(_Clipping from New York Socialist, June 20, 1908._)
An infallible instinct for heart-analysis appears to be an attribute of
the poets. For the most part they possess an unfailing judgment of
character-worth, and whomsoever they know well and call good is apt to
be a pretty safe pilgrim to tie to. President Roosevelt, of vituperative
vocabulary, may loudly denounce him as an “undesirable citizen,” but
when the poets with deeper discernment and prophetic vision pronounce
him a “desirable citizen” they voice the sure verdict of the justifying
years.
To Eugene V. Debs have the poets been especially kind, for in him have
they recognized a kindred spirit. In him they have detected the true
impulse of the brotherhood, concerning which no poet can well be
deceived. They have found that his mind is a garden in bloom, and that
his soul is filled with fragrance. So right blithely have they sung him
of their best, and many of Fame’s favorites have been proud to call him
friend—they who “sit at wine with the Maidens Nine and the gods of the
elder days.”
It was James Whitcomb Riley who thus characteristically expressed
himself concerning this beloved Apostle of Advancement:
“God was feeling mighty good when he created ’Gene Debs, and He didn’t
have anything else to do all day.”
Another poet of world-wide fame—Eugene Field—who was extremely
discriminating in his friendships and exceedingly sparing of compliment,
said: “’Gene Debs is the most lovable man I ever knew. Debs is sincere.
His heart is as gentle as a woman’s and as fresh as a mountain brook. If
Debs were a priest the world would listen to his eloquence, and that
gentle, musical voice and sad, sweet smile of his would soften the
hardest heart.”
There have been paid to Debs enough tender tributes in verse to fill a
large volume. At one time when Riley was confined to his room by
illness, Debs sent him a bouquet of the poet’s favorite flowers, which
called forth the following appreciation: