{"id":8166,"date":"2022-05-09T01:00:00","date_gmt":"2022-05-09T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newspaperhistory.com\/?p=8166"},"modified":"2022-05-09T01:00:00","modified_gmt":"2022-05-09T05:00:00","slug":"the-face-on-the-floor","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/the-face-on-the-floor\/","title":{"rendered":"The Face On the Floor"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

From the <\/em>Newark Evening Star, May 9, 1914<\/em><\/a>. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2019Twas a balmy summer evening, and a goodly crowd was there,
Which well-nigh filled Joe\u2019s barroom, on the corner of the square;
And as songs and witty stories came through the open door,
A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere did it come from?\u201d someone said. \u201cThe wind has blown it in.\u201d
\u201cWhat does it want?\u201d another cried. \u201cSome whiskey, rum or gin?\u201d
\u201cHere, Toby, seek him, if your stomach\u2019s equal to the work\u2014
I wouldn’t touch him with a fork, he\u2019s filthy as a Turk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This badinage the poor wretch took with stoical good grace\u2014
In fact, he smiled as though he thought he\u2019d struck the proper place;
\u201cCome, boys, I know there\u2019s kindly hearts among so good a crowd\u2014
To be in such good company would make a deacon proud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGive me a drink\u2014that\u2019s what I want\u2014I\u2019m out of funds, you know.
When I had cash to treat the gang, this hand was never slow;
What? You laugh as if you thought this pocket never held a sou.
I once was fixed as well, my boys, as any one of you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere, thanks, that\u2019s braced me nicely; God bless you one and all.
Next time I pass this good saloon, I\u2019ll make another call;
Give you a song? No, I can\u2019t do that; my singing days are past,
My voice is cracked, my throat\u2019s worn out, and my lungs are going fast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSay, give me another whiskey, and I\u2019ll tell you what I\u2019ll do\u2014
I\u2019ll tell you a funny story, and a fact, I promise, too;
That I was ever a decent man, not one of you would think,
But I was, some four or five years back. Say, give us another drink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFill her up, Joe; I want to put some life into my frame\u2014
Such little drinks to a bum like me are miserably tame;
Five fingers\u2014there, that\u2019s the scheme\u2014and corking whiskey, too.
Well, here\u2019s luck, boys, and landlord, my best regards to you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve treated me very kindly, and I\u2019d like to tell you how
I came to be the dirty sot you see before you now.
As I told you, once I was a man, with muscle, frame, and health,
And, but for a blunder, ought to have made considerable wealth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was a painter\u2014not one that daubed on bricks and wood,
But an artist, and for my age, was rated pretty good;
I worked hard at my canvas, and was bidding fair to rise,
For gradually I saw the star of fame before my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI made a picture perhaps you\u2019ve seen, \u2019tis called the Chase of Fame.
It brought me fifteen hundred pounds, and added to my name;
And then I met a woman\u2014now comes the funny part\u2014
With eyes that petrified my brain, and sunk into my heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you laugh? \u2019Tis funny that the vagabond you see
Could ever love a woman, and expect her love for me;
But \u2019twas so, and for a month or two, her smile was freely given,
And when her loving lips touched mine, it carried me to Heaven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBoys, did you ever see a girl for whom your soul you\u2019d give,
With a form like Milo Venus, too beautiful to live;
With eyes that would beat the Kohinoor, and a wealth of chestnut hair?
If so, \u2019twas she, for there never was another half so fair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was working on a portrait, one afternoon in May,
Of a fair-haired boy, a friend of mine, who lived across the way;
And Madeline admired it, and much to my surprise,
Said that she\u2019d like to know the man that had such dreamy eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt didn\u2019t take long to know him, and before the month had flown,
My friend had stole my darling, and I was left alone;
And ere a year of misery had passed above my head,
The jewel I had treasured so had tarnished and was dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s why I took to drink, boys. Why, I never saw you smile,
I thought you\u2019d be amused and laughing all the while;
Why, what\u2019s the matter, friend? There\u2019s a tear-drop in your eye.
Come, laugh like me, \u2019tis only babes and women that should cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSay, boys, if you give me another whiskey I\u2019ll be glad,
And I\u2019ll draw right here a picture of the face that drove me mad;
Give me that piece of chalk with which you mark the baseball score\u2014
You shall see the lovely Madeline upon the barroom floor.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another drink, and with chalk in hand, the vagabond began
To sketch a face that well might buy the soul of any man.
Then, as he placed another lock upon the shapely head,
With a fearful shriek, he leaped and fell across the picture\u2014dead.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

From the Newark Evening Star, May 9, 1914.  \u2019Twas a balmy summer evening, and a goodly crowd was there,Which well-nigh filled Joe\u2019s barroom, on the corner of the square;And as songs and witty stories came through the open door,A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor. \u201cWhere did it come from?\u201d someone said. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[35,3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8166","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-newark-evening-star","category-newspapers"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8166","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8166"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8166\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8166"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8166"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8166"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}