"I suppose that I'd do the greater good in the long run by making my work as good poetry as possible."
* * *
Of course I deplore your tendency to dalliance with the demagogic muse. I hope you will not set your feet in the dirty paths—leading nowhither—of social and political "reform".... I hope you will not follow * * * in making a sale of your poet's birthright for a mess of "popularity." If you do I shall have to part company with you, as I have done with him and at least one of his betters, for I draw the line at demagogues and anarchists, however gifted and however beloved.
Let the "poor" alone—they are oppressed by nobody but God. Nobody hates them, nobody despises. "The rich" love them a deal better than they love one another. But I'll not go into these matters; your own good sense must be your salvation if you are saved. I recognise the temptations of environment: you are of San Francisco, the paradise of ignorance, anarchy and general yellowness. Still, a poet is not altogether the creature of his place and time—at least not of his to-day and his parish.
By the way, you say that * * * is your only associate that knows anything of literature. She is a dear girl, but look out for her; she will make you an anarchist if she can, and persuade you to kill a President or two every fine morning. I warrant you she can pronounce the name of McKinley's assassin to the ultimate zed, and has a little graven image of him next her heart.
Yes, you can republish the Memorial Day poem without the Post's consent—could do so in "book form" even if the Post had copyrighted it, which it did not do. I think the courts have held that in purchasing work for publication in his newspaper or magazine the editor acquires no right in it, except for that purpose. Even if he copyright it that is only to protect him from other newspapers or magazines; the right to publish in a book remains with the author. Better ask a lawyer though—preferably without letting him know whether you are an editor or an author.
I ought to have answered (as well as able) these questions before, but I have been ill and worried, and have written few letters, and even done little work, and that only of the pot-boiling sort.
My daughter has recovered and returned to Los Angeles.
Please thank Miss * * * for the beautiful photographs—I mean for being so beautiful as to "take" them, for doubtless I owe their possession to you.
I wrote Doyle about you and he cordially praised your work as incomparably superior to his own and asked that you visit him. He's a lovable fellow and you'd not regret going to Santa Cruz and boozing with him.