Another poet of world-wide fame—Eugene Field—who was extremely discriminating in his friendships and exceedingly sparing of compliment, said: “’Gene Debs is the most lovable man I ever knew. Debs is sincere. His heart is as gentle as a woman’s and as fresh as a mountain brook. If Debs were a priest the world would listen to his eloquence, and that gentle, musical voice and sad, sweet smile of his would soften the hardest heart.”
There have been paid to Debs enough tender tributes in verse to fill a large volume. At one time when Riley was confined to his room by illness, Debs sent him a bouquet of the poet’s favorite flowers, which called forth the following appreciation:
THEM FLOWERS.
(To My Good Friend, Eugene V. Debs.)
Take a feller ’ats sick, and laid up on the shelf,
All shaky, and ga’nted and pore,
And all so knocked out he can’t handle hisself
With a stiff upper lip any more;
Shet him up all alone in the gloom of a room
As dark as a tomb, and as grim,