X w RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD TOflifcomfi (KCfe^ NEGHBORLY POEMS SKETCHES IN PROSE WITH INTERLUDING VERSES AFTERWHILES PIPES O PAN AT ZEKES- BURY. (Prose and Verse) RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT GREEN FIELDS AND RUN NING BROOKS ARMAZINDY A CHILD-WORLD HOME-FOLKS HIS PA S ROMANCE (Portrait by Clay) _ GREENFIELD EDITION Sold only in sets. Eleven volumes uniformly bound in sage-green cloth, gilt top ........ ...... $18.50 The same in half-calf ...... 27.50 OLD-FASHIONED ROSES (English Edition) THE GOLDEN YEAR (English Edition) POEMS HERE AT HOME RUBAlYAT OF DOC SIFERS THE BOOK OF JOYOUS CHILDREN RILEY CHILD-RHYMES (Pictures by Vawter) RILEY LOVE-LYRICS (Pictures by Dyer) RILEY FARM-RHYMES (Pictures by Vawter) AN OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE (Pictures by Christy) OUT TO OLD AUNT MARY S (Pictures by Christy) A DEFECTIVE SANTA GLAUS (Forty Pictures by Relyea and Vawter) RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY INDIANAPOLIS THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1890, 1898, 1900, BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. PRESS OF BRAUNWORTH & CO. BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS BROOKLYN, N. Y. 5 TO THE LITTLE NEPHEW HENRY EDMUND EITEL 155580 PREFATORY NOTE IN presenting herein the child dialect upon an equal footing with the proper or more serious English, the conscientious author feels it neither his desire nor province to offer excuse. Wholly simple and artless, Nature s children oftentimes seem the more engaging for their very defects of speech and general deportment. We need worry very little for their futures since the All-Kind Mother has them in her keep. It is just and good to give the elegantly trained and educated child a welcome hearing. It is no less just and pleasant to admit his homely but wholesome-hearted little brother to our interest and love. J. W. R. UNIVERSITY ^i/FORt^ CONTENTS CHYMES OF CHILDHOOD PAGE The Eider of the Knee 2 A BOY S MOTHER 219 A CHILD S HOME LONG AGO 186 AN IMPETUOUS RESOLVE 178 A NONSENSE EHYME 167 A MOTHER-SONG 53 A PASSING HAIL 191 A PROSPECTIVE GLIMPSE s 161 A SLEEPING BEAUTY . . 210 A SUDDEN SHOWER 179 AT AUNTY S HOUSE 213 BABE HERRICK 120 BABYHOOD 105 BABY S DYING 93 BILLY COULD EIDB 199 BILLY GOODIN 189 BUSCH AND TOMMY 117 CHRISTINE BRAIBRY 78 CHRISTMAS AFTERTHOUGHT 27 CURLY LOCKS ,.,,,,, 163 DUSK-SONG THE BEETLE 103 ENVOY 232 EXCEEDING ALL .... 69 GRANDFATHER SQUEERS . . 124 GUINEY-PIGS 115 IX CONTENTS PAGE CALLED HER IN 151 His CHRISTMAS SLED 118 HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB 198 IN SWIMMING-TIME . 220 IN THE NIGHT 55 JACK-IN-THE-BOX 37 JOHN TARKINGTON JAMESON 113 LAWYER AND CHILD 68 LITTLE GIRLY-GIRL 35 LITTLE JOHNTS S CHRIS MUS 141 LITTLE MANDY S CHRISTMAS-TREE 136 LONGFELLOW S LOVE FOR THE CHILDREN ... 48 MABEL 33 MAX AND JIM 107 MCFEETERS FOURTH 133 MOTHER GOOSE 19 NAUGHTY CLAUDE 170 OLD MAN S NURSERY RHYME 96 N THE SUNNY SIDE 43 HIRED GIRL 229 PANSIES 13 PRIOR TO Miss BELLE S APPEARANCE .... 193 SHE " DISPLAINS " IT 202 SONG FOR NOVEMBER 196 SOME SCATTERING REMARKS OP BUB S .... 7 THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN 88 THE ALL-GOLDEN 45 THE BOY-FRIEND 157 THE BOY LIVES ON OUR FARM 225 THE BOYS 94 THE BOYS CANDIDATE 149 THE BROOK-SONG 85 THE BUMBLEBEE 150 CONTENTS PAGE THE CHRISTMAS LONG AGO 30 THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE 108 THE DAYS GONE BY 25 THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE PRINCESS .... 70 THE FISHING PARTY 223 THE FUNNIEST THING IN THE WORLD .... 140 THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW 56 THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE 20 THE HUNTER BOY 181 THE JOLLY MILLER 204 THE LAND OF THUS-AND-SO 121 THE LAND OF USED-TO-BE 74 THE LITTLE COAT 65 THE LITTLE-RED-APPLE TREE ....... 5 THE LITTLE TINY KICKSHAW 129 THE LUGUBRIOUS WHING- WHANG 130 THE MAN IN THE MOON 183 THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS 62 THE OLD HAY-MOW Ill THE OLD, OLD WISH 171 THE OLD TRAMP 162 THE ORCHARD LANDS OF LONG AGO 147 THE PET COON 165 THE PIXY PEOPLE 8 THE PRAYER PERFECT 52 THE PREACHER S BOY " 173 HE RAGGEDY MAN 217* THE ROBINS OTHER NAME 28 THE RUNAWAY BOY 227* THE SONG OF YESTERDAY 99 THE SQUIRT-GUN UNCLE MAKED MB 83* THE WAY THE BABY CAME 17 THE WAY THE BABY SLEPT . . 203 CONTENTS PAGE THE WAY THE BABY WOKE 132 THE WHITHERAWAYS 215 THE YOUTHFUL PRESS . . . 87 TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS 39 To HATTIE ON HER BIRTHDAY 29 TOMMY SMITH 3 UNCLE SIDNEY 12 UNCLE SIDNEY S VIEWS 5Q UNINTERPRETED 18 , WAITIN FER THE CAT TO DIE 14 WHEN EARLY MARCH SEEMS MIDDLE MAY . . 60 WHEN OUR BABY DIED 77 WHEN THE WORLD BU STS THROUGH 159 WINTER FANCIES 49 WITH THE CURRENT . , .207 21* RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD THE RIDER OF THE KNEE Knightly Rider of the Knee Of Proud-prancing Unclery ! Gaily mount, and wave the sign Of that mastery of thine. Pat thy steed and turn him free , Knightly Rider of the Knee! Sit thy charger as a throne Lash him with thy laugh alone: Sting him only with the spur Of such wit as may occur, Knightly Rider of the Knee, In thy shriek of ecstasy. Would, as now, we might endure, Twain as one thou miniature Ruler, at the rein of me Knightly Rider of the Kneel TOMMY SMITH DIMPLE-CHEEKED and rosy-lipped, With his cap-rim backward tipped, Still in fancy I can see Little Tommy smile on me Little Tommy Smith. Little unsung Tommy Smith Scarce a name to rhyme it with ; Yet most tenderly to me Something sings unceasingly Little Tommy Smith. On the verge of some far land Still forever does he stand, W r ith his cap-rim rakishly Tilted ; so he smiles on me * Little Tommy Smith. 3 TOMMY SMITH Elder-blooms contrast the grace Of the rover s radiant face Whistling back, in mimicry, "Old Bob White!" all liquidly Little Tommy Smith. O my jaunty statuette Of first love, I see you yet, Though you smile so mistily, It is but through tears I see, Little Tommy Smith. But, with crown tipped back behind, And the glad hand of the wind Smoothing back your hair, I see Heaven s best angel smile on me, Little Tommy Smith. THE LITTLE-RED-APPLE TREE THE Little-red-apple Tree ! O the Little-red-apple Tree ! When I was the little-est bit of a boy And you were a boy with me ! The bluebird s flight from the topmost boughs, And the boys up there so high That we rocked over the roof of the house And whooped as the winds went by ! Hey ! The Little-red-apple Tree ! With the garden-beds below, And the old grape-arbor so welcomely Hiding the rake and hoe ! Hiding, too, as the sun dripped through In spatters of wasted gold, Frank and Amy away from you And me in the days of old! 5 THE LITTLE-RED-APPLE TREE The Little-red-apple Tree ! In the edge of the garden-spot, Where the apples fell so lavishly Into the neighbor s lot ; So do I think of you alway, Brother of mine, as the tree, Giving the ripest wealth of your love To the world as well as me. Ho ! The Little-red-apple Tree ! Sweet as its juiciest fruit Spanged on the palate spicily, And rolled o er the tongue to boot? Is the memory still and the joy Of the Little-red-apple Tree, When I was the little-est bit of a boy And you were a boy with me ! SOME SCATTERING REMARKS OF BUB S WUNST I took our pepper-box lid An cut little pie-dough biscuits, I did, An cooked em on our stove one day When our hired girl she said I may. Honey 1 s the goodest thing Oo-ook ! An blackburry-pies is goodest, too ! But wite hot biscuits, ist soakin wet Wiv tree-mullasus, is goodest yet ! Miss Maimie she s my Ma s friend, an She s purtiest girl in all the Ian ! An sweetest smile an voice an face An eyes ist looks like p serves tas e ! I ruther go to the Circus-show ; But, cause my parunts told me so, I ruther go to the Sund y School, Cause there I learn the goldun rule. Say, Pa, what is the goldun rule At s allus at the Sund y School? THE PIXY PEOPLE IT was just a very Merry fairy dream ! All the woods were airy With the gloom and gleam ; Crickets in the clover Clattered clear and strong, And the bees droned over Their old honey-song! In the mossy passes, Saucy grasshoppers Leaped about the grasses And the thistle-burs ; And the whispered chuckle Of the katydid Shook the honeysuckle- Blossoms where he hid. 8 THE PIXY PEOPLE Through the breezy mazes Of the lazy June, Drowsy with the hazes Of the dreamy noon, Little Pixy people Winged above the walk, Pouring from the steeple Of a mullein-stalk. One a gallant fellow Evidently King, Wore a plume of yellow In a jewelled ring On a pansy bonnet, Gold and white and blue, With the dew still on it, And the fragrance, too. One a dainty lady, Evidently Queen Wore a gown of shady Moonshine and green, THE PIXY PEOPLE With a lace of gleaming Starlight, that sent All the dewdrops dreaming Everywhere she went. One wore a waistcoat Of rose-leaves, out and in ; And one wore a faced-coat Of tiger-lily-skin ; And one wore a neat coat Of palest galingale ; And one a tiny street-coat, And one a swallow-tail. And Ho ! sang the King of them, And Hey ! sang the Queen ; And round and round the ring of them Went dancing o er the green; And Hey ! sang the Queen of them, And Ho ! sang the King And all that I had seen of them Wasn t anything! 10 THE PIXY PEOPLE It was just a very Merry fairy dream ! All the woods were airy With the gloom and gleam ; Crickets in the clover Clattered clear and strong, And the bees droned over Their old honey-song I II UNCLE SIDNEY SOMETIMES, when I bin bad, An Pa " currecks " me nen, An Uncle Sidney he comes here, I m allus good again ; Cause Uncle Sidney says, An* takes me up an smiles, The goodest mens they is ain t good As baddest little childsl 12 PANSIES PANSIES! Pansies! How I love you, pansies! Jaunty-faced, laughing-lipped and dewy-eyed with glee ; Would my song but blossom in little five-leaf stanzas As delicate in fancies As your beauty is to me ! But my eyes shall smile on you, and my hands in fold you, Pet, caress, and lift you to the lips that love you so, That, shut ever in the years that may mildew or mould you, My fancy shall behold you Fair as in the long ago. WAITIN FER THE CAT TO DIE LAWZY ! don t I rickollect That-air old swing in the lane ! Right and proper, I expect, Old times can t come back again ; But I want to state, ef they Could come back, and I could say What my pick ud be, i jing! I d say, Gimme the old swing Nunder the old locus -trees On the old place, ef you please! Danglin there with half-shet eye, Waitin fer the cat to die ! I d say, Gimme the old gang O barefooted, hungry, lean, Ornry boys you want to hang When you re growed up twic t as mean! WAITIN FER THE CAT TO DIE The old gyarden-patch, the old Truants, and the stuff we stol d! The old stompin -groun , where we Wore the grass off, wild and free As the swoop o the old swing, Where we ust to climb and cling, And twist roun , and fight, and lie Waitin fer the cat to die ! Pears like I most allus could Swing the highest of the crowd Jes sail up there tel I stood Downside-up, and screech out loud,- Ketch my breath, and jes drap back Fer to let the old swing slack, Yit my towhead dippin still In the green boughs, and the chill Up my backbone taperin down, With my shadder on the groun* Slow and slower trailin by Waitin fer the cat to die ! Now my daughter s little Jane s Got a kind o baby-swing On the porch, so s when it rains She kin play there little thing! And I d limped out t other day With my old cheer thisaway, Swingin her and rockin too, Thinkin how /ust to do At her age, when suddently, "Hey, Gran pap!" she says to me, "Why you rock so slow?" . . . Says I, "Waitin fer the cat to die!" THE WAY THE BABY CAME O THIS is the way the baby came : Out of the night as comes the dawn ; Out of the embers as the flame ; Out of the bud the blossom on The apple-bough that blooms the same As in glad summers dead and gone With a grace and beauty none could name - O this is the way the baby came ! 7 UNINTERPRETED SUPINELY we lie in the grove s shady greenery, Gazing, all dreamy-eyed, up through the trees, And as to the sight is the heavenly scenery, So to the hearing the sigh of the breeze. We catch but vague rifts of the blue through the wavering Boughs of the maples; and, like undefined, The whispers and lisps of the leaves, faint and quavering, Meaningless falter and fall on the mind. The vine, with its beauty of blossom, goes rioting Up by the casement, as sweet to the eye As the trill of the robin is restful and quieting Heard in a drowse with the dawn in the sky. And yet we yearn on to learn more of the mystery We see and we hear, but forever remain Mute, blind and deaf to the ultimate history Born of a rose or a patter of rain. 18 MOTHER GOOSE DEAR Mother Goose ! most motherly and dear Of all good mothers who have laps wherein We children nestle safest from all sin, I cuddle to thy bosom, with no fear To there confess that though thy cap be queer, And thy curls gimlety, and thy cheeks thin, And though the winkered mole upon thy chin Tickles thy very nose-tip, still to hear The jolly jingles of mine infancy Crooned by thee, makes mine eager arms, as now, To twine about thy neck, full tenderly Drawing the dear old face down, that thy brow May dip into my purest kiss, and be Crowned ever with the baby-love of me. THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE I M thist a little crippled boy, an never goin to grow An* git a great big man at all ! cause Aunty told me so. When I was thist a baby onc t I failed out of the bed An got " The Curv ture of the Spine" at s what the Doctor said. I never had no Mother nen fer my Pa runned away An* dassn t come back here no more cause he was drunk one day An stobbed a man in thish-ere town, an couldn t pay his fine ! An nen my Ma she died an I got "Curv ture of the Spine"! 20 THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE I m nine years old! An you can t guess how much I weigh, I bet! Last birthday I weighed thirty-three ! An I weigh thirty yet! I m awful little fer my size I m purt nigh lit tler nan Some babies is! an neighbers all calls me "The Little Man"! An Doc one time he laughed an said: "I spect, first think you know, You ll have a little spike-tail coat an travel with a show!" An nen I laughed till I looked round an Aunty was a-cryin Sometimes she acts like that, cause I got "Curv - ture of the Spine"! I set while Aunty s washin on my little long- leg stool, An watch the little boys an girls a-skippin by to school ; An I peck on the winder, an holler out an say: u Who wants to fight The Little Man at dares you all to-day?" 21 THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE An* nen the boys climbs on the fence, an Tittle girls peeks through, An they all says: " Cause you re so big, you think we re feard o you!" An nen they yell, an shake their fist at me, like I shake mine They re thist in fun, you know, cause I got "Curv ture of the Spine" ! At evening, when the ironin s done, an Aunty s fixed the fire, An filled an lit the lamp, an* trimmed the wick an turned it higher, An fetched the wood all in fer night, an locked the kitchen door, An stuffed the old crack where the wind blows in up through the floor She sets the kittle on the coals, an* biles an* makes the tea, An fries the liver an* the mush, an cooks a egg fer me ; An sometimes when I cough so hard her elder berry wine Don t go so bad fer little boys with * Curv ture of the Spine"! 22 THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE An nen when she putts me to bed an fore she does she s got My blanket-nighty, at she maked, all good an warm an hot, Hunged on the rocker by the fire, she sings me hymns, an tells Me bout The Good Man yes, an Elves, an Old Enchanter spells; An tells me more an more an more ! tel I m asleep, purt nigh Only I thist set up ag in an kiss her when she cry, A-tellin on bout some boy s Angel-mother an it s mine! My Ma s a Angel but I m got "The Curv ture of the Spine" ! But Aunty s all so childish-like on my account, you see, I m most afeared she ll be took down an at s what bothers me I Cause ef my good old Aunty ever would git sick an die, 2 3 THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE I don t know what she d do in Heaven till 7 come, by an* by : Fer she s so ust to all my ways, an ever thing, you know, An no one there like me, to nurse an worry over so! Cause all the little childerns there s so straight an strong an fine, They s nary angel bout the place with " Curv - ture of the Spine " ! NOTE. The word " thist," as used in foregoing lines, is an occasional childish pronunciation evolved from the word "just" a word which in child vernacular has mani fold supplanters, such as "jus," "jes," " des," "jis," "dis," "jist," "dist," " ist," and even "gist," with hard g. In " thist," as above, sound " th " as in the word " the." 2 4 THE DAYS GONE BY O THE days gone by ! O the days gone by ! The apples in the orchard, and the pathway through the rye ; The chirrup of the robin, and the whistle of the quail As he piped across the meadows sweet as any nightingale ; When the bloom was on the clover, and the blue was in the sky, And my happy heart brimmed over, in the days gone by. In the days gone by, when my naked feet were tripped By the honeysuckle tangles where the water-lilies dipped, 25 THE DAYS GONE BY And the ripples of the river lipped the moss along the brink Where the placid-eyed and lazy-footed cattle came to drink, And the tilting snipe stood fearless of the truant s wayward cry And the splashing of the swimmer, in the days gone by O the days gone by ! O the days gone by ! The music of the laughing lip, the lustre of the eye ; The childish faith in fairies, and Aladdin s magic ring The simple, soul-reposing, glad belief in every thing, When life was like a story holding neither sob nor sigh, In the golden olden glory of the days gone by. 26 CHRISTMAS AFTERTHOUGHT AFTER a thoughtful, almost painful pause, Bub sighed, "I m sorry fer old Santy Claus They wuz no Santy Claus, ner couldn t be, When he wuz ist a little boy like me!" THE ROBINS OTHER NAME In the Orchard-Days, when you Children look like blossoms, too ; Bessie, with her jaunty ways And trim poise of head and face, Must have looked superior Even to the blossoms, for Little Winnie once averred Bessie looked just like the bird Tilted on the topmost spray Of the apple-boughs in May, With the red breast, and the strong, Clear, sweet warble of his song. "I don t know their name," Win said "I ist maked a name instead." So forever afterwards We called robins "Bessie-birds." 28 TO HATTIE ON HER BIRTHDAY Written in "A Child s Garden of Verses" WHEN your "Uncle Jim" was younger, In the days of childish hunger For the honey of such verses As this little book rehearses In such sweet simplicity, Just the simple gift that this is Would have brimmed his heart with blisses Sweet as Hattie s sweetest kisses, On her anniversary. THE CHRISTMAS LONG AGO COME, sing a hale Heigh-ho For the Christmas long ago! When the old log-cabin homed us From the night of blinding snow, When the rarest joy held reign, And the chimney roared amain, With the firelight like a beacon Through the frosty window-pane. AM the revel and the din From without and from within, The blend of distant sleigh-bells With the plinking violin ; The muffled shrieks and cries Then the glowing cheeks and eyes The driving storm of greetings, Gusts of kisses and surprise. 30 THE CHRISTMAS LONG AGO Sing sweetest of all glees Of the taffy-makers, please, And, round the saucers in the snow, The children thick as bees ; And sing each chubby cheek, Chin and laughing lip astreak With still a sweeter sweetness than The tongue of Song can speak. Sing in again the mirth Of the circle round the hearth, With the rustic Sindbad telling us The strangest tales on earth ! And the Minstrel Bard we knew, With his " Love-i-er so True," Likewise his "Young House-K-yarpen-fer, : And "Loved Henry," too! And, forgetting ne er a thing, Lift a gladder voice and sing Of the dancers in the kitchen > Clean from start to "pigeon-wing" I Sing the glory and the glee And the joy and jubilee, 3* THE CHRISTMAS LONG AGO The twirling form the quickened breath The sigh of ecstasy. The eyes that smile alone Back into our happy own The leaping pulse the laughing blood The trembling undertone! Ho! pair us off once more, With our feet upon the floor And our heads and hearts in heaven, As they were in days of yore I MABEL SWEET little face, so full of slumber now Sweet lips uplifted now with any kiss Sweet dimpled cheek and chin, and snowy brow,- What quietude is this? O speak! Have you forgotten, yesterday, How gladly you came running to the gate To meet us in the old familiar way, So joyous so elate So filled with wildest glee, yet so serene With innocence of song and childish chat, With all the dear caresses in between Have you forgotten that? Have you forgotten, knowing gentler charms, The boisterous love of one you ran to greet When you last met, who caught you in his arms And kissed you, in the street? 3 33 MABEL Not very many days have passed since then, And yet between that kiss and him there lies No pathway of return unless again, In streets of Paradise, Your eager feet come twinkling down the gold Of some bright thoroughfare ethereal, To meet and greet him there just as of old. Till then, farewell farewell. 34 LITTLE GIRLY-GIRL LITTLE Girly-Girl, of you Still forever I am dreaming.- Laughing eyes of limpid blue- Tresses glimmering and gleaming Like glad waters running over Shelving shallows, rimmed with clover, Trembling where the eddies whirl, Gurgling, "Little Girly-Girl!" For your name it came to me Down the brink of brooks that brought it Out of Paradise and we Love and I we, leaning, caught it From the ripples romping nigh us, And the bubbles bumping by us Over shoals of pebbled pearl, Lilting, "Little Girly-Girl I" 35 LITTLE GIRLY-OIRL That was long and long ago, But in memory the tender Winds of summer weather blow, And the roses burst in splendor; And the meadow s grassy billows Break in blossoms round the willows Where the currents curve and curl, Calling, "Little Girly-Girl!" JACK-IN-THE-BOX ^Grandfather, musing] IN childish days! O memory, You bring such curious things to me I Laughs to the lip tears to the eye, In looking on the gifts that lie Like broken playthings scattered o er Imagination s nursery floor! Did these old hands once click the key That let " Jack s" box-lid upward fly, And that blear-eyed, fur-whiskered elf Leap, as though frightened at himself, And quiveringly lean and stare At me, his jailer, laughing there? A child then ! Now I only know They call me very old ; and so They will not let me have my way, But uselessly I sit all day 37 JACK-IN-THE-BOX Here by the chimney-jamb, and poke The lazy fire, and smoke and smoke, And watch the wreaths swoop up the flue, And chuckle ay, I often do Seeing again, all vividly, Jack-in-the-box leap, as in glee To see how much he looks like me! . . . They talk. I can t hear what they say- But I am glad, clean through and through Sometimes, in fancying that they Are saying, u Sweet, that fancy strays In age back to our childish days!" TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS TIME of crisp and tawny leaves, And of tarnished harvest sheaves, And of dusty grasses weeds Thistles, with their tufted seeds Voyaging the Autumn breeze Like as fairy argosies : Time of quicker flash of wings, And of clearer twitterings In the grove or deeper shade Of the tangled everglade, Where the spotted water-snake Coils him in the sunniest brake ; And the bittern, as in fright, Darts, in sudden, slanting flight, Southward, while the startled crane Films his eyes in dreams again. 39 TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS II Down along the dwindled creek We go loitering. We speak Only with old questionings Of the dear remembered things Of the days of long ago, When the stream seemed thus and so In our boyish eyes: The bank Greener then, through rank on rank Of the mottled sycamores, Touching tops across the shores: Here, the hazel thicket stood There, the almost pathless wood Where the shellbark hickory-tree Rained its wealth on you and me. Autumn! as you loved us then, Take us to your heart again ! ra Season halest of the year! How the zestful atmosphere Nettles blood and brain and smites Into life the old delights 40 TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS We have wasted in our youth, And our graver years, forsooth! How again the boyish heart Leaps to see the chipmunk start From the brush and sleek the sun s Very beauty, as he runs ! How again a subtle hint Of crushed pennyroyal or mint Sends us on our knees, as when We were truant boys of ten Brown marauders of the wood, Merrier than Robin Hood! IV Ah ! will any minstrel say, In his sweetest roundelay, What is sweeter, after all, Than black haws, in early Fall? Fruit so sweet the frost first sat, Dainty-toothed, and nibbled at! And will any poet sing Of a lusher, richer thing TIME OP CLEARER TWITTERINGS Than a ripe May-apple, rollexl Like a pulpy lump of gold Under thumb and finger-tips, And poured molten through the lips? Go, ye bards of classic themes, Pipe your songs by classic streams ! I would twang the redbird s wings In the thicket while he sings ! ON THE SUNNY SIDE Hi and whoop-hooray, boys! Sing a song of cheer! Here s a holiday, boys, Lasting half a year! Round the world, and half is Shadow we have tried ; Now we re where the laugh is,- On the sunny side ! Pigeons coo and mutter, Strutting high aloof Where the sunbeams flutter Through the stable roof. Hear the chickens cheep, boys, And the hen with pride Clucking them to sleep, boys, On the sunny side ! Hear the clacking guinea ; Hear the cattle moo ; Hear the horses whinny, Looking out at you I 43 ON THE SUNNY SIDE On the hitching-block, boys, Grandly satisfied, See the old peacock, boys, On the sunny side ! Robins in the peach-tree ; Bluebirds in the pear ; Blossoms over each tree In the orchard there ! All the world s in joy, boys, Glad and glorified As a romping boy, boys, On the sunny side ! Where s a heart as mellow Where s a soul as free Where is any fellow We would rather be ? Just ourselves or none, boys, World around and wide. Laughing in the sun, boys, On the sunny side ! 44 THE ALL-GOLDEN THROUGH every happy line I sing I feel the tonic of the Spring. The day is like an old-time face That gleams across some grassy place An old-time face an old-time chum Who rises from the grave to come And lure me back along the ways Of time s all-golden yesterdays. Sweet day! to thus remind me of The truant boy I used to love To set, once more, his finger-tips Against the blossom of his lips, And pipe for me the signal known By none but him and me alone ! 45 THE ALL-GOLDEN II I see, across the school-room floor, The shadow of the open door, And dancing dust and sunshine blent Slanting the way the morning went, And beckoning my thoughts afar Where reeds and running waters are ; Where amber-colored bayous glass The half-drown d weeds and wisps of grass. Where sprawling frogs, in loveless key, Sing on and on incessantly. Against the green wood s dim expanse The cattail tilts its tufted lance, While on its tip one might declare The white " snake-feeder" blossomed there ! in I catch my breath as children do In woodland swings when life is new, And all the blood is warm as wine And tingles with a tang divine. My soul soars up the atmosphere And sings aloud where God can hear, THE ALL-GOLDEN And all my being leans intent To mark His smiling wonderment. O gracious dream, and gracious time, And gracious theme, and gracious rhyme- When buds of Spring begin to blow In blossoms that we used to know And lure us back along the ways Of time s all-golden yesterdays! LONGFELLOW S LOVE FOR THE CHILDREN AWAKE, he loved their voices, And wove them into his rhyme ; And the music of their laughter Was with him all the time. Though he knew the tongues of nations, And their meanings all were dear, The prattle and lisp of a little child Was the sweetest for him to hear. WINTER FANCIES WINTER without And warmth within; The winds may shout And the storm begin ; The snows may pack At the window-pane, And the skies grow black, And the sun remain Hidden away The livelong day But here in here is the warmth of May ! II Swoop your spitefullest Up the flue, Wild Winds do ! What in the world do I care for you? 4 49 WINTER FANCIES O delightfullest Weather of all, Howl and squall, And shake the trees till the last leaves fall ! Ill The joy one feels, In an easy-chair, Cocking his heels In the dancing air That wreaths the rim of a roaring stove Whose heat loves better than hearts can love, Will not permit The coldest day To drive away The fire in his blood, and the bliss of it ! IV Then blow, Winds, blow! And rave and shriek, And snarl and snow, Till your breath grows weak 5 WINTER FANCIES While here in my room I m as snugly shut As a glad little worm In the heart of a nut ! 5 THE PRAYER PERFECT DEAR Lord ! kind Lord ! Gracious Lord ! I pray Thou wilt look on all I love, Tenderly to-day ! Weed their hearts of weariness ; Scatter every care Down a wake of angel-wings Winnowing the air. Bring unto the sorrowing All release from pain; Let the lips of laughter Overflow again; And with all the needy O divide, I pray, This vast treasure of content That is mine to-day ! A MOTHER-SONG MOTHER, O mother! forever I cry for you, Sing the old song I may never forget ; Even in slumber I murmur and sigh for you. Mother, O Mother, Sing low, " Little brother, Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet!" Mother, O mother! the years are so lonely, Filled but with weariness, doubt and regret! Can t you come back to me for to-night only, Mother, my mother, And sing, "Little brother, Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet!" Mother, O mother ! of old I had never One wish denied me, nor trouble to fret; Now must I cry out all vainly forever, Mother, sweet mother, O sing, "Little brother, Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet!" 53 OF THE ( UNIVERSITY | A MOTHER-SONG Mother, O mother! must longing and sorrow Leave me in darkness, with eyes ever wet, And never the hope of a meeting to-morrow ? Answer me, mother, And sing, "Little brother, Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet!" 54 IN THE NIGHT WHEN it s night, and no light, too, Wakin byyourse f, With the old clock mockin you On the mantel-she f ; In the dark so still and black, You re afeard you ll hear Somepin awful pop and crack, "Go to sleep, my dear!" That s what Mother says. And thev-& When we ain t afeard I Wunder, when we be big mens, Then ul we be skeerd? Some night Mother s goned away, And ist us is here, Will The Good Man wake and say, "Go to sleep, my dear" ? 55 THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW TwAS a Funny Little Fellow Of the very purest type, For he had a heart as mellow As an apple overripe ; And the brightest little twinkle When a funny thing occurred, And the lightest little tinkle Of a laugh you ever heard ! His smile was like the glitter Of the sun in tropic lands, And his talk a sweeter twitter, Than the swallow understands ; Hear him sing and tell a story Snap a joke ignite a pun, J Twas a capture rapture glory, And explosion all in one 1 56 THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW Though he hadn t any money That condiment which tends To make a fellow " honey" For the palate of his friends ; Sweet simples he compounded Sovereign antidotes for sin Or taint, a faith unbounded That his friends were genuine. He wasn t honored, maybe For his songs of praise were slim,- Yet I never knew a baby That wouldn t crow for him ; I never knew a mother But urged a kindly claim Upon him as a brother, At the mention of his name. The sick have ceased their sighing, And have even found the grace Of a smile when they were dying As they looked upon his face ; 57 THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW And I ve seen his eyes of laughter Melt in tears that only ran As though, swift-dancing after, Came the Funny Little Man. He laughed away the sorrow And he laughed away the gloom We are all so prone to borrow From the darkness of the tomb ; And he laughed across the ocean Of a happy life, and passed, With a laugh of glad emotion, Into Paradise at last. And I think the Angels knew him, And had gathered to await His coming, and run to him Through the widely opened Gate, With their faces gleaming sunny For his laughter-loving sake, And thinking, "What a funny Little Angel he will make!" UNCLE SIDNEY S VIEWS I HOLD that the true age of wisdom is when We are boys and girls, and not women and men, When as credulous children we know things because We believe them however averse to the laws. It is faith, then, not science and reason, I say, That is genuine wisdom. And would that to-day We, as then, were as wise and ineffably blest As to live, love and die, and trust God for the rest! So I simply deny the old notion, you know, That the wiser we get as the older we grow ! For in youth all we know we are certain of. Now The greater our knowledge, the more we allow For sceptical margin. And hence I regret That the world isn t flat, and the sun doesn t set, And we may not go creeping up home, when we die, Through the moon, like a round yellow hole in the sky. 59 WHEN EARLY MARCH SEEMS MIDDLE MAY WHEN country roads begin to thaw In mottled spots of damp and dust, And fences by the margin draw Along the frosty crust Their graphic silhouettes, I say, The Spring is coming round this way. When morning-time is bright with sun And keen with wind, and both confuse The dancing, glancing eyes of one With tears that ooze and ooze And nose-tips weep as well as they, The Spring is coming round this way. When suddenly some shadow-bird Goes wavering beneath the gaze, And through the hedge the moan is heard Of kine that fain would graze In grasses new, I smile and say, The Spring is coming round this way. 60 WHEN EARLY MARCH SEEMS MIDDLE MAY When knotted horse-tails are untied, And teamsters whistle here and there, And clumsy mitts are laid aside And choppers hands are bare, And chips are thick where children play, The Spring is coming round this way. When through the twigs the farmer tramps, And troughs are chunked beneath the trees, And fragrant hints of sugar-camps Astray in every breeze, When early March seems middle May, The Spring is coming round this way. When coughs are changed to laughs, and when Our frowns melt into smiles of glee, And all our blood thaws out again In streams of ecstasy, And poets wreak their roundelay, The Spring is coming round this way. 61 THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS THEY all climbed up on a high board-fence Nine little goblins, with green-glass eyes Nine little goblins that" had no sense, And couldn t tell coppers from cold mince-pies ; And they all climbed up on the fence, and sat And I asked them what they were staring at. And the first one said, as he scratched his head With a queer little arm that reached out of his ear And rasped its claws in his hair so red 1 This is what this little arm is fer!" And he scratched and stared, and the next one said, "How on earth do you scratch your head?" And he laughed like the screech of a rusty hinge Laughed and laughed till his face grew black ; And when he choked, with a final twinge Of his stifling laughter, he thumped his back 62 THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS With a fist that grew on the end of his tail Till the breath came back to his lips so pale. And the third little goblin leered round at me And there were no lids on his eyes at all, And he clucked one eye, and he says, says he, " What is the style of your socks this fall?" And he clapped his heels and I sighed to see That he had hands where his feet should be. Then a bald-faced goblin, gray and grim, Bowed his head, and I saw him slip His eyebrows off, as I looked at him, / And paste them over his upper lip ; And then he moaned in remorseful pain u Would Ah, would I d me brows again!" And then the whole of the goblin band Rocked on the fence-top to and fro, And clung, in a long row, hand in hand, Singing the songs that they used to know Singing the songs that their grandsires sung In the goo-goo days of the goblin-tongue. 63 THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS And ever they kept their green-glass eyes Fixed on me with a stony stare Till my own grew glazed with a dread surmise, And my hat whooped up on my lifted hair, And I felt the heart in my breast snap to, As you ve heard the lid of a snuff-box do. And they sang: "You re asleep! There is no board-fence, And never a goblin with green-glass eyes ! i Tis only a vision the mind invents After a supper of cold mince-pies. And you re doomed to dream this way," they said, " And you sha^n t wake up till you 1 re clean plum dead!" THE LITTLE COAT HERE S his ragged "roundabout." . , . Turn the pockets inside out : See; his penknife, lost to use, Rusted shut with apple-juice; Here, with marbles, top and string, Is his deadly "devil-sling," With its rubber, limp at last As the sparrows of the past! Beeswax buckles leather straps- Bullets, and a box of caps, Not a thing of all, I guess, But betrays some waywardness E en these tickets, blue and red, For the Bible-verses said Such as this his mem ry kept, "Jesus wept." 5 65 THE LITTLE COAT Here s a fishing-hook and -line. Tangled up with wire and twine, And dead angleworms, and some Slugs of lead and chewing-gum, Blent with scents that can but come From the oil of rhodium. Here a soiled, yet dainty note, That some little sweetheart wrote, Dotting "Vine grows round the stump," And "My sweetest sugar-lump!" Wrapped in this a padlock key Where he s filed a touch-hole see! And some powder in a quill Corked up with a liver pill ; And a spongy little chunk Of "punk." Here s the little coat but O Where is he we ve censured so? Don t you hear us calling, dear? Back! come back, and never fear. You may wander where you will, Over orchard, field and hill; 66 THE LITTLE COAT You may kill the birds, or do Anything that pleases you ! Ah, this empty coat of his! Every tatter worth a kiss ; Every stain as pure instead As the white stars overhead : And the pockets homes were they Of the little hands that play Now no more but, absent, thus Beckon us. LAWYER AND CHILD How large was Alexander, father, That parties designate The historic gentleman as rather Inordinately great ? Why, son, to speak with conscientious Regard for history, Waiving all claims, of course, to heights pretentious, About the size of me. 68 EXCEEDING ALL LONG life s a lovely thing to know, With lovely health and wealth, forsooth, And lovely name and fame But O The loveliness of Youth ! THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE PRINCESS TWAS a curious dream, good sooth! The dream of The Little Princess ; It seemed a dream, yet a truth, Long years ago in her youth. It came as a dream no less It was not a dream, she says. (She is singing and saying things Musical as the wile Of the eerie quaverings That drip from the grieved strings Of her lute. We weep or smile Even as she, meanwhile.) 70 THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE PRINCESS In a day, long dead and gone, When her castle-turrets threw Their long, sharp shadows on The sward like lances, wan And lone, she strayed into Strange grounds where lilies grew. There, late in the afternoon, As she sate in the terrace shade, Rav ling a half-spun tune From a lute like a wee new-moon, High off was a bugle played, And a sound as of steeds that neighed, And the lute fell from her hands, As her eyes raised, half in doubt, To the arch of the azure lands Where lo ! with the fluttering strands Of a rainbow reined about His wrist, rode a horseman out. And The Little Princess was stirred No less at his steeds than him ; THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE PRINCESS A jet-black span of them gird In advance, he bestrode the third ; And the troop of them seemed to swim The skies as the Seraphim. Wingless they were, yet so Upborne in their wondrous flight As their master bade them go, They dwindled on high ; or lo ! They curved from their heavenmost height And swooped to her level sight. And the eyes of The Little Princess Grow O so bright as the chants Of the horseman s courtliness, Saluting her low Ah, yes! And lifting a voice that haunts Her own song s weird romance. For (she sings) at last he swept As near to her as the tips Of the lilies, that whitely slept, As he leaned o er one and wept And touched it with his lips- Sweeter than honey-drips ! 72 THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE PRINCESS And she keeps the lily yet As the horseman bade (she says) As he launched, with a wild curvet, His steeds toward the far sunset, Till gulfed in its gorgeousness And lost to The Little Princess : But O, my master sweet! He is coming again I {she sings) My Prince of the Coursers fleet, With his bugle s echoings, And the breath of his voice for the ivings Of the sandals of h is feet I 73 THE LAND OF USED-TO-BE AND where s the Land of Used-to-be, does little baby wonder? Oh, we will clap a magic saddle over "PoppieV knee And ride away around the world, and in and out and under The whole of all the golden sunny Summer time and see. Leisurely and lazy-like we ll jostle on our journey, And let the pony bathe his hooves and cool them in the dew, As he sidles down the shady way, and lags along the ferny And green, grassy edges of the lane we travel through. And then we ll canter on to catch the bubble of the thistle As it bumps among the butterflies and glimmers down the sun, 74 THE LAND OF USED-TO-BE To leave us laughing, all content to hear the robin whistle Or guess what Katydid is saying little Katy s done. And pausing here a minute, where we hear the squirrel chuckle As he darts from out the underbrush and scam pers up the tree, We will gather buds and locust-blossoms, leaves and honeysuckle, To wreathe around our foreheads, riding into Used-to-be ; For here s the very rim of it that we go swinging over Don t you hear the Fairy bugles, and the tinkle of the bells, And see the baby-bumblebees that tumble in the clover And dangle from the tilted pinks and tipsy pim pernels ? THE LAND OF USED-TO-BE And don t you see the merry faces of the daffo dillies, And the jolly Johnny-jump-ups, and the butter cups a-glee, And the low, lolling ripples ring around the water- lilies? All greeting us with laughter, to the Land of Used-to-be ! And here among the blossoms of the blooming vines and grasses, With a haze forever hanging in the sky forever blue, And with a breeze from over seas to kiss us as it passes, We will romp around forever as the airy Elfins do! For all the elves of earth and air are swarming here together The prankish Puck, King Oberon, and Queen Titania too ; And dear old Mother Goose herself, as sunny as the weather, Comes dancing down the dewy walks to wel come me and you ! WHEN OUR BABY DIED WHEN our baby died My Ma she ist cried an* cried ! Yes n my Pa he cried, too An /cried An me an you. An* I tended like my doll She cried too An ever all O ist everybody cried When our baby died ! When our baby died Nen I got to took a ride ! An we all ist rode an rode Clean to Heav n where baby goed Mighty nigh ! An nen Ma she Cried ag in an Pa an me. All but ist the Angels cried When our baby died 1 77 CHRISTINE BRAIBRY THE BEAUTIFUL DOLLY WHO COMES FROM TENTOLEENA LAND BRINGING A STRANGE LETTER The Letter THIS little Dolly s name is Christine Braibry.* She was born in Tentoleena Land, where lilies and red roses grow in the air, and humming-birds and butterflies on stalks. You must be kind to Christine, for everything about her in your land will be very strange to her. If she seems to stare in a bewildered way, and will not answer when you ask her why, you must know that she is simply dazed with the wonders that she sees on every hand. It will doubtless be a long, long while before Christine will cease to marvel at the Sunshine of your strange country ; for in Ten- * The terminal of this name is sounded short, as in " lovely." 7 s CHRISTINE BRAIBRY toleena Land there is never any shine but Moon shine, and sometimes that gets so muddied up with shade it soils the eyesight to gaze at it overmuch. It will be trying, in your land, for Christine to keep silent all the time, for, in your country, Dol lies cannot walk and talk at all perfectly, because they only think they are dreaming all the time, and they dare not speak for fear their voices will awaken them, and they dare not move for fear of falling out of bed. So, you see, you should be very kind indeed to little Christine Braibry. In Tentoleena Land the Dollies do not sleep long they are always the first ones up at Moon- dawn for Moon-dawn is the Dollies morning. Then they go out in the fragrant grasses, where the big, ripe dewdrops grow much nicer, purer dew than yours on earth, for in Tentoleena Land they gather it before it has been skimmed, and all the pearly cream that gathers on the surface of the drops they stir up with the rest and bathe in that ; and this is why the Dollies always have such deli cate complexions. Then, when the baths are over, they dress themselves, and waken their parents. 79 CHRISTINE BRAIBRY and dress them for in Tentoleena Land the par ents are the children. Is not that odd? Sometime Christine may get used to your strange land and all the wonders that she sees ; and if she ever does, and smiles at you, and pulls your face down close to hers and kisses you, why, that will be the sign by which you ll know she s coming to again and wants to talk ; and so the first thing you must ask of her is to sing this little song she made of Tentoleena Land. Only the words of it can be given here (not half the beauty of the dainty song) for when you hear it, in the marvel lously faint, and low, and sweet, and tender, tink ling tongue of Tentoleena Land, you will indeed be glad that the gracious fairy Fortune ever sent you Christine Braibry. So, since all the sounds in the melodious utter ance of Tentoleena Land are so exquisitely, so chastely, rarely beautiful no earthly art may hope to reproduce them, you must, as you here read the words, just shut your eyes and fancy that you hear little Christine Braibry singing this eerie song of hers: 80 CHRISTINE S SONG UP in Tentoleena Land Tentoleena ! Tentoleena ! All the Dollies, hand in hand, Mina, Nainie, and Serena, Dance the Fairy fancy dances, With glad songs and starry glances, Lisping roundelays; and, after, Bird-like interludes of laughter Strewn and scattered o er the lawn Their gilt sandals twinkle on Through light mists of silver sand Up in Tentoleena Land. Up in Tentoleena Land Tentoleena ! Tentoleena ! Blares the eerie Elfin band Trumpet, harp and concertina- Larkspur bugle honeysuckle Cornet, with a quickstep chuckle In its golden throat; and, maybe, Lilies-of-the-valley they be 6 81 CHRISTINE BRAIBRY Baby-silver-bells that chime Musically all the time, Tossed about from hand to hand: Up in Tentoleena Land. Up in Tentoleena Land Tentoleena! Tentoleena! Dollies dark, and blonde and bland Sweet as musk-rose or verbena Sweet as moon-blown daffodillies, Or wave-jostled water-lilies, Yearning to rd the rose-mouths, ready Leaning o er the river s eddy, Dance, and glancing fling to you, Through these lines you listen to, Kisses blown from lip and hand Out of Tentoleena Land ! 82 THE SQUIRT-GUN UNCLE MAKED ME UNCLE SIDNEY, when he was here, Maked me a squirt-gun out o some Elder-bushes at growed out near Where wuz the brick-yard way out clear To where the Toll Gate come ! So when we walked back home again, He maked it, out in our woodhouse where Wuz the old work-bench, an the old jack-plane, An the old poke-shave, an the tools all lay n 1st like he wants em there. He sawed it first with the old hand-saw ; An nen he peeled off the bark, an got Some glass an scraped it ; an told bout Pa, When he wuz a boy an fooled his Ma, An the whippin* at he caught. THE SQUIRT-GUN UNCLE MAKED ME Nen Uncle Sidney, he took an filed A old arn ramrod; an* one o the ends He screwed fast into the vise ; an smiled, Thinkin , he said, o when he wuz a child, Fore him an Pa wuz mens. He punched out the peth, an nen he putt A plug in the end with a hole notched through ; Nen took the old drawey-knife an cut An maked a handle at shoved clean shut But ist where yer hand held to. An he wropt th uther end with some string an white Piece o the sleeve of a old tored shirt ; An nen he showed me to hold it tight, An suck in the water an work it right. An* it ud ist squirt an squirt! THE BROOK-SONG LITTLE brook ! Little brook ! You have such a happy look Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook And your ripples, one and one, Reach each other s hands and run Like laughing little children in the sun ! Little brook, sing to me : Sing about a bumblebee That tumbled from a lily-bell and grumbled mum- blingly, Because he wet the film Of his wings, and had to swim, While the water-bugs raced round and laughed at him ! 85 THE BROOK-SONG Little brook sing a song Of a leaf that sailed along Down the golden-braided centre of your current swift and strong, And a dragon-fly that lit On the tilting rim of it, And rode away and wasn t scared a bit. And sing how oft in glee Came a truant boy like me, Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody, Till the gurgle and refrain Of your music in his brain Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain. Little brook laugh and leap ! Do not let the dreamer weep : Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep ; And then sing soft and low Through his dreams of long ago Sing back to him the rest he used to know ! 86 THE YOUTHFUL PRESS. LITTLE Georgie Tempers, he Printed some fine cards for me ; But his press had " J " for James By no means the choice of names. Yet it s proper, none the less, That his little printing-press Should be taught that James for J Always is the better way. For, if left to its own whim, Next time it might call me "Jim," Then THE CULTURED PRESS would be Shocked at such a liberty. Therefore, little presses all Should be trained, while they are small, To develop taste in these Truths that shape our destinies. THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN THAT-AIR young-un ust to set By the crick here day by day, Watch the swallers dip and w et Their slim wings and skoot away ; Watch these little snipes along The low banks tilt up and down Mongst the reeds, and hear the song Of the bullfrogs croakin roun : Ust to set here in the sun Watchin things, and listenun, Peared-like, mostly to the roar Of the dam below, er to That-air riffle nigh the shore Jes acrost from me and you. Ust to watch him from the door Of the mill. Ud rigg him out With a fishin -pole and line Dig worms fer him nigh about 88 THAT- AIR YOUNG-UN Jes spit on his bait! but he Never keered much, pearantly, To ketch fish! He druther fine Out some sunny place, and set Watchin things, with droopy head, And u a-listenun," he said "Kindo* listenun above The old crick to what the wet Warter was a-talkin* of!" Jevver hear sich talk as that? Bothered Mother more n me What the child was cipher n at. Come home onc t and said at he Knowed what the snake-feeders thought When they grit their wings ; and knowed Turkle-talk, when bubbles riz Over where the old roots growed Where he th owed them pets o his Little turripuns he caught In the County Ditch and packed In his pockets days and days ! Said he knowed what goslin s quacked Could tell what the killdees sayes, THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN And grasshoppers, when they lit In the crick and "minnies" bit Off their legs. "But, blame!" says he, Sorto lookin clean above Mother s head and on through me (And them eyes! I see em yet!) "Blame!" he says, "ef I kin see, Er make out, jes what the wet Warter is a-talkin of!" Made me nervous! Mother, though, Said best not to scold the child The Good Bein knowed. And so We was only rickonciled When he d be asleep. And then, Time, and time, and time again, We ve watched over him, you know Her a-sayin nothin jes Kindo smoothin back his hair, And, all to herse f, I guess, Studyin up some kind o prayer She ain t tried yet. Onc t she said, Cotin Scriptur , " He, " says she, In a solemn whisper, " He Givuth His beloved sleep! " 90 THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN And jes then I heerd the rain Strike the shingles, as I turned Res less to rds the wall again. Pity strong men dast to weep ! Specially when up above Thrash ! the storm comes down and you Feel the midnight plum soaked through Heart and soul, and wunder, too, What the warter s talkin of! Found his hat way down below Hinchman s Ford. Ves Anders he Rid and fetched it. Mother she Went wild over that, you know Hugged it! kissed it! Turribull My hopes then was all gone too. . . . Brung him in, with both hands full O warter-lilies peared-like new- Bloomed fer him renched whiter still In the clear rain, mixin fine And finer in the noon sunshine. 9 1 THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN Winders of the old mill looked On him where the hill-road crooked In on through the open gate. . . . Laid him on the old settee On the porch there. Heerd the great Roarin dam acrost and we Heerd a crane cry in amongst The sycamores and then a dove Cutterin on the mill-roof then Heerd the crick, and thought again, "Now what s it a-talkin of?" 92 BABY S DYING BABY S dying, Do not stir Let her spirit lightly float Through the sighing Lips of her Still the murmur in the throat ; Let the moan of grief be curbed Baby must not be disturbed ! Baby s dying, Do not stir Let her pure life lightly swim Through the sighing Lips of her Out from us and up to HIM Let her leave us with that smile Kiss and miss her after while. 93 THE BOYS WHERE are they? the friends of my childhood enchanted The clear, laughing eyes looking back in my own, And the warm, chubby fingers my palms have so wanted, As when we raced over Pink pastures of clover, And mocked the quail s whir and the bumblebee s drone ? Have the breezes of time blown their blossomy faces Forever adrift down the years that are flown ? Am I never to see them romp back to their places, Where over the meadow, In sunshine and shadow, The meadow-larks trill, and the bumblebees drone ? 94 THE BOYS Where are they ? Ah ! dim in the dust lies the clover ; The whippoorwill s call has a sorrowful tone, And the dove s I have wept at it over and over ; I want the glad lustre Of youth, and the cluster Of faces asleep where the bumblebees drone ! 95 OLD MAN S NURSERY RHYME IN the jolly winters Of the long-ago, It was not so cold as now O! No! No! Then, as I remember, Snowballs to eat Were as good as apples now, And every bit as sweet ! II In the jolly winters Of the dead-and-gone, Bub was warm as summer, With his red mitts on, OLD MAN S NURSERY RHYME Just in his little waist- And-pants all together, Who ever heard him growl About cold weather? Ill In the jolly winters Of the long-ago Was it half so cold as now ? O ! No ! No ! Who caught his death o* cold, Making prints of men Flat-backed in snow that now s Twice as cold again? IV In the jolly winters Of the dead-and-gone, Startin out rabbit huntin Early as the dawn, 97 Who ever froze his fingers, Ears, heels, or toes, Or d a cared if he had? Nobody knows ! Nights by the kitchen-stove, Shellin white and red Corn in the skillet, and Sleepin four abed ! Ah ! the jolly winters Of the long-ago ! We were not as old as now O! No! No! 98 THE SONG OF YESTERDAY I BUT yesterday I looked away O er happy lands, where sunshine lay In golden blots Inlaid with spots Of shade and wild forget-me-nots. My head was fair With flaxen hair, And fragrant breezes, faint and rare, And, warm with drouth From out the south, Blew all my curls across my mouth. And, cool and sweet, My naked feet Found dewy pathways through the wheat ; And out again Where, down the lane, The dust was dimpled with the rain. 99 THE SONG OF YESTERDAY II But yesterday! Adream, astray, From morning s red to evening s gray, O er dales and hills Of daffodills And lorn sweet-fluting whippoorwills. I knew nor cares Nor tears nor prayers A mortal god, crowned unawares With sunset and A sceptre-wand Of apple blossoms in my hand ! The dewy blue Of twilight grew To purple, with a star or two Whose lisping rays Failed in the blaze Of sudden fireflies through the haze. 100 THE SONG OF YESTERDAY III But yesterday I heard the lay O summer birds, when I, as they With breast and wing, All quivering With life and love, could only sing. My head was lent Where, with it, blent A maiden s o er her instrument; While all the night, From vale to height, Was filled with echoes of delight. And all our dreams Were lit with gleams Of that lost land of reedy streams, Along whose brim Forever swim Pan s lilies, laughing up at him. 101 THE SONG OF YESTERDAY IV But yesterday ! . . . O blooms of May, And summer roses where away? O stars above ; And lips of love, And all the honeyed sweets thereof!- O lad and lass, And orchard pass, And briered lane, and daisied grass! O gleam and gloom, And woodland bloom, And breezy breaths of all perfume !- No more for me Or mine shall be Thy raptures save in memory, No more no more Till through the Door Of Glory gleam the days of yore. 103 DUSK-SONG THE BEETLE THE shrilling locust slowly sheathes His dagger-voice, and creeps away Beneath the brooding leaves where breathes The zephyr of the dying day : One naked star has waded through The purple shallows of the night, And faltering as falls the dew It drips its misty light. O er garden blooms, On tides of musk, The beetle booms adown the glooms And bumps along the dusk. The katydid is rasping at The silence from the tangled broom: On drunken wings the flitting bat Goes staggering athwart the gloom ; 103 DUSK-SONG THE BEETLE The toadstool bulges through the weeds, And lavishly to left and right The fireflies, like golden seeds, Are sown about the night. O er slumbrous blooms, On floods of musk, The beetle booms adown the glooms And bumps along the dusk. The primrose flares its baby-hands Wide open, as the empty moon, Slow lifted from the underlands, Drifts up the azure-arched lagoon ; The shadows on the garden walk Are frayed with rifts of silver light; And, trickling down the poppy-stalk, The dewdrop streaks the night. O er folded blooms, On swirls of musk, The beetle booms adown the glooms And bumps along the dusk. 104 BABYHOOD HEIGH-HO ! Babyhood ! Tell me where you lin ger! Let s toddle home again, for we have gone as tray ; Take this eager hand of mine and lead me by the finger Back to the lotus-lands of the far-away! Turn back the leaves of life. Don t read the story. Let s find the pictures, and fancy all the rest; We can fill the written pages with a brighter glory Than old Time, the story-teller, at his very best. Turn to the brook where the honeysuckle tipping O er its vase of perfume spills it on the breeze, And the bee and humming-bird in ecstasy are sip ping From the fairy-flagons of the blooming locust- trees. BABYHOOD Turn to the lane where we used to * teeter-totter," Printing little foot-palms in the mellow mould Laughing at the lazy cattle wading in the water Where the ripples dimple round the buttercups of gold. Where the dusky turtle lies basking on the gravel Of the sunny sand-bar in the middle tide, And the ghostly dragon-fly pauses in his travel To rest like a blossom where the water-lily died. Heigh-ho ! Babyhood ! Tell me where you linger ! Let s toddle home again, for we have gone astray ; Take this eager hand of mine and lead me by the finger Back to the lotus-lands of the far-away! 106 MAX AND JIM MAX an Jim, They re each other s Fat an slim Little brothers. Max is thin, An Jim, the fac s is, Fat ag in As little Max is! Their Pa lowed He don t know whuther He s most proud Of one er th other! Their Ma says They re both so sweet mt- That she guess She ll haf to eat em! 107 THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE OH! the Circus-Day Parade! How the bugles played and played ! Aud how the glossy horses tossed their flossy manes and neighed, As the rattle and the rhyme of the tenor-drum mer s time Filled all the hungry hearts of us with melody sublime ! How the grand band-wagon shone with a splendor all its own, And glittered with a glory that our dreams had never known! And how the boys behind, high and low of eve>y kind, Marched in unconscious capture, with a rapture undefined ! 1 08 THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE How the horsemen, two and two, with their plumes of white and blue And crimson, gold and purple, nodding by at me and you, Waved the banners that they bore, as the knights in days of yore, Till our glad eyes gleamed and glistened like the spangles that they wore ! How the graceless-graceful stride of the elephant was eyed, And the capers of the little horse that cantered at his side ! How the shambling camels, tame to the plaudits of their fame, With listless eyes came silent, masticating as they came. How the cages jolted past, with each wagon bat tened fast, And the mystery within it only hinted of at last From the little grated square in the rear, and nosing there The snout of some strange animal that sniffed the outer air 1 109 "THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE And, last of all, The Clown, making mirth for all the town, With his lips curved ever upward and his eye* brows ever down, And his chief attention paid to the little muje that played A tattoo on the dash-board with his heels, in the Parade. Oh ! the Circus-Day Parade ! How the bugles played and played ! And how the glossy horses tossed their flossy manes and neighed, As the rattle and the rhyme of the tenor-drum mer s time Filled all the hungry hearts of us with melody sub lime! no THE OLD HAY-MOW THE Old Hay-mow s the place to play Fer boys, when it s a rainy day! I good eal ruther be up there Than down in town, er anywhere! When I play in our stable-loft, The good old hay s so dry an soft, An feels so fine, an smells so sweet, I most ferget to go an eat. An one time onc t I did ferget To go tel dinner was all et, An they had short-cake an Bud he Hogged up the piece Ma saved fer me ! Nen I won t let him play no more In our hay-mow where I keep store An got hen-eggs to sell, an* shoo The cackle-un old hen out, too 1 III THE OLD HAY-MOW An* nen, when Aunty she was here A-visitun from Rensselaer, An bringed my little cousin, he Can come up there an play with me. But, after while when Bud he bets At I can t turn no summersetts, I let him come up, ef he can Ac ha f-way like a gentleman! JOHN TARKINGTON JAMESON JOHN JAMESON, my jo John ! Ye re bonnie wee an sma ; Your ee s the morning violet, Wi tremblin dew an a ; Your smile s the gowden simmer-sheen, Wi glintin pearls aglow Atween the posies o your lips, John Jameson, my jo ! Ye hae the faither s braith o brow, An synes his look benign Whiles he hings musin ower the burn, Wi leestless hook an line ; Ye hae the mither s mou an cheek An denty chin but O ! It s maist ye re like your ain braw seP, John Jameson, my jo ! 8 113 JOHN TARKINGTON JAMESON John Jameson, my jo John, Though, wi sic luvers twain, Ye dance far yont your whustlin frien* Wha laggart walks his lane,^- Be mindet, though he naps his last Whaur kirkyird thistles grow, His ghaist shall caper on wi you, John Jameson, my jo ! 114 GUINEY-PIGS GUINEY-PIGS is awful cute, With their little trimbly snoot Sniffin at the pussly that We bring em to nibble at. Looks like they re so clean an white, An so dainty an polite, They could eat like you an me When they s company! Tiltin down the clover-tops Till they spill, an over drops The sweet morning dew Don t you Think they might have napkins, too? Ef a guiney-pig was big As a shore-ari -certain pig, Nen he wouldn t ac so fine When he come to dine. "5 GUINEY-PIGS Nen he d chomp his jaws an eat Things out in the dirty street, Dirt an all ! An nen lay down In mud-holes an waller roun ! So the guiney-pigs is best, Cause they re nice an tidiest; They eat most like you an me When they s company! 116 BUSCH AND TOMMY LITTLE Busch and Tommy Hays Small the theme, but large the praise, For two braver brothers, Of such toddling years and size, Bloom of face, and blue of eyes, Never trampled soldier-wise On the rights of mothers ! Even boldly facing their Therapeutic father s air Of complex abstraction, But to kindle kindlier gaze, Wake more smiles and gracious ways Ay, nor find in all their days Ampler satisfaction ! Hail ye, then, with chirp and cheer, All wan patients, waiting here Bitterer medications ! Busch and Tommy, tone us, too. How our life-blood leaps anew, Under loving touch of you And your ministrations ! 117 HIS CHRISTMAS SLED I WATCH him, with his Christmas sled ; He hitches on behind A passing sleigh, with glad hooray, And whistles down the wind ; He hears the horses champ their bits, And bells that jingle-jingle You Woolly Cap ! you Scarlet Mitts ! You miniature "Kriss Kringle!" I almost catch your secret joy Your chucklings of delight, The while you whiz where glory is Eternally in sight ! With you I catch my breath, as swift Your jaunty sled goes gliding O er glassy track and shallow drift, As I behind were riding ! n8 HIS CHRISTMAS SLED II He winks at twinklings of the frost, And on his airy race, Its tingles beat to redder heat The rapture of his face : The colder, keener is the air, The less he cares a feather. But, there! he s gone! and I gaze on The wintriest of weather ! Ah, Boy! still speeding o er the track Where none returns again, To sigh for you, or cry for you, Or die for you were vain. And so, speed on ! the while I pray All nipping frosts forsake you Ride still ahead of grief, but may All glad things overtake you ! BABE HERRICK As a rosebud might, in dreams, Mid some lilies lie, meseems Thou, pink youngling, on the breast Of thy mother slumberest. 120 THE LAND OF THUS-AND-SO "How would Willie like to go To the Land of Thus-and-So? Everything is proper there All the children comb their hair Smoother than the fur of cats, Or the nap of high silk hats ; Every face is clean and white As a lily washed in light; Never vaguest soil or speck Found on forehead, throat or neck; Every little crimpled ear, In and out, as pure and clear As the cherry-blossom s blow In the Land of Thus-and-So. "Little boys that never fall Down the stair, or cry at all Doing nothing to repent, Watchful and obedient; 121 THE LAND OF THUS-AND-SO Never hungry, nor in haste Tidy shoe-strings always laced ; Never button rudely torn From its fellows all unworn ; Knickerbockers always new Ribbon, tie, and collar, too; Little watches, worn like men, Always promptly half-past ten Just precisely right, you know, For the Land of Thus-and-So ! 4 And the little babies there Give no one the slightest care Nurse has not a thing to do But be happy and sigh Boo! While Mamma just nods, and knows Nothing but to doze and doze : Never litter round the grate ; Never lunch or dinner late ; Never any household din Peals without or rings within Baby coos nor laughing calls On the stairs or through the halls- Just Great Hushes to and fro Pace the Land of Thus-and-So ! 122 THE LAND OF THUS-AND-SO "Oh! the Land of Thus-and-So! Isn t it delightful, though?" "Yes," lisped Willie, answering me Somewhat slow and doubtfully "Must be awful nice, but I Ruther wait till by and by Fore I go there maybe when I be dead I ll go there then. But" the troubled little face Closer pressed in my embrace "Le s don t never ever go To the Land of Thus-and-So!" 123 GRANDFATHER SQUEERS "MY grandfather Squeers," said The Raggedy Man, As he solemnly lighted his pipe and began "The most indestructible man, for his years, And the grandest on earth, was my grandfather Squeers ! "He said, when he rounded his threescore-and-ten, I ve the hang of it now and can do it again ! "He had frozen his heels so repeatedly, he Could tell by them just what the weather would be ; "And would laugh and declare, while the Alma nac would Most falsely prognosticate, he never could ! "Such a hale constitution had grandfather Squeers That, though he d used navy for sixty-odd years, "He still chewed a dime s-worth six days of the week, While the seventh he passed with a chew in each cheek. 124 GRANDFATHER SQUEERS "Then my grandfather Squeers had a singular knack Of sitting around on the small of his back, "With his legs like a letter Y stretched o er the grate Wherein twas his custom to ex-pec-tor-ate. "He was fond of tobacco in manifold ways, And would sit on the door-step, of sunshiny days, "And smoke leaf -tobacco he d raised strictly for The pipe he d used all through The Mexican War. " And The Raggedy Man said, refilling the bowl Of his own pipe and leisurely picking a coal From the stove with his finger and thumb, "You can see What a tee-nacious habit he s fastened on me! And my grandfather Squeers took a special de light In pruning his corns every Saturday night GRANDFATHER SQUEERS With a horn-handled razor, whose edge he excused By saying twas one that his grandfather used ; "And, though deeply etched in the haft of the same Was the ever-euphonious Wostenholm s name, " Twas my grandfather s custom to boast of the blade As A Seth Thomas razor the best ever made ! "No Old Settlers Meeting, or Pioneers Fair, Was complete without grandfather Squeers in the chair, "To lead off the program by telling folks how He used to shoot deer where the Court-House stands now "How he felt, of a truth, to live over the past, When the country was wild and unbroken and vast, " That the little log cabin was just plenty fine For himself, his companion, and fambly of nine ! 126 GRANDFATHER SQUKERS " When they didn t have even a pump, or a tin, But drunk surface-water, year out and year in, " From the old-fashioned gourd that was sweeter, by odds, Than the goblets of gold at the lips of the gods! " Then The Raggedy Man paused to plaintively say It was clockin along to rds the close of the day And he d ought to get back to his work on the lawn, Then dreamily blubbered his pipe and went on : "His teeth were imperfect my grandfather owned That he couldn t eat oysters unless they were boned ; "And his eyes were so weak, and so feeble of sight, He couldn t sleep with them unless, every night, "He put on his spectacles all he possessed, Three pairs with his goggles on top of the rest. "And my grandfather always, retiring at night, Blew down the lamp-chimney to put out the light ; 127 GRANDFATHER SQUEERS 4 Then he d curl up on edge like a shaving, in bed, And puff and smoke pipes in his sleep, it is said: "And would snore oftentimes, as the legends re late, Till his folks were wrought up to a terrible state, "Then he d snort, and rear up, and roll over; and there In the subsequent hush they could hear him chew air. "And so glaringly bald was the top of his head That many s the time he has musingly said, "As his eyes journeyed o er its reflex in the glass, I must set out a few signs of Keej> Off the Grass T "So remarkably deaf was my grandfather Squeers That he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears "To even hear thunder and oftentimes then He was forced to request it to thunder again." 128 THE LITTLE TINY KICKSHAW O THE little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me, Tis sweeter than the sugar-plum that reepens on the tree, Wi denty flavorin s o spice an musky rosemarie, The little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me. Tis luscious wi the stalen tang o fruits frae ower the sea, An e en its fragrance gars me laugh wi langin lip an ee, Till a its frazen sheen o white maun melten hinnie be Sae weel I luve the kickshaw that Mither sent tae me. O I luve the tiny kickshaw, an I smack my lips wi glee, Aye mickle do I luve the taste o sic a luxourie, But maist I luve the luvein han s that could the giftie gie O the little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me. 9 I3 9 THE LUGUBRIOUS WHING-WHANG THE rhyme o* The Raggedy Man s at s best Is Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs, Cause that-un s the strangest of all o the rest, An the worst to learn, an the last one guessed, An the funniest one, an the foolishest. Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! I don t know what in the world it means Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! An nen when I tell him I don t, he leans Like he was a-grindin on some machines An says: Ef I don t, w y, I don t know beans! Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! Out on the margin of Moonshine Land, Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs ! Out where the Whing- Whang loves to stand, Writing his name with his tail in the sand, And swiping it out with his oogerish hand ; Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! 130 THE LUGUBRIOUS WHING-WHANG Is it the gibber of Gungs or Keeks ? Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! Or what is the sound that the Whing- Whang seeks ? Crouching low by the winding creeks, And holding his breath for weeks and weeks ! Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! Aroint him the wraithest of wraithly things ! Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! Tis a fair Whing- Whangess, with phosphor rings, And bridal-jewels of fangs and stings; And she sits and as sadly and softly sings As the mildewed whir of her own dead wings, Tickle me, Dear, Tickle me here, Tickle me, Love, in me Lonesome Ribs! THE WAY THE BABY WOKE AND this is the way the baby woke : As when in deepest drops of dew The shine and shadows sink and soak, The sweet eyes glimmered through and through ; And eddyings and dimples broke About the lips, and no one knew Or could divine the words they spoke And this is the way the baby woke. 132 McFEETERS FOURTH IT was needless to say twas a glorious day, And to boast of it all in that spread-eagle way That our Forefathers had since the hour of the birth Of this most patriotic republic on earth ! But twas justice, of course, to admit that the sight Of the old Stars-and-Stripes was a thing of delight In the eyes of a fellow, however he tried To look on the day with a dignified pride That meant not to brook any turbulent glee Or riotous flourish of loud jubilee ! So argued McFeeters, all grim and severe, Who the long night before, with a feeling of fear, Had slumbered but fitfully, hearing the swish Of the sky rocket over his roof, with the wish That the boy-fiend who fired it were fast to the end Of the stick to for ever and ever ascend ! Or to hopelessly ask why the boy with the horn And its horrible havoc had ever been born ! Or to wish, in his wakefulness, staring aghast, That this Fourth of July were as dead as the last ! 133 MCFEETKRS FOURTH So, yesterday morning, McFeeters arose, With a fire in his eyes, and a cold in his nose, And a guttural voice in appropriate key With a temper as gruff as a temper could be. He growled at the servant he met on the stair, Because he was whistling a national air, And he growled at the maid on the balcony, who Stood enrapt with the tune of "The Red-White- and-Blue" That a band was discoursing like mad in the street, With drumsticks that banged, and with cymbals that beat. And he growled at his wife, as she buttoned his vest, And applausively pinned a rosette on his breast Of the national colors, and lured from his purse Some change for the boys for fire-crackers or worse ; And she pointed with pride to a soldier in blue In a frame on the wall, and the colors there, too; And he felt, as he looked on the features, the glow The painter found there twenty long years ago, 34 MCFEETERS FOURTH And a passionate thrill in his breast, as he felt Instinctively round for the sword in his belt. What was it that hung like a mist o er the room ? The tumult without and the music the boom Of the cannon the blare of the bugle and fife ? No matter! McFeeters was kissing his wife, And laughing and crying and waving his hat Like a genuine soldier, and crazy, at that ! Was it needless to say twas a glorious day And to boast of it all in that spread-eagle way That our Forefathers had since the hour of the birth Of this most patriotic republic on earth ? 135 LITTLE MANDY S CHRISTMAS-TREE LITTLE Mandy and her Ma S porest folks you ever saw! Lived in porest house in town, Where the fence uz all tore down. And no front-door steps at all 1st a old box g inst the wall; And no door-knob on the door Outside. My I but they uz pore! Wuz no winder-shutters on, And some of the winders gone, And where they uz broke they d pas e 1st brown paper crost the place. Tell you ! when it s winter there, And the snow ist ever where, Little Mandy s Ma she say Spec they ll freeze to death some day. Wunst my Ma and me when we Be n to church, and s goin to be Chris mus purty soon, we went There like the Committee sent. 136 LITTLE MANDY S CHRISTMAS-TREE And-sirl when we re in the door, Wuz no carpet on the floor, And no fire and heels-and-head Little Mandy s tucked in bed! And her Ma telled my Ma she Got no coffee but ist tea, And fried mush and s all they had Sence her health broke down so bad, Nen Ma hug and hold me where Little Mandy s layin there; And she kiss her, too, and nen Mandy kiss my Ma again. And my Ma she telled her *we Coin to have a Chris mus-Tree, At the Sund y School, at s fer ALL the childern, and fer her. Little Mandy think nen she Say, "What is a Chris mus-Tree?" Nen my Ma she gived her Ma Somepin at I never saw, 137 LITTLE MANDY S CHRISTMAS-TREE And say she must take it, and She ist maked her keep her hand Wite close shut, and nen she kiss Her hand shut ist like it is. Nen we corned away. . . . And nen When its Chris mus Eve again, And all of us childerns be At the Church and Chris mus-Tree - And all git our toys and things At old Santy Claus he brings And puts on the Tree ; wite where The big Tree uz standin there, And the things uz all tooked down, And the childerns, all in town, Got their presents nen we see They s a little Chris mus-Tree Wite behind the big Tree so We can t see till nen, you know, And it s all ist loaded down With the purtiest things in town! 138 LITTLE MANDY S CHRISTMAS-TREE And the teacher smile and say: "This-here Tree at s hid away It s marked <- Little Mandy s Tree. - Little Mandy! Where is she?" Nen nobody say a word. Stillest place you ever heard! Till a man tiptoe up where Teacher s still a-waitin there. Nen the man he whispers, so 1st the Teacher hears, you know. Nen he tiptoe back and go Out the big door ist as slow ! Little Mandy, though, she don t Answer and Ma say "she won t Never, though each year they ll be Little Mandy s Chris mus-Tree Fer pore childern" my Ma says And Committee say they guess "Little Mandy s Tree" ull be Bigger than the other Tree ! THE FUNNIEST THING IN THE WORLD THE funniest thing in the world, I know, Is watchin the monkeys at s in the show! Jumpin an runnin an racin roun , Way up the top o the pole; nen down! First they re here, an nen they re there, An ist a most any an ever where! Screechin an scratchin wherever they go, They re the funniest thing in the world, I know! They re the funniest thing in the world, I think; Funny to watch em eat an drink; Funny to watch em a-watchin us, An actin most like grown folks does! Funny to watch em p tend to be Skeerd at their tail at they happen to see; But the funniest thing in the world they do Is never to laugh, like me an you! 140 LITTLE JOHNTS S CHRIS MUS WE got it up a-purpose, jes fer little Johnts, you know; His mother was so pore an all, an* had to man age so Jes bein a War-widder, an her pension mighty slim, She d take in weavin , er work out, er anything fer him ! An little Johnts was puny-like but law, the nerve he had! You d want to kindo pity him, but couldn t, very bad, His pants o army-blanket an his coat o faded blue Kep hintin of his father like, an pity wouldn t do ! So we collogued together, onc t, one winter-time, at we Jes me an mother an the girls, an Wilse, John- Jack an Free 141 LITTLE JOHNTS S CHRIS*MUS Would jine an git up little Johnts, by time at Chris mus come, Some sort o doin s, don t you know, at would su prise him some. An so, all on the quiet, Mother she turns in an* gits Some blue-janes cuts an makes a suit ; an then sets down an knits A pair o little galluses to go long with the rest An putts in a red-flannen bacJ , an buckle on the vest. The little feller d be n so much around our house, you see, An be n sich he p to her an all, an handy as could be, At Mother couldn t do too much fer little Johnts No, Sir! She ust to jes declare at u he was meat-an -drimV to her!" 142 LITTLE JOHNTS S CHRIS MUS An Piney, Lide, an Madaline they watch their chance an rid To Fountaintown with Lijey s folks ; an bought a book, they did, O fairy tales, with pictur s in ; an got a little pair O red-top boots at John- Jack said he d be n a- pricin there. An Lide got him a little sword, an Madaline, a drum ; An shootin -crackers Lawzy-day! an they re so danger-some ! An Piney, ever time the rest ud buy some other toy, She d take an turn in then an ? buy more candy f er the boy ! "Well," thinks-says-I, when they got back, "your pocket-books is dry!" But little Johnts was there hisse f that afternoon, so I Well, all of us kep* mighty mum, tel we got him away By tellin him be shore an come to-morry Chris - mus Day H3 LITTLE JOHNTS S CHRIS *MUS An fetch his mother long with him ! An* how he scud acrost The fields his towhead, in the dusk, jes like a streak o frost! His comfert fluttern as he run an* old Tige, don t you know, A-jumpin high for rabbits an* a ploughin up the snow! It must a be n most ten that night afore we got to bed With Wilse an John- Jack he ppin us ; an Free man in the shed, An Lide out with the lantern while he trimmed the Chris mus Tree Out of a little scrub-oak-top at suited to a "T" ! All night I dreamp o hearin things a-skulkin round the place An "Old Kriss," with his whiskers off, an freck les on his face An reindeers, shaped like shavin -hosses at the cooper-shop, A-stickin down the chimbly, with their heels out at the top ! 144 LITTLE JOHNTS S CHRIS* MUS By time at Mother got me up twas plum day light an* more The front yard full o neighbers all a-crowdin round the door, With Johnts s mother leadin 3 ; yes an little Johnts hisse f, Set up on Freeman s shoulder, like a jug up on theshe f! Of course I can t describe it when they all got in to where We d conjered up the Chris mus-Tree an* all the fixin s there! Fer all the shouts o laughture clappin hands, an crackin jokes, Was heap o kissin goin on amongst the women folks: Fer, lo-behold-ye ! there they had that young-un ! An his chin A-wobblin -like ; an , shore enough, at last he started in An sich another bellerin , in all my mortal days, I never heerd, er spect to hear, in woe s app inted ways! 10 145 LITTLE JOHNTS S CHRIS* MUS An Mother grabs him up an says: "It s more n he can bear- It s all too suddent fer the child, an too su prisin ! There!" "Oh, no it ain t" sobbed little Johnts "I ain t su prised but I m A-cryin cause I watched you all, an* knowed it all the time!" THE ORCHARD LANDS OF LONG AGO THE orchard lands of Long Ago ! O drowsy winds, awake, and blow The snowy blossoms back to me, And all the buds that used to be ! Blow back along the grassy ways Of truant feet, and lift the haze Of happy summer from the trees That trail their tresses in the seas Of grain that float and overflow The orchard lands of Long Ago ! Blow back the melody that slips In lazy laughter from the lips That marvel much if any kiss Is sweeter than the apple s is. Blow back the twitter of the birds The lisp, the titter, and the words 147 THE ORCHARD LANDS OF LONG AGO Of merriment that found the shine Of summer-time a gloriou t s_w.ine ... That drenched the leaves that loved it so, In orchard lands of Long Ago ! -* f . . O memory ! alight and sing Where rosy-bellied pippins cling, And golden russets glTm and gleam, As, in the old Arabi&n^ dream, The fruits of that endhanted tree The glad Aladdin robbed for me ! And, drowsy winds, awake and fan My blood as when it overran A heart ripe as the apples grow In orchard lands of Long Ago ! 148 THE BOYS CANDIDATE LAS time at Uncle Sidney come, He bringed a watermelon home An half the boys in town Come taggin after him. An he Says, when we et it, " Gracious me! S the boy-house fell down?" 149 THE BUMBLEBEE You better not fool with a Bumblebee ! Ef you don t think they can sting you ll see! They re lazy to look at, an kindo go Buzzin an bummin aroun so slow, An ac ? so slouchy an all fagged out, Danglin their legs as they drone about The hollyhawks at they can t climb in Ithout ist a-tumble-un out ag in! Wunst I watched one climb clean way In a jimson-blossom, I did, one day, An I ist grabbed it an nen let go An Ooh-ooh ! Honey I I told ye so !" Says the Raggedy Man ; an he ist run An* pullt out the stinger, an don t laugh none, An says: "TheyAa^ be n folks, I guess, At thought I wuz prejudust, more er less, Yit I still muntain at a Bumblebee Wears out his welcome too quick fer me!" 5 HE CALLED HER IN I HE called her in from me and shut the door. And she so loved the sunshine and the sky ! She loved them even better yet than I That ne er knew dearth of them my mother dead, Nature had nursed me in her lap instead : And I had grown a dark and eerie child That rarely smiled, Save when, shut all alone in grasses high, Looking straight up in God s great lonesome sky And coaxing Mother to smile back on me. Twas lying thus, this fair girl suddenly Came on me, nestled in the fields beside A pleasant-seeming home, with doorway wide The sunshine beating in upon the floor Like golden rain. O sweet, sweet face above me, turn again And leave me! I had cried, but that an ache Within my throat so gripped it I could make 5 1 HE CALLED HER IN No sound but a thick sobbing. Cowering so, I felt her light hand laid Upon my hair a touch that ne er before Had tamed me thus, all soothed and unafraid It seemed the touch the children used to know When Christ was here, so dear it was so dear, At once I loved her as the leaves love dew In midmost summer when the days are new. Barely an hour I knew her, yet a curl Of silken sunshine did she clip for me Out of the bright May-morning of her hair, And bound and gave it to me laughingly, And caught my hands and called me ;< Little girl ," Tiptoeing, as she spoke, to kiss me there ! And I stood dazed and dumb for very stress Of my great happiness. She plucked me by the gown, nor saw how mean The raiment drew me with her everywhere : Smothered her face in tufts of grasses green : Put up her dainty hands and peeped between Her ringers at the blossoms crooned and talked To them in strange, glad whispers, as we walked, Said this one was her angel mother Her baby-sister come back, for a kiss, HE CALLED HER IN Clean from the Good- World! smiled and kissed them, then Closed her soft eyes and kissed them o er again. And so did she beguile me so we played, She was the dazzling Shine I, the dark Shade And we did mingle like to these, and thus, Together, made The perfect summer, pure and glorious. So blent we, till a harsh voice broke upon Our happiness. She, startled as a fawn, Cried, "Oh, tis Father! " all the blossoms gone From out her cheeks as those from out her grasp. Harsher the voice came : She could only gasp Affrightedly, "Good-bye! good-bye! good bye!" And lo, I stood alone, with that harsh cry Ringing a new and unknown sense of shame Through soul and frame, And, with wet eyes, repeating o er and o er, "He called her in from me and shut the door!" 53 HE CALLED HER IN II He called her in from me and shut the door ! And I went wandering alone again So lonely O so very lonely then, I thought no little sallow star, alone In all a world of twilight, e er had known Such utter loneliness. But that I wore Above my heart that gleaming tress of hair To lighten up the night of my despair, I think I might have groped into my grave Nor cared to wave The ferns above it with a breath of prayer. And how I hungered for the sweet, sweet face That bent above me in my hiding-place That day amid the grasses there beside Her pleasant home! "tter pleasant home! I sighed, Remembering; then shut my teeth and feigned The harsh voice calling me, then clinched my nails So deeply in my palms, the sharp wounds pained, And tossed my face toward heaven, as one who pales 54 V- OF THE UNIVERSITY HE CALLED HER IN In splendid martyrdom, with soul serene, As near to God as high the guillotine. And I had envied her? Not that O no! But I had longed for some sweet haven so! Wherein the tempest-beaten heart might ride Sometimes at peaceful anchor, and abide Where those that loved me touched me with their hands, And looked upon me with glad eyes, and slipped Smooth fingers o er my brow, and lulled the strands Of my wild tresses, as they backward tipped My yearning face and kissed it satisfied. Then bitterly I murmured as before, "He called her in from me and shut the door!" Ill He called her in from me and shut the door! After long struggling with my pride and pain A weary while it seemed, in which the more I held myself from her, the greater fain Was I to look upon her face again; At last at last half conscious where my feet Were faring, I stood waist-deep in the sweet Green grasses there where she First came to me. 55 HE CALLED HER IN The very blossoms she had plucked that day, And, at her father s voice, had cast away, Around me lay, Still bright and blooming in these eyes of mine ; And as I gathered each one eagerly, I pressed it to my lips and drank the wine Her kisses left there for the honey-bee. Then, after I had laid them with the tress Of her bright hair with lingering tenderness, I, turning, crept on to the hedge that bound Her pleasant-seeming home but all around Was never sign of her! The windows all Were blinded ; and I heard no rippling fall Of her glad laugh, nor any harsh voice call ; But, clutching to the tangled grasses, caught A sound as though a strong man bowed his head And sobbed alone unloved uncomforted ! And then straightway before My tearless eyes, all vividly, was wrought A vision that is with me evermore: A little girl that lies asleep, nor hears Nor heeds not any voice nor fall of tears. - And I sit singing o er and o er and o er, "God called her in from him and shut the door!" 156 THE BOY-FRIEND CLARENCE, my boy-friend, hale and strong! O he is as jolly as he is young; And all of the laughs of the lyre belong To the boy all unsung : So I want to sing something in his behalf To clang some chords, for the good it is To know he is near, and to have the laugh Of that wholesome voice of his. I want to tell him in gentler ways Than prose may do, that the arms of rhyme, Warm and tender with tuneful praise, Are about him all the time. I want him to know that the quietest nights We have passed together are yet with me, Roistering over the old delights That were born of his company. 57 THE BOY-FRIEND I want him to know how my soul esteems The fairy stories of Andersen, And the glad translations of all the themes Of the hearts of boyish men. Want him to know that my fancy flows, With the lilt of a dear old-fashioned tune, Through "Lewis Carroll s" poemly prose, And the tale of "The Bold Dragoon." O this is the Prince that I would sing Would drape and garnish in velvet line, Since courtlier far than any king Is this brave boy-friend of mine. 58 WHEN THE WORLD BU STS THROUGH [ Casually Suggested by an Earthquake} WHERE S a boy a-goin , An what s he goin to do, An how s he goin to do it, When the world bu sts through? Ma she says "she can t tell What we re comin to!" An Pop says "he s ist skeered Clean plum through ! S pose we d be a-playin Out in the street, An the ground ud split up Bout forty feet! Ma says "she ist knows We ud tumble in"; An Pop says "he bets you Nen we wouldn t grin!" S pose we d ist be tendin* Like we had a show, Down in the stable Where we mustn go,- 159 WHEN THE WORLD BU STS THROUGH Ma says, "The earthquake Might make it fall"; An Pop says, "More n like S waller barn an all!" Landy ! ef we both wuz Runnin way from school, Out in the shady woods Where it s all so cool! Ma says "a big tree Might sqush our head"; An Pop says, "Chop em out Both killed dead!" But where s a boy goin , An* what s he goin to do, An* how s he goin to do it, Ef the world bu sts through? Ma she says "she can t tell What we re comin to!" An* Pop says "he s ist skeered Clean plum through ! " 160 A PROSPECTIVE GLIMPSE JANEY PETTIBONE s the best Little girl an purtiest In this town ! an* lives next door, Up-stairs over their old store. Little Janey Pettibone An her Ma lives all alone, Cause her Pa broke up, an nen Died cause they ain t rich again. Little Janey s Ma she sews Fer my Ma sometimes, an goes An gives music-lessuns where People s got pianers there. But when Janey Pettibone Grows an grows, like I m a growin , Nen I m go to keep a store, An sell things an sell some more Till I m ist as rich! An nen Her Ma can be rich again, Ef I m rich enough to own Little Janey Pettibone ! II 161 THE OLD TRAMP A J OLD Tramp slep in our stable wunst, An The Raggedy Man he caught An roust him up, an chased him off Clean out through our back lot ! An th old Tramp hollered back an said,- "You re a purty man! You air! With a pair o eyes like two fried eggs, An a nose like a Bartlutt pear!" 162 CURLY LOCKS Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine? Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine, But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream. Curly Locks ! Curly Locks ! wilt thou be mine ? The throb of my heart is in every line, And the pulse of a passion as airy and glad In its musical beat as the little Prince had ! Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine ! O I ll dapple thy hands with these kisses of mine Till the pink of the nail of each finger shall be As a little pet blush in full blossom for me. But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, And thou shalt have fabric as fair as a dream, The red of my veins, and the white of my love, And the gold of my joy for the braiding thereof. 163 CURLY LOCKS And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream From a service of silver, with jewels agleam, At thy feet will I bide, at thy beck will I rise, And twinkle my soul in the night of thine eyes ! Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine? Thou shall not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine, But sit on a cushion and sew a Jine seam, And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream. THE PET COON NOEY BIXLER ketched him, an fetched him in to me When he s ist a little teenty-weenty baby-coon Bout as big as little pups, an tied him to a tree ; An Pa gived Noey fifty cents, when he come home at noon. Nen he buyed a chain fer him, an little collar, too, An sawed a hole in a old tub an turnt it upside down; An little feller d stay in there and won t come out fer you Tendin like he s kindo skeered o boys at lives in town. Now he ain t afeard a bit! he s ist so fat an tame, We on y chain him up at night, to save the little chicks. Holler "Greedy! Greedy!" to him, an he knows his name, An here he ll come a-waddle-un, up fer any tricks I THE PET COON He ll climb up my leg, he will, an* waller in my lap, An poke his little black paws way in my pock ets where They s beechnuts, er chinkypins, er any little scrap Of anything at s good to eat an he don t care ! An he s as spunky as you please, an don t like dogs at all. Billy Miller s black-an -tan tackled him one day, An "Greedy" he ist kindo doubled all up like a ball, An Billy s dog he gived a yelp er two an runned away! An nen when Billy fighted me, an hit me with a bone, An Ma she purt nigh ketched him as he dodged an scooted through The fence, she says, "You better let my little boy alone, Or Greedy, next he whips yer dog, shall whip you, too!" 1 66 A NONSENSE RHYME RlNGLETY-JING ! And what will we sing? Some little crinkety-crankety thing That rhymes and chimes, And skips, sometimes, As though wound up with a kink in the spring. Grunkety-krung ! And chunkety-plung ! Sing the song that the bullfrog sung, A song of the soul Of a mad tadpole That met his fate in a leaky bowl : And it s O for the first false wiggle he made In a sea of pale pink lemonade ! And it s O for the thirst Within him pent, And the hopes that burst As his reason went When his strong arm failed and his strength was spent ! 167 A NONSENSE RHYME Sing, O sing Of the things that cling, And the claws that clutch and the fangs that sting Till the tadpole s tongue And his tail upflung Quavered and failed with a song unsung ! O the dank despair in the rank morass, Where the crawfish crouch in the cringing grass, And the long limp rune of the loon wails on For the mad, sad soul Of a bad tadpole Forever lost and gone ! Jinglety-jee ! And now we ll see What the last of the lay shall be, As the dismal tip of the tune, O friends, Swoons away and the long tale ends. And it s O and alack! For the tangled legs And the spangled back Of the green grig s eggs, 1 68 A NONSENSE RHYME And the unstrung strain Of the strange refrain That the winds wind up like a strand of rain ! And it s O, Also, For the ears wreathed low, Like a laurel- wreath on the lifted brow Of the frog that chants of the why and how, And the wherefore too, and the thus and so Of the wail he weaves in a woof of woe ! Twangle, then, with your wrangling strings, The tinkling links of a thousand things ! And clang the pang of a maddening moan Till the Echo, hid in a land unknown, Shall leap as he hears, and hoot and hoo Like the wretched wraith of a Whoopty-Doo ! 169 NAUGHTY CLAUDE WHEN Little Claude was naughty wunst At dinner-time, an said He won t say "Thank you" to his Ma, She maked him go to bed An stay two hours an not git up, So when the clock struck Two, Nen Claude says, "Thank you, Mr. Clock, I m much obleeged to you!" 170 THE OLD, OLD WISH LAST night, in some lost mood of meditation, The while my dreamy vision ranged the far Unfathomable arches of creation, I saw a falling star: And as my eyes swept round the path it embered With the swift-dying glory of its glow, With sudden intuition I remembered, A wish of long ago A wish that, were it made so ran the fancy Of credulous young lover and of lass As fell a star, by some strange necromancy, Would surely come to pass. And, of itself, the wish, reiterated A thousand times in youth, flashed o er my brain, And, like the star, as soon obliterated, Dropped into night again. 171 THE OLD, OLD WISH For my old heart had wished for the unending Devotion of a little maid of nine And that the girl-heart, with the woman s blend ing, Might be forever mine. And so it was, with eyelids raised, and weighty With ripest clusterings of sorrow s dew, I cried aloud through heaven: "O little Katie! When will my wish come true?" 172 I/ 44 THE PREACHER S BOY I RICKOLLECT the little tad, back, years and years ago "The Preacher s Boy" that every one despised and hated so ! A meek-faced little feller, with white eyes and foxy hair, And a look like he expected ser ous trouble every where : A sort o fixed expression of suspicion in his glance ; His bare-feet always scratched with briers ; and green stains on his pants ; Molasses-marks along his sleeves; his cap-rim turned behind And so it is "The Preacher s Boy" is brought again to mind ! My fancy even brings the sly marauder back so plain, I see him jump our garden-fence and slip off down the lane ; 173 4 THE PREACHER S BOY" And I seem to holler at him and git back the old reply: "Oh, no: your peaches is too green fer such a worm as I!" Fer he scorned his father s phrases every holy one he had "As good a man," folks put it, "as that boy of his was bad!" And again from their old buggy-shed, I hear the "rod unspared" Of course that never "spoiled the child" for which nobody cared ! If any neighber ever found his gate without a latch, Or rines around the edges of his watermelon-patch ; His pasture-bars left open; or his pump-spout chocked with clay, He d swear twas "that infernal Preacher s Boy," right away! When strings was stretched acrost the street at night, and some one got An everlastin tumble, and his nose broke, like as not, 174 "THE PREACHER S And laid it on "The Preacher s Boy" no powers, low ner high, Could ever quite substantiate that boy s alibi ! And did nobody like the boy? Well, all the fets in town Would eat out of his fingers ; and canaries would come down And leave their swingin perches and their fish bone jist to pick The little warty knuckles that the dogs would leap to lick. No little snarlin , snappin* fiste but what would leave his bone To foller, ef he whistled, in that tantalizin tone That made the goods-box whittlerblasphemeously protest "He couldn t tell, twixt dog and boy, which one was ornriest!" Twas such a little cur as this, onc t, when the crowd was thick Along the streets, a drunken corner-loafer tried to kick, 75 u THE PREACHER S BOY" When a sudden foot behind him tripped him up, and falling so He "marked his man," and jerked his gun drawed up and let er go ! And the crowd swarmed round the victimhold ing close against his breast The little dog unharmed, in arms that still, as they caressed, Grew rigid in their last embrace, as with a smile of joy He recognized the dog was saved. So died "The Preacher s Boy"! When it appeared, before the Squire, that fatal pistol-ball Was fired at "a dangerous beast," and not the boy at all, And the facts set forth established it was like-be- fittin then To order out a possy of- the "city councilmen" To kill the dog I But, strange to tell, they searched the country round, And never hide-ner-hair of that "said" dog was ever found ! 176 And, somehow, then I sorto thought and half way think, to-day The spirit of "The Preacher s Boy" had whistled him away. 177 AN IMPETUOUS RESOLVE WHEN little Dickie Swope s a man, He s go to be a Sailor; An little Hamey Tincher, he s A-go to be a Tailor: Bud Mitchell, he s a-go to be A stylish Carriage-Maker; An when /grow a grea -big man, I m go to be a Baker! An Dick ll buy his sailor-suit O Hame; an Hame ll take it An buy as fine a double-rig As ever Bud kin make it: An nen all three 11 drive roun fer me, An we ll drive off togevver, A-slingin pie-crust long the road Ferever an ferever! 178 A SUDDEN SHOWER BAREFOOTED boys scud up the street Or scurry under sheltering sheds ; And school-girl faces, pale and sweet, Gleam from the shawls about their heads. Doors bang; and mother-voices call From alien homes ; and rusty gates Are slammed; and high above it all, The thunder grim reverberates. And then, abrupt, the rain! the rain! The earth lies gasping ; and the eyes Behind the streaming window-pane Smile at the trouble of the skies. The highway smokes; sharp echoes ring; The cattle bawl and cow-bells clank; And into town comes galloping The farmer s horse, with steaming flank. 179 A SUDDEN SHOWER The swallow dips beneath the eaves And flirts his plumes and folds his wings ; And under the Catawba leaves The caterpillar curls and clings. The bumblebee is pelted down The wet stem of the hollyhock ; And sullenly, in spattered brown, The cricket leaps the garden-walk. Within, the baby claps his hands And crows with rapture strange and vague ; Without, beneath the rose-bush stands A dripping rooster on one leg. 180 THE HUNTER BOY HUNTER BOY of Hazelwood Happier than Robin Hood ! Dance across the green, and stand Suddenly, with lifted hand Shading eager eyes, and be Thus content to capture me! Cease thy quest for wilder prey Than my willing heart to-day ! Hunter Boy! with belt and bow, Bide with me, or let me go, An thou wilt, in wake of thee, Questing for my mine infancy ! With thy glad face in the sun, Let thy laughter overrun Thy ripe lips, until mine own Answer, ringing, tone for tone ! 181 THE HUNTER BOY O my Hunter ! tilt the cup Of thy silver bugle up, And like wine pour out for me All its limpid melody! Pout thy happy lips and blare Music s kisses everywhere Whiff o er forest, field and town, Tufts of tune like thistle-down ! O to go, as once I could, Hunter Boy of Hazelwood ! 182 A CHILD S HOME LONG AGO The happy mother, humming, with her wheel, The dear old melodies that used to steal So drowsily upon the summer air, The house-dog hid his bone, forgot his care, And nestled at her feet, to dream, perchance, Some cooling dream of winter-time romance : The square of sunshine through the open door That notched its edge across the puncheon floor, And made a golden coverlet whereon The god of slumber had a picture drawn Of Babyhood, in all the loveliness Of dimpled cheek and limb and linsey dress : The bough-filled fireplace, and the mantel wide, Its fire-scorched ankles stretched on either side, Where, perched upon its shoulders neath the joist, The old clock hiccoughed, harsh and husky-voiced, And snarled the premonition, dire and dread, When it should hammer Time upon the head: Tomatoes, red and yellow, in a row, Preserved not then for diet, but for show, Like rare and precious jewels in the rough Whose worth was not appraised at half enough: The jars of jelly, with their dusty tops ; The bunch of pennyroyal ; the cordial drops ; 187 A CHILD S HOME LONG AGO The flask of camphor, and the vial of squills, The box of buttons, garden-seeds, and pills ; And, ending all the mantel s bric-a-brac, The old, time-honored "Family Almanack." And memory, with a mother s touch of love, Climbs with us to the dusky loft above, Where drowsily we trail our ringers in The mealy treasures of the harvest bin ; And, feeling with our hands the open track, We pat the bag of barley on the back ; And, groping onward through the mellow gloom, We catch the hidden apple s faint perfume, And, mingling with it, fragrant hints of pear And musky melon ripening somewhere. Again we stretch our limbs upon the bed Where first our simple childish prayers were said ; And while, without, the gallant cricket trills A challenge to the solemn whippoorwills, And, filing on the chorus with his glee, The katydid whets all the harmony To feather-edge of incoherent song, We drop asleep, and peacefully along The current of our dreams we glide away To the dim harbor of another day. 1 88 BILLY GOODIN " A big piece o pie, and a big piece o puddin* I laid it all by fer little Billy Goodirf !" BOY-POET. LOOK so neat an* sweet in all yer frills an fancy pleatin ! Better shet yer kitchen, though, afore you go to Meetin ! Better hide yer mince-meat an stewed fruit an plums ! Better hide yer pound-cake an* bresh away the crumbs ! Better hide yer cubbord-key when Billy Goodin comes, A-eatin ! an* a-eatin J an a-eatin ! Sight o Sund y-doin s done at ain t done in Meetin ! Sun acrostyer garden-patch a-pourin an a-beatin ; Meller apples drappin in the weeds an* roun the groun Clingstones an* sugar-pears a-ist a-plunkin down! Better kindo comb the grass fore Billy comes aroun , A-eatin ! an* a-eatin I an* a-eatin ! Billy Goodin ain t a-go to go to any Meetin ! We ull watch an ketch an give the little sneak a beatin ! Better hint we want o stay *n snoop yer grapes an plums! Better eat em all yerse f an* suck yer stingy thumbs! Won t be nothin* anyhow when Billy Goodin comes ! A-eatinM an* a-eatinM an a-eatin I 190 A PASSING HAIL LET us rest ourselves a bit ! Worry? wave your hand to it Kiss your finger tips, and smile It farewell a little while. Weary of the weary way We have come from Yesterday, Let us fret us not, instead, Of the weary way ahead. Let us pause and catch our breath On the hither side of death, While we see the tender shoots Of the grasses not the roots, While we yet look down not up To seek out the buttercup And the daisy where they wave O er the green home of the grave. 191 A PASSING HAIL Let us launch us smoothly on The soft billows of the lawn, And drift out across the main Of our childish dreams again: Voyage off, beneath the trees, O er the field s enchanted seas, Where the lilies are our sails, And our sea-gulls, nightingales: Where no wilder storm shall beat Than the wind that waves the wheat, And no tempest-burst above The old laughs we used to love: Lose all troubles gain release, Languor, and exceeding peace, Cruising idly o er the vast, Calm mid-ocean of the Past. Let us rest ourselves a bit ! Worry ? Wave your hand to it- Kiss your finger-tips, and smile It farewell a little while. 193 PRIOR TO MISS BELLE S APPEAR- WHAT makes you come here fer, Mister, So much to our house ? Say? Come to see our big sister! An Charley he says at you kissed her An he ketched you, th uther day! Didn you, Charley? But we p omised Belle An crossed our heart to never tell Cause she gived us some o them-er Chawk lut-drops at you bringed to her! Charley he s my little b uther An we has a-mostest fun, Don t we, Charley? Our Muther, Whenever we whips one-anuther, Tries to whip us an we run Don t we, Charley? An nen, bime-by ? Nen she gives us cake an pie Don t she, Charley? when we come in An p omise never to do it ag in! 3 193 PRIOR TO MISS BELLE S APPEARANCE He s named Charley. I m Willie An I m got the purtiest name ! But Uncle Bob he calls me "Billy" Don t he, Charley ? N our filly We named "Billy," the same 1st like me ! An* our Ma said At "Bob puts foolishnuss into our head!"- Didn she, Charley? An she don t know Much about boys! Cause Bob said so! Baby s a funniest feller! Nain t no hair on his head Is they, Charley? It s meller Wite up there ! An ef Belle er Us ask wus we that way, Ma said, "Yes ; an yer Pa s head wuz soft as that, An it s that way yet!" An Pa grabs his hat An says, "Yes, childern, she s right about Pa- Cause that s the reason he married yer Ma!" An our Ma says at "Belle couldn Ketch nothin at all but ist bows /" An Pa says at "you re soft as puddun!" An Uncle Bob says "you re a good-un Cause he can tell by yer nose!" PRIOR TO MISS BELLE S APPEARANCE Didn he, Charley? An when Belle 11 play In the poller on th pianer, some day, Bob makes up funny songs about you, Till she gits mad like he wants her to ! Our sister Fanny she s leven Years old! At s mucher an / Ain t it, Charley? . . . I m seven! But our sister Fanny s in heaven! Nere s where you go ef you die! Don t you, Charley? Nen you has wings 1st like Fanny I an fiurtiest things! Don t you, Charley? An nen you cany^y IK fly an* ever thing! . . . Wisht/Wdie! SONG FOR NOVEMBER WHILE skies glint bright with bluest light Through clouds that race o er field and town, And leaves go dancing left and right, And orchard apples tumble down ; While school-girls sweet, in lane or street, Lean gainst the wind and feel and hear Its glad heart like a lover s beat, So reigns the rapture of the year. Then ho I and hey! and whoop-hooray I Though winter clouds be looming, Remember a November day Is merrier than mildest May With all her blossoms blooming. While birds in scattered flight are blown Aloft and lost in bosky mist, And truant boys scud home alone Neath skies of gold and amethyst; 196 SONG FOR NOVEMBER While twilight falls, and echo calls Across the haunted atmosphere, With low, sweet laughs at intervals, So reigns the rapture of the year. Then ho I and hey! and whoop-hooray t Though winter clouds be looming, Remember a November day Is merrier than mildest May With all her blossoms blooming. HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB How slight a thing may set one s fancy drifting Upon the dead sea of the Past! A view Sometimes an odor or a rooster lifting A far-off "Oohl ook-oohf And suddenly we find ourselves astray In some wood s-pasture of the Long Ago Or idly dream again upon a day Of rest we used to know. I bit an apple but a moment since A wilted apple that the worm had spurned, Yet hidden in the taste were happy hints Of good old days returned. And so my heart, like some enraptured lute, Tinkles a tune so tender and complete, God s blessing must be resting on the fruit- So bitter, yet so sweet I BILLY COULD RIDE I BILLY was born for a horse s back! That s what Grandfather used to say: He d seen him in dresses, a-many a day, On a two-year-old, in the old barn-lot, Prancing around, with the bridle slack, And his two little sunburnt legs outshot So straight from the saddle-seat you d swear A spirit-level had plumbed him there ! And all the neighbors that passed the place Would just haul up in the road and stare To see the little chap s father boost The boy up there on his favorite roost, To canter off, with a laughing face. Put him up there, he was satisfied And O the way that Billy could ride ! 199 BILLY COULD RIDE n At celebration or barbecue And Billy, a boy of fifteen yean Couldn t he cut his didoes there ? What else would you expect him to, On his little mettlesome chestnut mare, With her slender neck, and her pointed ears, And the four little devilish hooves of hers ? The "delegation" moved too slow For the time that Billy wanted to go ! And to see him dashing out of the line At the edge of the road and down the side Of the long procession, all laws defied, And the fife and drums, was a sight divine To the girls, in their white-and-spangled pride, Wearily waving their scarfs about In the great "Big Wagon," all gilt without And jolt within, as they lumbered on Into the town where Billy had gone An hour ahead, like a knightly guide O but the way that Billy could ride ! 200 BILLY COULD RIDE III "Billy can ride! Oh, Billy can ride! But what on earth can he do beside?" That s what the farmers used to say, As time went by a year at a stride, And Billy was twenty if he was a day ! And many a wise old father s foot Was put right down where it should be put, While many a dutiful daughter sighed In vain for one more glorious ride With the gallant Billy, who none the less Smiled at the old man s selfishness And kissed his daughter, and rode away, Touched his horse in the flank and zipp I Talk about horses and horsemanship ! Folks stared after him just wild-eyed. . . . Oomh I the way that Billy could ride ! 201 SHE "DISPLAINS" IT HAD, too!" " Hadn t, neither!" So contended Bess and May Neighbor children, who were boasting Of their grandmammas, one day. "Had, too! "Hadn t, neither!" All the difference begun By May s saying she d two grandmas While poor Bess had only one. "Had, too!" "Hadn t, neither!" Tossing curls, and kinks of friz ! "How could you have two gran muvvers When ist one is all they is?" "Had, too!" "Hadn t, neither! Cause ef you had two," said Bess, "You d displain it !" Then May answered, gran mas wuz twins, I guess!" 202 THE WAY THE BABY SLEPT THIS is the way the baby slept : A mist of tresses backward thrown By quavering sighs where kisses crept With yearnings she had never known : The little hands were closely kept About a lily newly blown And God was with her. And we wept. And this is the way the baby slept. 203 THE JOLLY MILLER [Restored Romaunt~\ IT was a Jolly Miller lived on the River Dee ; He looked upon his piller, and there he found a flea ; "O Mr. Flea! you have bit me, And you shall shorely die!" So he scrunched his bones ag inst the stones And there he let him lie ! Twas then the Jolly Miller he laughed and told his wife, And she laughed fit to kill her, and dropped her carving-knife ! "O Mr. Flea!" "Ho-ho!" "Tee-hee!" They both laughed fit to kill, Until the sound did almost drownd The rumble of the mill ! 204 THE JOLLY MILLER "Laugh on, my Jolly Miller! and Missus Miller, tool- But there s a weeping-wilier will soon wave over youT 9 The voice was all so awful small So very small and slim ! He durst infer that it was her, Ner her infer twas him ! That night the Jolly Miller, says he, "It s, Wifey dear, That cat o yourn, I d kill her! her actions is so queer, She s rubbin g inst the grindstone-legs, And yowlin at the sky And I low the moon hain t greener Than the yaller of her eye!" And as the Jolly Miller went chuckle-un to bed, Was Somepin* jerked his piller from underneath his head! " O Wife," says he, on-easi-lee, " Fetch here that lantern there!" But Somepiri* moans in thunder-tones, u You tetch it ef you dare!" 2O 5 THE JOLLY MILLER Twas then the Jolly Miller he trimbled and he quailed And his wife choked until her breath come back, n she wailed! And " Of" cried she, "it is the Flea, All white and pale and wann He s got you in his clutches, and He s bigger than a man!" "Ho! ho! my Jolly Miller" (fer twas the Flea, fer shore!) , " I reckon you ll not rack my bones ner scrunch em any more!" Then the Flea- Ghost he grabbed him clos t, With many a ghastly smile, And from the door-step stooped and hopped About four hundred mile 1 206 WITH THE CURRENT RAREST mood of all the year ! Aimless, idle, and content Sky and wave and atmosphere Wholly indolent. Little daughter, loose the band From your tresses let them pour Shadow-like o er arm and hand Idling at the oar. Low and clear, and pure and deep, Ripples of the river sing Water-lilies, half asleep, Drowsed with listening: Tremulous reflex of skies Skies above and skies below, Paradise and Paradise Blending even so I 207 WITH THE CURRENT Blossoms with their leaves unrolled Laughingly, as they were lips Cleft with ruddy beaten gold Tongues of pollen-tips. Rush and reed, and thorn and vine, Clumped with grasses lithe and tall- With a web of summer-shine Woven round it all. Back and forth, and to and fro Flashing scale and wing as one, Dragon-flies that come and go, Shuttled by the sun. Fairy lilts and lullabies, Fine as fantasy conceives, Echoes wrought of cricket-cries Sifted through the leaves. O er the rose, with drowsy buzz, Hangs the bee, and stays his kiss. Even as my fancy does, Gypsy, over this. 208 WITH THE CURRENT Let us both be children share Youth s glad voyage night and day, Drift adown it, half aware, Anywhere we may. Drift and curve and deviate, Veer and eddy, float and flow, Waver, swerve and undulate, As the bubbles go. 209 A SLEEPING BEAUTY AN alien wind that blew and blew Over the fields where the ripe grain grew, Sending ripples of shine and shade That crept and crouched at her feet and played, The sea-like summer washed the moss Till the sun-drenched lilies hung like floss, Draping the throne of green and gold That lulled her there like a queen of old. II Was it the hum of a bumblebee, Or the long-hushed bugle eerily Winding a call to the daring Prince Lost in the wood long ages since ? 210 A SLEEPING BEAUTY A dim old wood, with a palace rare Hidden away in its depths somewhere ! Was it the Princess, tranced in sleep, Awaiting her lover s touch to leap Into the arms that bent above ? To thaw his heart with the breath of love And cloy his lips, through her waking tears, With the dead-ripe kiss of a hundred years! Ill An alien wind that blew and blew. I had blurred my eyes as the artists do, Coaxing life to a half-sketched face, Or dreaming bloom for a grassy place. The bee droned on in an undertone ; And a shadow-bird trailed all alone Across the wheat, while a liquid cry Dripped from above, as it went by. 211 A SLEEPING BEAUTY What to her was the far-off whir Of the quail s quick wing or the chipmunk s chirr ?- What to her was the shade that slid Over the hill where the reapers hid ? Or what the hunter, with one foot raised, As he turned to go yet, pausing, gazed ? 212 AT AUNTY S HOUSE ONE time, when we z at Aunty s house Way in the country ! where They s ist but woods an pigs, an cows An all s outdoors an air! An orchurd-swing ; an churry-trees An churries in em! Yes, an these- Here redhead birds steals all they please, An tetch em ef you dare! W y, wunst, one time, when we wuz there, We et out on the orch I Wite where the cellar door wuz shut The table wuz ; an I Let Aunty set by me an cut My vittuls up an pie. Tuz awful funny! I could see The redheads in the churry-tree ; An beehives, where you got to be So keerful, goin by; An "Comp ny" there an all! an we We et out on the porch ! 213 AT AUNTY S HOUSE An I ist et p surves an things At Ma don t low me to An tkickun-gizzurds (don t like wings Like Parunts does! do you?) An all the time the wind blowed there, An I could feel it in my hair, An ist smell clover ever where! An a old redhead flew Purt nigh wite over my high-chair, When we et on the porch I 214 THE WHITHERAWAYS [Set Sail^ October 15, 1890] THE Whitheraways ! That s what I ll have to call You sailing off, with never a word at all Of parting! mailing way across the sea, With never one good-bye to me to ME ! Sailing away from me, with no farewell ! Ah, Parker Hitt and sister Muriel And Rodney, too, and little Laurance all Sailing away just as the leaves, this Fall ! Well, then, /too shall sail on cheerily As now you all go sailing o er the sea: I ve other little friends with me on shore Though they but make me yearn for you the more ! And so, sometime, dear little friends afar, When this faint voice shall reach you, and you are All just a little homesick, you must be As brave as I am now, and think of me ! THE WHITHKRAWAYS Or, haply, if your eyes, as mine, droop low, And would be humored with a tear or so, Go to your Parents, Children ! let them do The crying twill be easier for them to! 2x6 THE RAGGEDY MAN O THE Raggedy Man ! He works fer Pa ; An he s the goodest man ever you saw! He comes to our house every day, An waters the horses, an feeds em hay ; An he opens the shed an we all 1st laugh When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf ; An nen ef our hired girl says he can He milks the cow fer Lizabuth Ann. Aint he a awful good Raggedy Man ? Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! Wy, The Raggedy Man he s ist so good He splits the kindlin an chops the wood ; An nen he spades in our garden, too, An does most things at boys can t do. He clumbed clean up in our big tree An shocked a apple down fer me An nother n, too, fer Lizabuth Ann An nother n , too, fer The Raggedy Man. Aint he a awful kind Raggedy Man ? Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! 217 THE RAGGEDY MAN An The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes An* tells em, ef I be good, sometimes: Knows bout Gitmts, an Griffuns, an Elves, An the Squidgicum-Squees at swallers ther- selves ! An , wite by the pump in our pasture-lot, He showed me the hole at the Wunks is got, At lives way deep in the ground, an can Turn into me, er Lizabuth Ann ! Aint he a funny old Raggedy Man ? Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! The Raggedy Man one time when he Was makin a little bow- n -orry fer me, Says "When you re big like your Pa is, Air you go* to keep a fine store like his An be a rich merchunt an wear fine clothes ? Er what air you go to be, goodness knows!" An nen he laughed at Lizabuth Ann, An I says " M go to be a Raggedy Man! I m ist go* to be a nice Raggedy Man!" Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! 218 A BOY S MOTHER MY Mother she s so good to me, Ef I was good as I could be, I couldn t be as good no, sir! Can t any boy be good as her! She loves me when I m glad er sad ; She loves me when I m good er bad; An , what s a funniest thing, she says She loves me when she punishes. I don t like her to punish me. That don t hurt, but it hurts to see Her cryin . Nen /cry; an nen We both cry an be good again. She loves me when she cuts an sews My little cloak an Sund y clothes ; An when my Pa comes home to tea, She loves him most as much as me. She laughs an tells him all I said, An grabs me up an pats my head ; An I hug her, an hug my Pa An love him purt nigh as much as Ma. 219 IN SWIMMING-TIME CLOUDS above, as white as wool, Drifting over skies as blue As the eyes of beautiful Children when they smile at you : Groves of maple, elm, and beech, With the sunshine sifted through Branches, mingling each with each, Dim with shade and bright with dew. Stripling trees, and poplars hoar, Hickory and sycamore, And the drowsy dogwood, bowed Where the ripples laugh aloud, And the crooning creek is stirred To a gaiety that now Mates the warble of the bird. Teetering on the hazel-bough, 220 IN SWIMMING-TIME Grasses long and fine and fair As your schoolboy-sweetheart s hair Backward stroked and twirled and twined By the fingers of the wind : Vines and mosses interlinked Down dark aisles a.nd deep ravines, Where the stream runs, willow-brinked, Round a bend where some one leans, Faint, and vague, and indistinct As the like-reflected thing In the current shimmering. Childish voices, further on, Where the truant stream has gone, Vex the echoes of the wood Till no word is understood Save that we are well aware Happiness is hiding there: There, in leafy coverts, nude Little bodies poise and leap, Spattering the solitude And the silence, everywhere Mimic monsters of the deep I 221 IN SWIMMING-TIME Wallowing in sandy shoals Plunging headlong out of sight, And, with spurtings of delight, Clutching hands, and slippery soles, Climbing up the treacherous steep, Over which the spring-board spurns Each again as he returns! Ah ! the glorious carnival ! Purple lips and chattering teeth- Eyes that burn But, in beneath, Every care beyond recall Every task forgotten quite And again in dreams at night, Dropping, drifting through it all ! 222 THE FISHING PARTY WUNST we went a-fishin Me An my Pa an Ma all three, When they was a pic-nic, way Out to Hanch s Woods, one day. An they was a crick out there, Where the fishes is, an where Little boys taint big an strong, Better have their folks along ! My Pa he ist fished an fished ! An my Ma she said she wished Me an her was home ; an Pa Said he wished so worse n Ma. Pa said ef you talk, er say Anything, er sneeze, er play, Hain t no fish, alive er dead, Ever go to bite ! he said. 223 THE FISHING PARTY Purt nigh dark in town when we Got back home; an Ma says she, Now she ll have a fish fer shore! An she buyed one at the store. Nen at supper, Pa he won t Eat no fish, an says he don t Like em. An he pounded me When I choked! . . . Ma, didn t he? 224 THE BOY LIVES ON OUR FARM THE Boy lives on our Farm, he s not Afeard o horses none! An he can make em lope, er trot, Er rack, er pace, er run. Sometimes he drives two horses, when He comes to town an* brings A wagon-full o taters nen, An roastin -ears an things. Two horses is "a team," he says, An when you drive er hitch, The right-un s a "near-horse," I guess, Er "off" I don t know which. The Boy lives on our Farm, he told Me, too, at he can see, By lookin at their teeth, how old A horse is, to a Tl 15 225 THE BOY LIVES ON OUR FARM I d be the gladdest boy alive Ef I knowed much as that, An* could stand up like him an drive, An ist push back my hat, Like he comes skallyhootin through Our alley, with one arm A-wavin Fare-ye-well ! to you The Boy lives on our Farm ! THE RUNAWAY BOY WUNST I sassed my Pa, an* he Won t stand that, an punished me, Nen when he was gone that day, I slipped out an runned away. I tooked all my copper-cents, An clumbed over our back fence In the jimpson-weeds at growed Ever where all down the road. Nen I got out there, an nen I runned some an runned again When I met a man at led A big cow at shocked her head. I went down a long, long lane Where was little pigs a-play n ; An a grea -big pig went "Booh!" An jumped up, an skeered me too. Nen I scampered past, an they Was somebody hollered " Hey!" An I ist looked ever where, An they was nobody there. 227 THE RUNAWAY BOY I want to, but I m fraid to try To go back. . . .An* by-an -by, Somepin hurts my throat inside An* I want my Ma an cried. Nen a grea -big girl come through Where s a gate, an telled me who Am I? an ef I tell where My home s at she ll show me there. But I couldn t ist but tell What s my name; an she says well, An she tooked me up an says She know where I live, she guess. Nen she telled me hug wite close Round her neck ! an off she goes Skippin up the street! An nen Purty soon I m home again. An my Ma, when she kissed me, Kissed the big girl too, an she Kissed me ef I p omise shore I won t run away no more! 228 OUR HIRED GIRL OUR hired girl, she s Lizabuth Ann; An she can cook best things to eat! She ist puts dough in our pie-pan, An pours in somepin at s good and sweet, An nen she salts it all on top With cinnamon ; an nen she ll stop An stoop an slide it, ist as slow, In th old cook-stove, so s twont slop An git all spilled ; nen bakes it, so It s custard pie, first thing you know! An nen she ll say: "Clear out o my way! They s time fer work, an time fer play! Take yer dough, an run, Child ; run ! Er I cain t git no cookin done!" When our hired girl tends like she s mad, An says folks got to walk the chalk When she s around, er wisht they had, I play out on our porch an talk 229 OUR HIRED GIRL To th Raggedy Man at mows our lawn; An he says " Whew!" an nen leans on His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes An sniffs all round an says, "I swawn! Ef my old nose don t tell me lies, It pears like I smell custard-pies!" An nen he ll say, u Clear out o my way! They s time fer work an time fer play! Take yer dough, an run, Child; run! Er she cain t git no cookin done! " Wunst our hired girl, when she Got the supper, an we all et, An it was night, an Ma an* me An Pa went wher the "Social" met, An nen when we come home, an see A light in the kitchen-door, an we Heerd a maccordeun, Pa says "Lan - O -Gracious! who can her beau be?" An I marched in, an* Lizabuth Ann Wuz parchin corn fer the Raggedy Man ! Better say "Clear out o the way! 230 OUR HIRED GIRL They s time fer work, an time fer play! Take the hint, an run, Child; run! Er we cain t git no courtiri* done I" 231 ENVOY MANY pleasures of Youth have been buoyantly sung And, borne on the winds of delight, may they beat With their palpitant wings at the hearts of the Young, And in bosoms of Age find as warm a retreat! Yet sweetest of all of the musical throng, Though least of the numbers that upward aspire, Is the one rising now into wavering song, As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire. Tis a Winter long dead that beleaguers my door And muffles his steps in the snows of the past : And I see, in the embers I m dreaming before, Lost faces of love as they looked on me last: The round, laughing eyes of the desk-mate of old Gleam out for a moment with truant desire Then fade and are lost in a City of Gold, As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire. 232 ENVOY And then comes the face, peering back in my own, Of a shy little girl, with her lids drooping low, As she faltering tells, in a far-away tone, The ghost of a story of long, long ago. Then her dewy blue eyes they are lifted again ; But I see their glad light slowly fail and expire, As I reach and cry to her in vain, all in vain! As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire. Then the face of a Mother looks back, through the mist Of the tears that are welling ; and, lucent with light, I see the dear smile of the lips I have kissed As she knelt by my cradle at morning and night ; And my arms are outheld, with a yearning too wild For any but God in His love to inspire, As she pleads at the foot of His throne for her child, As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire. O pathos of rapture ! O glorious pain ! My heart is a blossom of joy overrun ENVOY With a shower of tears, as a lily with rain That weeps in the shadow and laughs in the sun. The blight of the frost may descend on the tree, And the leaf and the flower may fall and expire. But ever and ever love blossoms for me, As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire. 334 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY Return to desk from which borrowed. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. *,L , 2QJul 54BK jut * 54Ui ,0V 5 <5S LD 21-100m-9, 48(B399sl6)476 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY