Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CERTAIN LIMITATIONS OF THE RELIGIOUS PRESS, by AMOS RUSSEL WELLS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CERTAIN LIMITATIONS OF THE RELIGIOUS PRESS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: My neighbor brown, of grindertown
Last Line: Hurrah for the christian times!
Subject(s): Religious Press


My neighbor Brown, of Grindertown,
Is an editor as I am.
Like mine his work, which he dare not shirk,
Is a dozen hours per diem.
But we are as far as the earth and a star,
And we live in different climes,
For he and his folks run The Daily Hoax,
And I run The Christian Times.

My neighbor Brown may knock a man down
With his editorial bludgeon;
He may call him a liar, balloon-headed flier,
Rapscallion, pick-pocket, curmudgeon.
But I mustn't fight, for it wouldn't be right,
Though with popular fancy it chimes,
For what are mere jokes in The Daily Hoax
Are sins in The Christian Times.

My neighbor Brown gets heaps of renown
For his bushels of criminal details,
The gossip and slander that coil and meander
Through all of the news that he retails.
But I mustn't do it, I surely should rue it,
Though common folks dearly love crimes,
For the popular strokes of The Daily Hoax
Would be death to The Christian Times.

My neighbor Brown may startle the town
With statements thrilling or silly;
They may all be denied and disproved and defied,
But he need not retract them, nor will he.
But if I decline an inch from the line
That with strict exactitude rhymes,
Not mine are the cloaks of The Daily Hoax;
Good-by to The Christian Times.

My neighbor Brown is likely to drown
In the floods of ads that he carries,
And they may defraud and cheat and maraud,
But no one frets him or harries.
But the lean little ad that makes my heart glad
Some critic austerely begrimes;
For no one invokes for The Daily Hoax
The tests of The Christian Times.

So what is left for The Christian Times,
If it cannot indulge in a fist-fight,
Or yell for a party, or root for McCarty,
Or tell, when a maiden is kissed right?
Ah, what is left if we are bereft
Of those needful advertisement shekels,
If we must be guyed by the rich Mr. Hyde,
And remain impecunious Jekylls?

Well, this is left for The Christian Times,
And in faith it is not a bad leaving, --
To turn a stout back on the knave and the quack,
And be done with pretence and deceiving;
To be merrily fed on a crust of bread
That is buttered with honesty only;
To grin and to bear the blessedest care,
And never be fearful or lonely.

And this is left for The Christian Times,
In lieu of triumphant sensations:
To picture God's will as it comes to fulfil
The joy of His germinant nations;
To comfort the sad, exult with the glad,
Support the old and the weary,
To animate youth with a passion for truth,
And banish whatever is dreary.

To know that the world is richly impearled
With a love that conquers all trials;
To know that the right will win the long fight
With selfishness, doubt, and denials;
Ah, this to the crest of the wealthily blest,
To the top of prosperity climbs!
Who yearns for the yokes of The Daily Hoax?
Hurrah for The Christian Times!





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