And now, for a few lines from a contemporary poet of Mark Twain, one Julia A. Moore:

HIRAM HELSEL
      Air -- "Three Grains of Corn"

Once was a boy, age fifteen years,
      Hiram Helsel was his name,
And he was sick two years or so;
      He has left this world of pain;
His friends they miss this lovely boy,
      That was patient, kind and brave.
He left them all for him to mourn --
      He is sleeping in his grave.

He was a small boy of his age,
      When he was five years or so
Was shocked by lightning while to play
      And it caused him not to grow,
He was called little Hi. Helsel
      By all friends that knew him well --
His life was sad, as you shall hear,
      And the truth to you I'll tell.

His parents parted when he was small,
      And both are married again.
How sad it was for them to meet
      And view his last remains.
He was living with his father then,
      As many a friend can tell;
'Tis said his father's second wife
      That she did not use him well.

Just before little Hiram died --
      His uncle and aunt were there --
He kissed them both -- bid them farewell,
      They left him with a prayer.
Now he is gone, Oh! let him rest;
      His soul has found a haven,
For grief and woe ne'er enters there,
      In that place called heaven.

Now, Mrs. Moore's esteemed contemporary, Mr. Clemens, also had some words on poetry. To whit:

I have thought many times since that if poets when they get discouraged would blow their brains out, they could write very much better when they got well.
                         - Speech, Liverpool, 7/10/1907