Poems (Merrill)/The Poetry Machine

by Clara A. Merrill

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!