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Show MILFORD'S LADY POET GAINS RECOGNITION Some weeks since, the News mentioned men-tioned the fact that Mrs. Julia A. Sniithson of this city had been elected elect-ed a member o the select and talented tal-ented "Southern CaliCornia Verse Writers' Club." The Salt Lake Tribune of yesterday has the following follow-ing complimentary mention of the matter together with several verses of the poem which Mrs. Smithson submitted to the Club when elected to membership: Poem Wins Honors Beaver, Utah, Sept. -12. Mrs. Dan W. Smithson, a Milford woman, has taken her place, with authors. Mrs. Smithson recently submitted a poem to the "Southern California Verse Writers' Club," which grants memberships mem-berships wholly upon merit and the excellence of the entries. The board of critics, in passing upon the poem, pronounced it "very beautiful" and issued the author a membership card. The ' "Southern California Verse Writers' Club" ranks high throughout America and ' has for members many of the foremost verse writers of the country, including Edwin Ed-win Markham. Mrs. Smithson's latest contribution is a stirring war poem, "Columbia Swift to the Rescue Res-cue Flees," which is noteworthy for the courageous spirit which permeates perme-ates it, since Mrs. Smithson is, the mother of two sons now in the army. Following is the poem which gained such favorable notice from the board of critics: Boy of Mine By Julia A. Smithson Boy of mine with Irish eyes As darkly gray as winter skies, But yestermorn a lullaby I crooned for you and you did lie, In downy nest So fair at rest, Oh, infant boy of mine. The happy years rolled by apace, And, lo! a man with boyish face, -Wistful and strangely turned to me, O'ershadowed by parting soon to be, Your speech for aye, Of lands away, Oh, restless boy of mine. And then you rode one summer night Out of my life in the pale moonlight. With never a kiss on my waiting lips, Nor handclasp warm to the fingertips, finger-tips, To tell my heart That we must part; Oh, truant boy of mine. Do you hear your mother's tender call, Or ween the tears which ever fall, Weaving their dark, funereal spell At noontide glow or vesper bell, Or where I sit At eve fire-lit, Oh, comrade boy of mine? llo you revel where wine cups glimmer glim-mer red. To wake and to weep o'er bright hopes fled? Are you feasting in palace when twilight twi-light wanes. Or crying for bread in .darksome lanes? Oh, to behold you Tonight and enfold you. Southern boy of mine. Did you sail afar over the foaming . main To Old World shores where chaos reigns, Marching where war's wild music led, And are you numbered with the dead, Across the line, A trailing vine, ' ' Oh, soldier boy of mine? I yearn for you at morn's first break When the bluebird calls Awake! Awake! And pray for you at midnight's hour, When the owlet's dirge haunts tree . and tower; Oh, love divine, Thine arms entwine This wandering boy of mine. |
