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Title: Publicity
Author: Edmund Vance Cooke [
More Titles by Cooke]
There's nothing like publicity
To further that lubricity
Which minted cartwheels need
To maximize their speed
In your direction.
True, some hydropathist of stocks,
Or one whose trade is picking locks,
May make objection:
Yet even those gentry always lurk
Where booming first has done its work.
Observe how oft some foreigner,
About the size of coroner,
Can sell L O R D
(Four letters, as you see,)
For seven numbers,
Because his trade-mark, thus devised,
Is advertised and advertised
Till it encumbers
The mental view, as though 't were some
Bald-headed brand of chewing-gum.
Study your own psychology!
See how some mere tautology
Of picture, or of print,
Has realized the glint
Of your good money.
How often have persistent views
Of one bare head sold you your shoes!
Which does seem funny;
And yet 'twas head-work, after all,
Which helped the shoe-man make his haul.
There's some obscure locality
In every man's mentality
Which, I am free to state,
I'd like to penetrate
For my felicity.
For now who gives a second look
When he perceives a POEM by Cooke?
But come publicity!
And then a poem by COOKE were seen
The first thing in the magazine!
[The end]
Edmund Vance Cooke's poem: Publicity
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