Volume 102 — STUDIES IN THE NEW POETRY.
Reading edition
No. II.
MR. PUNCH's first example of the New Poetry was, it may be remembered, in the rhymed, irregular style. It is not a difficult style. The lines may be long or short; some may groan under an accumulation of words, while others consist of merely two or three—a most unfair distribution. The style of the following specimen, (also by Mr. H-NL-Y) is, however, even easier to manage. There are no rhymes and very few restrictions. The lines are very short, and a few words, therefore, go a very long way, which is always a consideration, even if you don't happen to be paid by the column. This style is very fierce and bloodthirsty and terrible. Timid people are, therefore, advised, for the sake of their nerves, not to read any farther.
THE SONG OF THE POKER.
The Poker, Clanging. I am the Poker the straight and the strong, Prone in the fire grate, Black at the nether end, Knobby and nebulous. Fashioned for fight In the Pit Acherontic: Many have grappled me, Poised me and thrust me Into the glowing, The flashing and furious Heart of the fire. Raked with me, prized with me, Till on a sudden Besparked and encircled With Welsh or with Wallsend, Shattering, battering They drew me away. Others in rivalry, Thinking to better The previous performance, Seized me again; Pushed with a leverage Hard on the haft of me, Till with the shocks Sank the red fire, Shivered and sank Subdued into blackness. That is my Toil; I am the Poker. Oh, and the burglar's head Often hath felt me, Hard, undesirable Cracker of craniums. I have drunk of the blood, The red blood, the life-blood Of the wife of the drunkard. Hoh! then, the glory. The joyous, ineffable Cup of fulfilment, When the policeman, Tall with a bull's-eye, Took me and shook me, Produced me in evidence, There in the dim Unappeasable grisliness Of the Police-Court. Women to shrink at me, Men to be cursed with me, Bloodstained, contemptuous, Laid on the table. I am the Minister, Azrael's Minister. I am the Poker.
