EDITOR—"Have you submitted this poem anywhere else?"
EDITOR—"Then where did you get that black eye?"—Satire.
"Why is it," asked the persistent poetess, "that you always insist that we write on one side of the paper only? Why not on both?"
In that moment the editor experienced an access of courage—courage to protest against the accumulated wrongs of his kind.
"One side of the paper, madame," he made answer, "is in the nature of a compromise."
"A compromise. What we really desire, if we could have our way, is not one, or both, but neither."
Sir Lewis Morris was complaining to Oscar Wilde about the neglect of his poems by the press. "It is a complete conspiracy of silence against me, a conspiracy of silence.
What ought I to do, Oscar?" "Join it," replied Wilde.
God's prophets of the Beautiful,
These Poets were.—E.B. Browning.
We call those poets who are first to mark
Through earth's dull mist the coming of the dawn,—
Who see in twilight's gloom the first pale spark,
While others only note that day is gone.—O.W. Holmes.
An Italian poet presented some verses to the Pope, who had not gone far before he met with a line too short in quantity, which he remarked upon. The poet submissively entreated his holiness to read on, and he would probably meet with a line that was a syllable too long, so that the account would soon be balanced!
A certain Italian having written a book on the Art of making gold, dedicated it to Pope Leo X., in hopes of a good reward. His holiness finding the man constantly followed him, at length gave him a large empty purse, saying, "Sir, since you know how to make gold, you can have no need of anything but a purse to put it in."