The Writer Of Many Books

Poem 'The Writer Of Many Books' from <The Sea> - collection of poems - by James Oppenheim

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                    <date>2019</date>
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                <publisher>University of Nebraska&#8211;Lincoln</publisher>
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                        <addrLine>319 Love Library</addrLine>
                        <addrLine>University of Nebraska&#8211;Lincoln</addrLine>
                        <addrLine>Lincoln, NE 68588-4100</addrLine>
                        <addrLine>jeff3647@gmail.com</addrLine>
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                <date>2019</date>
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                    <p>Copyright &#169; 2019 by Jeffrey Park </p>
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                    <author>James Oppenheim</author>
                    <date when="2403">March 1924</date>
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                    <publisher>Alfred A. Knoff, INC.</publisher>
                    <pubPlace>New York</pubPlace>
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            <ab>THE WRITER OF MANY BOOKS</ab>
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                <l>THE writer of many books was weary:</l>
                <l>"Enough of ink!" said he, "Enough of words!</l>
                <l>Would I were a builder of bridges or breaker of stones . . .</l>
                <l>Then at least something real were done . . ."</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type = "stanza">
                <l>Out on lonely farm in Montana, at the close of day,</l>
                <l>The woman brooding toward intansity,</l>
                <l>Lit a lamp, and looked in his book: and the tears came:</l>
                <l>And the ice-pack round her heart melted down in a
                    <space/><lb/>torrent . . .</l>
                <l>Blessed release!</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type = "stanza">
                <l>Far in Texas a tubercular boy was plotting a marriage,</l>
                <l>But he read the tale, and his heart tbroke in his breast . . .</l>
                <l>"I shall not send my blight on the unborn babe,"</l>
                <l>So he wrote the author,</l>
                <l>"No: I am off to Arizona tomorrow."</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type = "stanza">
                <l>In a New York hall room a girl was dreaming of suicide,</l>
                <l>She read his words, and as to a call of trumpets her soul rose
                    <space/><lb/>and went forth . . .</l>
            </lg>
            <lg type = "stanza">
                <l>A seed so small that the eye misses it</l>
                <l>Starts in the womb the growth of a human child . . .</l>
                <l>Ye that scatter the seed of words, scorn not the sowing,</l>
                <l>Nor the Master that sent ye out in the barren fields.</l>
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The Sea 2019 University of Nebraska–Lincoln Center for Digital Research in the Humanities
319 Love Library University of Nebraska–Lincoln Lincoln, NE 68588-4100 jeff3647@gmail.com
2019

Copyright © 2019 by Jeffrey Park

The Sea; 1924 The Sea James Oppenheim March 1924 Alfred A. Knoff, INC. New York

Jeffrey Park Transcribed and encoded a poem view page image(s) THE WRITER OF MANY BOOKS THE writer of many books was weary: "Enough of ink!" said he, "Enough of words! Would I were a builder of bridges or breaker of stones . . . Then at least something real were done . . ." Out on lonely farm in Montana, at the close of day, The woman brooding toward intansity, Lit a lamp, and looked in his book: and the tears came: And the ice-pack round her heart melted down in a torrent . . . Blessed release! 5 Far in Texas a tubercular boy was plotting a marriage, But he read the tale, and his heart tbroke in his breast . . . "I shall not send my blight on the unborn babe," So he wrote the author, "No: I am off to Arizona tomorrow." 5 In a New York hall room a girl was dreaming of suicide, She read his words, and as to a call of trumpets her soul rose and went forth . . . A seed so small that the eye misses it Starts in the womb the growth of a human child . . . Ye that scatter the seed of words, scorn not the sowing, Nor the Master that sent ye out in the barren fields. 230

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The Sea 2019 University of Nebraska–Lincoln Center for Digital Research in the Humanities
319 Love Library University of Nebraska–Lincoln Lincoln, NE 68588-4100 jeff3647@gmail.com
2019

Copyright © 2019 by Jeffrey Park

The Sea; 1924 The Sea James Oppenheim March 1924 Alfred A. Knoff, INC. New York

Jeffrey Park Transcribed and encoded a poem THE WRITER OF MANY BOOKS THE writer of many books was weary: "Enough of ink!" said he, "Enough of words! Would I were a builder of bridges or breaker of stones . . . Then at least something real were done . . ." Out on lonely farm in Montana, at the close of day, The woman brooding toward intansity, Lit a lamp, and looked in his book: and the tears came: And the ice-pack round her heart melted down in a torrent . . . Blessed release! Far in Texas a tubercular boy was plotting a marriage, But he read the tale, and his heart tbroke in his breast . . . "I shall not send my blight on the unborn babe," So he wrote the author, "No: I am off to Arizona tomorrow." In a New York hall room a girl was dreaming of suicide, She read his words, and as to a call of trumpets her soul rose and went forth . . . A seed so small that the eye misses it Starts in the womb the growth of a human child . . . Ye that scatter the seed of words, scorn not the sowing, Nor the Master that sent ye out in the barren fields. 230