Paying Homage To Those Magnificently Talented But Lesser Known Poets

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mildred_Plew_Meigs

Mildred Plew Meigs (born Mildred Plew) was an American poet, author of poems. Born to Chicago financier James E. Plew and Nettie Plew (nee Raymond), Mildred spent her adult life in Valparaiso, Florida. Mildred is most famous for her poem, "The Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee", which she published in Child Life Magazine in a 1923 issue.

Her first published book, The Road To Raffydiddle is dated 1913, and features illustrations by Frank Aloise.[3]

She contributed dozens of poems to Child Life Magazine, Harper's, Motion Picture,[4] Poetry, and other lifestyle magazines, and is credited as the author of six children's books.[5]

Mildred Plew Meigs died 1944, February 22, in her home in Valparaiso, Florida.[2]

Silver Ships
by Mildred Plew Merryman


There are trails that a lad may follow

When the years of his boyhood slip,



But I shall soar like a swallow

On the wings of a silver ship,



Guiding my bird of metal,



One with her throbbing frame,

Floating down like a petal,



Roaring up like a flame;

Winding the wind that scatters



Smoke from the chimney's lip,

Tearing the clouds to tatters



With the wings of a silver ship;



Grazing the broad blue sky light



Up where the falcons fare,

Riding the realms of twilight,



Brushed by a comet's hair;

Snug in my coat of leather,



Watching the skyline swing,

Shedding the world like a feather



From the tip of a tilted wing.

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Moon Song

by Mildred Plew Merryman



Zoon, zoon, cuddle and croon —



Over the crinkling sea,

The moon man flings him a silvered net



Fashioned of moonbeams three.



And some folk say when the net lies long

And the midnight hour is ripe;



The moon man fishes for some old song

That fell from a sailor's pipe.



And some folk say that he fishes the bars

Down where the dead ships lie,



Looking for lost little baby stars

That slid from the slippery sky.



And the waves roll out and the waves roll in

And the nodding night wind blows,



But why the moon man fishes the sea

Only the moon man knows.



Zoon, zoon, net of the moon



Rides on the wrinkling sea;

Bright is the fret and shining wet,



Fashioned of moonbeams three.



And some folk say when the great net gleams

And the waves are dusky blue,



The moon man fishes for two little dreams

He lost when the world was new.



And some folk say in the late night hours

While the long fin'shadows slide,



The moon man fishes for cold sea flowers

Under the tumbling tide.



And the waves roll out and the waves roll in

And the gray gulls dip and dose,



But why the moon man fishes the sea

Only the moon man knows.



Zoon, zoon, cuddle and croon —



Over the crinkling sea,

The moon man flings him a silvered net



Fashioned of moonbeams three.



And some folk say that he follows the flecks

Down where the last light flows,



Fishing for two round gold'rimmed "specs"

That blew from his button4ike nose.



And some folk say while the salt sea foams



And the silver net lines snare,

The moon man fishes for carven combs



That float from the mermaids' hair.



And the waves roll out and the waves roll in

And the nodding night wind blows,



But why the moon man fishes the sea

Only the moon man knows.

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Another great poet I recently discovered.
One that deserves much greater recognition imho..-Tyr