Wisconsin in Story and Song; / Selections from the Prose and Poetry of Badger State Writers

WILLIAM J. NEIDIG

Iowa and Illinois may rightly contest the claim of Wisconsin for a proprietary interest in Mr. William Jonathan Neidig. He was born in the first-named state, and is at present living in Chicago, where he is engaged in business, though he still finds time for an occasional story or poem. He was a member of the faculty in the English Department of the University of Wisconsin from 1905 to 1911, and it was during approximately this period of his life that his literary activity was greatest. "The First Wardens," which was nominated for the Nobel prize in idealistic literature, was published in 1905, and several critical works that attracted wide attention came from his pen during his Wisconsin residence.
The one poem which we quote here shows an evenness of power and an assurance of touch that mark real poetry. It also would be generally recognized, the editors feel, as having been written by a University man.

THE BUOY-BELL

From "THE FIRST WARDENS." Copyright, 1905, The Macmillan Co.

Bell! Bell!
Bell that rideth the breakers' crest,
Bell of the shallows, tell, O tell:
The swell and fall of foam on the sand,
Storm in the face from sea to land,
Roar of gray tempest: these, O bell,
What say these of the West?
Tell! O tell!

Bell! Bell!
Crowding the night with cries, O tell:
What of the moorings in the silt?
What of the blooms that drift and wilt?
What of the sea-chest wrenched wide?
Is it safe harbor by thy side?
Bell that rideth the breakers' crest,
What say these of the West?
Tell! O tell!

Bell! Bell!
It is a dirge the bell is tolling,
A dirge for the silent dead,—
With the cold sea rolling, rolling, rolling,
Rolling each restless head.
Bell that rideth the breakers' crest,
O, when will they lie all quietly,
Untossed by the slow sea-swell:
Nor breakers brave on the great sea-beach,
Nor ceaseless crash of the cresting sea,
Nor booming headland's sullen knell,
Nor bell, for elegy?
When is the last tide out of the West,
And the last restless dream for each?
Tell! O tell!

Toll! toll! toll!
Toll for the ebbing tide:
Toll for the lives that outward ride:
Toll for the deep-delved cold sea-seat:
Night in the West at every beat!
Toll! toll!

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