Page 101 - Four Famous American Writers: Washington Irving, Edgar Allan Poe, James Russell Lowell, Bayard Taylor

that I should not make farming the business of my life, I thrust into my
plans a slender wedge of hope that I might one day own a bit of ground, for

the luxury of having, if not the profit of cultivating, it. The aroma of the
sweet soil had tinctured my blood; the black mud of the swamp still stuck

to my feet."

After a few weeks of farm life he was apprenticed to a printer in West

Chester for a term of four years.

CHAPTER III

HIS FIRST POEM

It is the will and the spirit that makes every life seem happy or the reverse.

If Bayard Taylor had remained a farmer in Kennett Square all his life, he
would not have looked back on his early experiences with so much pleasure

as he did. Indeed, we may safely say that he would not have liked his life so
well at the time had it not been for his buoyant and hopeful nature, which
made him feel that he was destined for higher and better things, for a world

beyond the horizon.

Already he was a poet, with all a poet's aspirations and eagerness. A year
before he left the academy his first printed poem appeared in the Saturday
Evening Post of Philadelphia. It is not wonderful as poetry. Yet we read it

with interest, because it shows so plainly the earnest and ambitious, yet
cheerful, nature of the boy. He did not merely sit and hope; he was

determined to win his way. It is entitled, "Soliloquy of a Young Poet."

A dream!--a fleeting dream! Childhood has passed, with all its joy and

song, And my life's frail bark on youth's impetuous stream Is swiftly borne
along.

High hopes spring up within; Hopes of the future--thoughts of glory--fame,
Which prompt my mind to toil, and bid me win That dream-- a deathless

name.