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About this poet

Alexander Posey, born August 3, 1873, was a Muskogee Creek poet, journalist, and humorist known for his poems and Fus Fixico letters, a series of satirical letters written from his fictional persona, Fus Fixico, that commented on local and national politics of the time. He served as the editor for the Eufaula Indian Journal before passing away on May 27, 1908. The posthumous The Poems of Alexander Lawrence Posey (Crane Printers), which was collected and arranged by Posey's wife, was published in 1910.

The Conquerors

The Caesars and the Alexanders were
But men gone mad, who ran about a while
Upsetting kingdoms, and were slain in turn
Like rabid dogs, or died in misery.
Assassins laid in wait for Caesar; wine,
Amid the boasts of victory, cut short
The glory of the Macedonian;
Deception cooled the fever Pompey had;
Death was dealt to Phyrrus by a woman’s
Hand; Themistocles and Hannibal drank
Deep of poison in their desolation.

From The Poems of Alexander Lawrence Posey (Crane & Co., 1910). This poem is in the public domain.

From The Poems of Alexander Lawrence Posey (Crane & Co., 1910). This poem is in the public domain.

Alexander Posey

Alexander Posey

Alexander Posey, born August 3, 1873, was a Muskogee Creek poet, journalist, and humorist known for his poems and Fus Fixico letters.

by this poet

poem
There is more glory in a drop of dew,
    That shineth only for an hour,
Than there is in the pomp of earth’s great Kings
    Within the noonday of their power.

There is more sweetness in a single strain
    That falleth from a wild bird’s throat,
At random in the lonely forest’s depths,
    Than there’s in all
poem

    Tired at length of crying,
    Laughing, cooing, sighing,
The baby lies so qui’t and still,
    Scarce breathing in his sleep;
The mother watches, half-inclined
    To hide her face and weep.

poem

I’ve seen the beauty of the rose,
I’ve heard the music of the bird,
And given voice to my delight;
I’ve sought the shapes that come in dreams,
I’ve reached my hands in eager quest,
To fold them empty to my breast;
While you, the whole of all I’ve sought—
The love, the beauty, and