From The Sun, January 29, 1915. By H. S. Haskins.
With travel stained feet
Stands the lonesome youth
One hour long
In the library booth.
Bending, homesick,
All the while
Over a blessed
Newspaper file.
Homely old paper,
Looks to me;
Banal and trite,
It seems to be,
But watch his eyes scan it
Up and down,
Blessed old paper
From the blessed home town.
Type is shabby
And ink is poor.
Has a colored supplement
For a lure;
Gives advice to girls
And hints on dress,
Steers new married couples
To happiness;
Yet in the trite sheet
A vista lies
Of the Somewhere Else
To those homesick eyes,
Of the Somewhere Else
With its memories sweet
To the lonesome youth
With the travel stained feet.
Leave a Reply