his presence to festivals parties and shows | L |
| Wrapped in notes with Please give us a notice demurely slipped in at the close | M |
| In short as his eye took the table and ran o'er its ink spattered trash | N |
| There was nothing it did not encounter excepting perhaps it was cash | N |
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| The Editor dreamily pondered on several ponderous things | O |
| On different lines of action and the pulling of different strings | O |
| Upon some equivocal doings and some unequivocal duns | P |
| On how few of his numerous patrons were quietly prompt paying ones | P |
| On friends who subscribed just to help him and wordy encouragement lent | Q |
| And had given him plenty of counsel but never had paid him a cent | Q |
| On vinegar kind hearted people were feeding him every hour | R |
| Who saw not the work they were doing but wondered that printers are sour | R |
| On several intelligent townsmen whose kindness was so without stint | S |
| That they kept an eye out on his business and told him just what he should print | S |
| On men who had rendered him favors and never pushed forward their claims | T |
| So long as the paper was crowded with locals containing their names | T |
| On various other small matters sufficient his temper to roil | U |
| And finely contrived to be making the blood of an editor boil | U |
| And so one may see that his feelings could hardly be said to be smooth | V |
| And he needed some pleasant occurrence his ruffled emotions to soothe | V |
| He had it for lo on the threshold a slow and reliable tread | B |
| And a farmer invaded the sanctum and these are the words that he said | B |
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| Good mornin' sir Mr Printer how is your body to day | W |
| I'm glad you're to home for you fellers is al'ays a runnin' away | W |
| Your paper last week wa'n't so spicy nor sharp as the one week before | X |
| But I s'pose when the campaign is opened you'll be whoopin' it up to 'em more | X |
| That feller that's printin' The Smasher is goin' for you perty smart | Y |
| And our folks said this mornin' at breakfast they thought he was gettin' the start | Y |
| But I hushed 'em right up in a minute and said a good word for you | E |
| I told 'em I b'lieved you was tryin' to do just as well as you knew | E |
| And I told 'em that some one was sayin' and whoever 'twas it is so | Z |
| That you can't expect much of no one man nor blame him for what he don't know | Z |
| But layin' aside pleasure for business I've brought you my little boy Jim | H |
| And I thought I would see if you couldn't make an editor outen of him | H |
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| My family stock is increasin' while other folks' seems to run short | A2 |
| I've got a right smart of a family it's one of the old fashioned sort | A2 |
| There's Ichabod Isaac and Israel a workin' away on the farm | B2 |
| They do 'bout as much as one good boy and make things go off like a charm | B2 |
| There's Moses and Aaron are sly ones and slip like a couple of eels | C2 |
| But they're tol'able steady in one thing they al'ays git round to their meals | C2 |
| There's Peter is busy inventin' though what he invents I can't see | D2 |
| And Joseph is studyin' medicine and both of 'em boardin' with me | D2 |
| There's Abram and Albert is married each workin' my farm for myself | E2 |
| And Sam smashed his nose at a shootin' and so he is laid on the shelf | E2 |
| The rest of the boys are all growin' 'cept this little runt which is Jim | H |
| And I thought that perhaps I'd be makin' an editor outen o' him | H |
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| He ain't no great shakes for to labor though I've labored with him a good deal | F2 |
| And give him some strappin' good arguments I know he couldn't help but to feel | F2 |
| But he's built out of second growth timber and nothin' about him is big | G2 |
| Exceptin' his appetite only and there he's as good as a pig | G2 |
| I keep him a carryin' luncheons and fillin' and bringin' the jugs | H2 |
| And take him among the pertatoes and set him to pickin' the bugs | H2 |
| And then there is things to be doin' a helpin' the women indoors | I2 |
| There's churnin' and washin' of dishes and other descriptions of chores | I2 |
| But he don't take to nothin' but victuals and he'll never be much I'm afraid | J2 |
| So I thought it would be a good notion to larn him the editor's trade | J2 |
| His body's too small for a farmer his judgment is rather too slim | H |
| But I thought we perhaps could be makin' an editor outen o' him | H |
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| It ain't much to get up a paper it wouldn't take him long for to learn | K2 |
| He could feed the machine I'm thinkin' with a good strappin' fellow to turn | K2 |
| And things that was once hard in doin' is easy enough now to do | E |
| Just keep your eye on your machinery and crack your arrangements right through | E |
| I used for to wonder at readin' and where it was got up and how | L2 |
| But 'tis most of it made by machinery I can see it all plain enough now | L2 |
| And poetry too is constructed by machines of different designs | M2 |
| Each one with a gauge and a chopper to see to the length of the lines | M2 |
| And I hear a New York clairvoyant is runnin' one sleeker than grease | N2 |
| And a rentin' her heaven born productions at a couple of dollars apiece | N2 |
| An' since the whole trade has growed easy 'twould be easy enough I've a whim | H |
| If you was agreed to be makin' an editor outen of Jim | H |
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| The Editor sat in his sanctum and looked the old man in the eye | G |
| Then glanced at the grinning young hopeful and mournfully made his reply | G |
| Is your son a small unbound edition of Moses and Solomon both | O2 |
| Can he compass his spirit with meekness and strangle a natural oath | O2 |
| Can he leave all his wrongs to the future and carry his heart in his cheek | P2 |
| Can he do an hour's work in a minute and live on a sixpence a week | P2 |
| Can he courteously talk to an equal and browbeat an impudent dunce | N2 |
| Can he keep things in apple pie order and do half a dozen at once | N2 |
| Can he press all the springs of knowledge with quick and reliable touch | Q2 |
| And be sure that he knows how much to know and knows how to not know too much | Q2 |
| Does he know how to spur up his virtue and put a check rein on his pride | R2 |
| Can he carry a gentleman's manners within a rhinoceros' hide | R2 |
| Can he know all and do all and be all with cheerfulness courage and vim | H |
| If so we perhaps can be makin an editor 'outen of him ' | - |
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| The farmer stood curiously listening while wonder his visage o'erspread | R2 |
| And he said Jim I guess we'll be goin' he's probably out of his head | R2 |
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| But lo on the rickety stair case another reliable tread | R2 |
| And entered another old farmer and these are the words that he said | R2 |
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| Good morning sir Mr Editor how is the folks to day | R2 |
| I owe you for next year's paper I thought I'd come in and pay | R2 |
| And Jones is agoin' to take it and this is his money here | S2 |
| I shut down on lendin' it to him and coaxed him to try it a year | T2 |
| And here is a few little items that happened last week in our town | U2 |
| I thought they'd look good for the paper and so I just jotted 'em down | U2 |
| And here is a basket of cherries my wife picked expressly for you | E |
| And a small bunch of flowers from Jennie she thought she must send somethin' too | E |
| You're doin' the politics bully as all of our family agree | D2 |
| Just keep your old goose quill a floppin' and give 'em a good one for me | D2 |
| And now you are chuck full of business and I won't be takin' your time | V2 |
| I've things of my own I must 'tend to good day sir I b'lieve I will climb | V2 |
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| The Editor sat in his sanctum and brought down his fist with a thump | W2 |
| God bless that old farmer he muttered he's a regular Editor's trump | W2 |
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| And 'tis thus with our noble profession and thus it will ever be still | X2 |
| There are some who appreciate its labors and some who perhaps never will | X2 |
| But in the great time that is coming when loudly the trumpet shall sound | R2 |
| And they who have labored and rested shall come from the quivering ground | R2 |
| When they who have striven and suffered to teach and ennoble the race | N2 |
| Shall march at the front of the column each one in his God given place | N2 |
| As they pass through the gates of The City with proud and victorious tread | R2 |
| The editor printer and devil will travel not far from the head | R2 |
Will Carleton
(1)
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About The Editor's Guests
The Editor's Guests is a poem by Will Carleton. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.