St Ignatius College - Ignatian Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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- A KIND WORD 31 who pitied his misfortunes and lauded his pen. One of these writes, I can sincerely say that although I have frequently heard of aberrations on his part from the straight and narrow path, I have never known him otherwise than gentle, well bred, and fastidiously refined. One thing, however, is cer- tain, that although many of the early critics of Edgar Allen Poe, themselves while alive aspiring to an author's immortal- ity, have sunk beneath time's wide horizon never to reappear, the poetry of this somewhat meteoric genius and wandering star have been more than sufficient to enlist the sympathy of mankind and to perpetuate his fame. A iltlinh math By CAROLAN S. CRONIN Y Twas a Word in kindness spoken, To a heart near spent with grief. Twas a word in kindness spoken, To a soul that sought relief In the hour of trial and pain. ! 'Twas a word in kindness spoken, And it comfort brought and rest. 'Twas a word in kindness spoken, And a suiTerer's heart it blest In the hour of trial and pain.

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inning., 30 THE IGNATIAN and spirit of the piece, has entered into all those finer fancies and deeper feelings with which Poe must have been inspired, and he has made a setting of sad and lingering love with dreams of fearsome sublimity that should heighten our ap- preciation of any such piece of literature. Another poem famous for its variety of musical lines is The Bells. In the first stanza the bells tinkle out a sprightly merriment while they hurry us swiftly over frozen fields under the studded canopy of night. The second with its mellow How deals with true happiness and love. We are all familiar with the brazen and terrifying fire bells of the third stanza, producing much of sound and little of thought. This and the last stanza bring to a rather sombre hnish a poem that starts out so delightfully frolicsome. Poe shows himself in this wonderful piece to be a master of words. The chief ornaments of Annabel Lee, the poem of sweet- ness, are the unvarnished graces of naturalness and simplicity. Neither is music wanting. Note the running melody of the following lines: And neither the angels in heaven Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. Here alliteration is displayed in its most universal connection conveying the poet's sweet sadness to those who are capable of its reception. For those who have eyes to see and ears to hear, this line: In a kingdom by the sea, contains a world of poetic suggestiong it makes sweet pictures float before the eye of the imagination, and flings out sweeter music to accompany its fairy dream. But Poe was criticized in his dayg what writer of note has not beenlby his smaller contemporaries, lesser lights whom Elie .burning of the brighter planet turns pale-which they egiudge, becoming splenetic. Still the poet had always I even through llfe. a large circle of friends and admirers,

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Shnrtgfn Gllaim By DARRELL W. DALY EK , OU'VE read of those rough old mining towns of the early fifties, the sort that had a half dozen family liquor stores and a general merchandise establishment Well that was the kind of a place Lone Dog was at least Q A . , ' V d H f i r there p , N to all outwar appearances. ou eve was something a little different about this annex of God's dominion, or at least about its inhabitants, which will come out later. Before the hand of fate, as some folks call it, had led a hundred or so gold-thirsty miners out there with the idea that there were nuggets lying around on the ground, the little district now known as Lone Dog had been an unin- habited flat of land, dotted here and there by an unhealthy looking clump of sagebrush, and forsaken even by wild animals. Along about the time of the gold rush in California, some trick of fortune led a prospector by the name of Aleck Peterson to locate in that district to pan for gold. As he was first settler, I suppose Lone Dog would have been named Petersonburg or something of the like, if he hadn't had a pretty good opinion of himself. Peterson was an odd sort of fellow, rather of the hermit style. The nearest settlement to where he was located, was ten miles away, and whenever ,he came in for provisions he got what he was after and started right back again. Anyone could plainly see that he didn't care for the companionship of his fellow men, and as for the women folks-well, I guess he would have pretty near dropped dead if he had had to speak to one of them. One day he came rushing into the nearest camp, wild- f'YCd and exfifed, Waving a bag of dust and nuggets over his head. Gold he had, that was certain, and the crowd that