Poems (Merrill)/The Poetry Machine
THE POETRY MACHINE
Pray, have you ever heard about— Or have you ever seen That Pearl of Ingenuity— A Poetry Machine? The wonderous thing is fashioned With most exquisite skill; Designed precisely to obey The operator's will.
When touched by "Muse's" magic wand The thought-waves throb and spout; Then, by the turning of the crank It grinds the verses out.—The sweet, poetic stanzas Of equal length will be; Then, clipping off the ragged lines It makes a poem.—See?
And 'tis an elegant thing to have When you're "down in luck" you think—(And the only cost is a trivial sum Of some of your mental chink.) When e 'er the world seems going wrong And you your courage lose; Get out your "Poetry Machine" And drive away the "blues."
Just turn the crank—Sad thoughts will flee As the cog-wheels whirr and buzz,—There's naught can raise one's spirits up Like the "Verse Mill" always does! Let the rippling, rollicking rhymes roll out With a clamor, a clash, and a clang; Then punctuate each line with a laugh— Be one of the "Jolly Gang!"
There will steal a soothing sense supreme As we linger 'neath the spell,—As steal sweet strains from Seraphic Song Far o'er the Ocean's swell Or like soft breezes whispering O'er the sun-kissed, mossy bank,—With sweet, poetic fancies rife If we but turn the crank!