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fl kittle Book 
 
 OF 
 
 WESTERN VERSE 
 
BY EUGENE FIELD. 
 
 Etttle iSooft of 
 
 PROFITABLE TALES. 
 
 ILittie Booft of 
 
 WESTERN VERSE. 
 
 BOOK OF VERSE. 
 
 Each, i vol., i6mo, $1.25. 
 * 
 
 trumpet anti runt. 
 
 One vol., i6mo, $i oa 
 
tittle Boofi 
 
 OF 
 
 WESTERN VERSE 
 
 BY 
 
 EUGENE FIELD 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS 
 1894 
 
Copyright, 1889 
 BY EUGENE FIELD 
 
 a 
 
 JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE. 
 
TO 
 
 MARY FIELD FRENCH. 
 
 A dying mother gave to you 
 Her child a many years ago ; 
 
 How in your gracious love he grew, 
 You know, dear, patient heart, you k\ 
 
 .now. 
 
 The mother s child you fostered then 
 Salutes you now and bids you take 
 
 These little children of his fen 
 And love them for the author s sake. 
 
 To you I dedicate this look, 
 And, as you read it line by line, 
 
 Upon its faults as kindly look 
 As you have always looked on mine. 
 
 Tardy the offering is and weak ; 
 
 Yet were I happy if I knew 
 These children had the power to speak 
 
 My love and gratitude to you. 
 
 E. F. 
 
 M20501 
 
Go, little book ; and if an one would speak thee ill, let him 
 
 bethink him that thou art the child of 
 
 one who loves thee well. 
 
t\)t Contents? of tty$ tlittle 115oofe, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CASEY S TABLE D HOTE 
 
 OUR LADY OF THE MINE 6 9 
 
 THE CONVERSAZZHYONY I 5 I 
 
 PROP. VERB DE BLAW l61 
 
 MARTHY S YOUNKIT *73 
 
 OLD ENGLISH LULLABY 16 
 
 " LOLLYBY, LOLLY, LOLLYBY 27 
 
 ORKNEY LULLABY 34 
 
 LULLABY : BY THE SEA 79 
 
 CORNISH LULLABY 8 7 
 
 NORSE LULLABY 9 2 
 
 SICILIAN LULLABY 104 
 
 JAPANESE LULLABY * "3 
 
 LITTLE CROODLIN-DOO i 2 5 
 
 DUTCH LULLABY I2 
 
 CHILD AND MOTHER J 49 
 
 MEDIAEVAL EVENTIDE SONG 171 
 
 CHRISTMAS TREASURES 62 
 
 CHRISTMAS HYMN IJI 
 
 CHRYSTMASSE OF OLDE 120 
 
X CONTENTS OF THIS LITTLE BOOK. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 OUR Two OPINIONS 31 
 
 APPLE-PIE AND CHEESE 42 
 
 " GOOD-BY GOD BLESS YOU 1 " 115 
 
 HI-SPY 124 
 
 LONG AGO 195 
 
 LITTLE BOY BLUE 8 
 
 THE LYTTEL BOY 20 
 
 KRINKEN 46 
 
 To A USURPER 77 
 
 AILSIE, MY BAIRN 85 
 
 SOME TIME 201 
 
 MADGE : YE HOYDEN 10 
 
 DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD 24 
 
 To ROBIN GOODFELLOW 40 
 
 YVYTOT 189 
 
 THE DIVINE LULLABY 57 
 
 IN THE FIRELIGHT 59 
 
 THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM 106 
 
 AT THE DOOR 122 
 
 THE BIBLIOMANIAC S PRAYER 18 
 
 DE AMICITIIS 65 
 
 THE BIBLIOMANIAC S BRIDE . . . 108 
 
 THE TRUTH ABOUT HORACE 22 
 
 LYDIA AND HORACE RECONCILED 29 
 
 HORACE III. 13 ("FOUNTAIN OF BANDUSIA") . . 55 
 
CONTENTS OF THIS LITTLE BOOK. Xl 
 
 PAGE 
 
 HORACE TO MELPOMENE 83 
 
 CHAUCERIAN PARAPHRASE OF HORACE 91 
 
 HORACE TO PYRRHA 105 
 
 HORACE TO PHYLLIS 118 
 
 THE "HAPPY ISLES" OF HORACE 126 
 
 LITTLE MACK 36 
 
 MR. DANA, OF THE NEW YORK SUN 96 
 
 TO A SOUBRETTE 198 
 
 BERANGER S "BROKEN FIDDLE" 49 
 
 HEINE S "WIDOW, OR DAUGHTER?" 61 
 
 UHLAND S "THREE CAVALIERS" 89 
 
 BERANGER S "MY LAST SONG, PERHAPS" ... 94 
 
 HUGO S "FLOWER TO BUTTERFLY" 131 
 
 BERANGER S " MA VOCATION " 147 
 
 THE LITTLE PEACH 53 
 
 A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAMELOT 133 
 
 IN FLANDERS , , . . . 179 
 
 OUR BIGGEST FISH 182 
 
 MOTHER AND CHILD , . . 33 
 
 THE WANDERER 75 
 
 SOLDIER, MAIDEN, AND FLOWER 81 
 
 THIRTY-NINE 186 
 
ILt ttle 33oofc of OHesteru Ferse. 
 
 CASEY S TABLE D HOTE. 
 
 /^vH, them days on Red Hoss Mountain, when 
 
 the skies wuz fair nd blue, 
 When the money flowed like likker, nd the folks 
 
 wuz brave nd true ! 
 When the nights wuz crisp nd balmy, nd the camp 
 
 wuz all astir, 
 With the joints all throwed wide open nd no sheriff 
 
 to demur ! 
 Oh, them times on Red Hoss Mountain in the 
 
 Rockies fur away, 
 There s no sich place nor times like them as I kin 
 
 find to-day ! 
 What though the camp hez busted ? I seem to see 
 
 it still 
 A-lyin , like it loved it, on that big nd warty hill; 
 
CASEY S TABLE D HOTE. 
 
 And I feel a sort of yearnin nd a chokin in my 
 
 throat 
 When I think of Red Hoss Mountain nd of Casey s 
 
 tabble dote ! 
 
 Wul, yes ; it T s true; I struck it rich, but that don t 
 , e < cut a show *"- 
 When one is old ad feeble nd it s nigh his time 
 
 to go; 
 The money that he s got in bonds or carries to 
 
 invest 
 Don t figger with a codger who has lived a life 
 
 out West; 
 Us old chaps like to set around, away from folks 
 
 nd noise, 
 Nd think about the sights we seen and things we 
 
 done when boys ; 
 The which is why / love to set nd think of them 
 
 old days 
 When all us Western fellers ot the Colorado 
 
 craze, 
 And that is why I love to set around all day nd 
 
 gloat 
 On thoughts of Red Hoss Mountain nd of Casey s 
 
 tabble dote. 
 
CASEY S TABLE D HOTE. 
 
 This Casey wuz an Irishman, you d know it by 
 
 his name 
 And by the facial features appertainin to the 
 
 same. 
 He d lived in many places nd had done a thousand 
 
 things, 
 From the noble art of actin to the work of dealin 
 
 kings, 
 But, somehow, had n t caught on ; so, driftin with 
 
 the rest, 
 
 He drifted for a fortune to the undeveloped West, 
 And he come to Red Hoss Mountain when the 
 
 little camp wuz new, 
 When the money flowed like likker, nd the folks 
 
 wuz brave nd true ; 
 
 And, havin been a Stewart on a Mississippi boat, 
 He opened up a caffy nd he run a tabble dote. 
 
 The bar wuz long nd rangey, with a mirrer on the 
 
 shelf, 
 Nd a pistol, so that Casey, when required, could 
 
 help himself ; 
 Down underneath there wuz a row of bottled beer 
 
 nd wine, 
 Nd a kag of Burbun whiskey of the run of 59 ; 
 
CASEY S TABLE D HOTE. 
 
 Upon the walls wuz pictures of bosses nd of 
 
 girls, 
 Not much on dress, perhaps, but strong on records 
 
 nd on curls ! 
 The which had been identified with Casey in the 
 
 past, 
 The hosses nd the girls, I mean, and both wuz 
 
 mighty fast ! 
 But all these fine attractions wuz of precious little 
 
 note 
 By the side of what wuz offered at Casey s tabble 
 
 dote. 
 
 There wuz half-a-dozen tables altogether in the 
 
 place, 
 And the tax you had to pay upon your vittles wuz a 
 
 case; 
 The boardin -houses in the camp protested t wuz a 
 
 shame 
 To patronize a robber, which this Casey wuz the 
 
 same ! 
 They said a case was robbery to tax for ary 
 
 meal; 
 But Casey tended strictly to his biz, nd let em 
 
 squeal ; 
 
CASEY S TABLE D HOTE. 
 
 And presently the boardin -houses all began to bust, 
 While Casey kept on sawin wood nd layin in the 
 
 dust; 
 
 And oncet a trav lin editor from Denver City wrote 
 A piece back to his paper, puffin Casey s tabble 
 
 dote. 
 
 A tabble dote is different from orderin aller cart : 
 In one case you git all there is, in Pother, only part! 
 And Casey s tabble dote began in French, as all 
 
 begin, 
 And Casey s ended with the same, which is to say, 
 
 with " vin ; " 
 But in between wuz every kind of reptile, bird, nd 
 
 beast, 
 The same like you can git in high-toned restauraws 
 
 down east ; 
 Nd windin up wuz cake or pie, with coffee demy 
 
 tass, 
 Or, sometimes, floatin Ireland in a soothin kind of 
 
 sass 
 That left a sort of pleasant ticklin in a feller s 
 
 throat, 
 Nd made him hanker after more of Casey s tabble 
 
 dote. 
 
CASEY S TABLE D HOTE. 
 
 The very recollection of them puddin s nd them 
 
 pies 
 Brings a yearnin to my buzzum nd the water to 
 
 my eyes ; 
 Nd seems like cookin nowadays aint what it used 
 
 to be 
 In camp on Red Hoss Mountain in that year of 
 
 63; 
 But, maybe, it is better, nd, maybe, I m to 
 
 blame 
 I d like to be a-livin in the mountains jest the 
 
 same 
 I d like to live that life again when skies wuz fair 
 
 nd blue, 
 When things wuz run wide open nd men wuz brave 
 
 nd true ; 
 When brawny arms the flinty ribs of Red Hoss 
 
 Mountain smote 
 For wherewithal to pay the price of Casey s tabble 
 
 dote. 
 
 And you, O cherished brother, a-sleepin way out 
 
 west, 
 With Red Hoss Mountain huggin you close to its 
 
 lovin breast, 
 
CASEY S TABLE D HOTE. 
 
 Oh, do you dream in your last sleep of how we use 
 
 to do, 
 Of how we worked our little claims together, me nd 
 
 you? 
 Why, when I saw you last a smile wuz restin on 
 
 your face, 
 Like you wuz glad to sleep forever in that lonely 
 
 place ; 
 A.nd so you wuz, nd I d be, too, if I wuz sleepin 
 
 so. 
 But, bein how a brother s love aint for the world 
 
 to know, 
 Whenever I Ve this heartache nd this chokin in 
 
 my throat, 
 \ lay it all to thinkin of Casey s tabble dote. 
 
LITTLE BOY BLUE, 
 
 LITTLE BOY BLUE. 
 
 IP HE little toy dog is covered with dust, 
 
 But sturdy and stanch he stands ; 
 And the little toy soldier is red with rust, 
 
 And his musket moulds in his hands. 
 Time was when the^ittle toy dog was new / 
 
 And the soldier was passing fair, 
 And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue 
 
 Kissed them and put them there. 
 
 " Now, don t you go till I come," he said, 
 
 " And don t you make any noise ! " 
 So toddling off to his trundle-bed 
 
 He dreamt of the pretty toys. 
 And as he was dreaming, an angel song 
 
 Awakened our Little Boy Blue, * 
 Oh, the years are many, the years are long, 
 
 But the little toy friends are true. 
 
LITTLE BOY BLUE 
 
 - 
 
 Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand, 
 
 Each in the same old place, 
 Awaiting the touch of a little hand, 
 
 The smile of a little face. 
 
 And they wonder, as waiting these long years 
 through, 
 
 In the dust of that little chair, 
 What has become of our Little Boy Blue 
 
 Since he kissed them and put them there. 
 
10 MADGE: YE HOYDEN. 
 
 MADGE: YE HOYDEN. 
 
 A T Madge, ye hoyden, gossips scoff t, 
 
 Ffor that a romping wench was shee- 
 " Now marke this rede," they bade her oft, 
 
 " Forsooken sholde your folly bee ! " 
 But Madge, ye hoyden, laught & cried, 
 
 " Oho, oho," in girlish glee, 
 And noe thing mo replied. 
 
 n. 
 No griffe she had nor knew no care, 
 
 But gayly rompit all daies long, 
 And, like ye brooke that everywhere 
 
 Goes jinking with a gladsome song, 
 Shee danct and songe from morn till night. 
 
 Her gentil harte did know no wrong, 
 Nor did she none despight. 
 
MADGE: YE HOYDEN. II 
 
 III. 
 
 Sir Tomas from his noblesse halle 
 Did trend his path a somer s daye, 
 
 And to ye hoyden he did call 
 
 And these ff ull evill words did say : 
 
 " O wolde you weare a silken gown 
 
 And binde your haire with ribands gay ? 
 
 Then come with me to town ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 But Madge, ye hoyden, shoke her head, 
 
 " I le be no lemman unto thee 
 For all your golde and gownes," shee said, 
 
 " ffor Robin hath bespoken mee." 
 Then ben Sir Tomas sore despight, 
 
 And back unto his hall went hee 
 With face as ashen white. 
 
 v. 
 " O Robin, wilt thou wed this girl, 
 
 Whenas she is so vaine a sprite ? " 
 So spak ffull many an envious churle 
 
 Unto that curteyse countrie wight. 
 But Robin did not pay no heede; 
 
 And they ben wed a somer night 
 & danct upon ye meade. 
 
12 MADGE: YE HOYDEN. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then scarse ben past a yeare & daye 
 Whan Robin toke unto his bed, 
 
 And long, long time therein he lay, 
 Nor colde not work to earn his bread ; 
 
 in soche an houre, whan times ben sore, 
 Sr. Tomas came with haughtie tread 
 
 knockit at ye doore. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Saies : " Madge, ye hoyden, do you know 
 how that you once despighted me ? 
 
 But He forgiff an you will go 
 my swete harte lady ffor to bee ! " 
 
 But Madge, ye hoyden, heard noe more, 
 straightway upon her heele turnt shee, 
 
 & shote ye cottage doore. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Soe Madge, ye hoyden, did her parte 
 whiles that ye years did come and go ; 
 
 t was somer allwais in her harte, 
 
 tho winter strewed her head with snowe. 
 
 She toilt and span thro all those years 
 nor bid repine that it ben soe, 
 
 nor never shad noe teares. 
 
MADGE: YE HO YD EX. 13 
 
 IX. 
 
 Whiles Robin lay within his bed, 
 
 A divell came and whispered lowe, 
 
 " Giff you will doe my will," he said, 
 
 " None more of sickness you shall knowe! " 
 
 Ye which gave joy to Robin s soul 
 Saies Robin : " Divell, be it soe, 
 
 an that you make me whoale ! " 
 
 x. 
 
 That day, upp rising ffrom his bed, 
 Quoth Robin : " I am well again ! " 
 
 & backe he came as from ye dead, 
 & he ben mickle blithe as when 
 
 he wooed his doxy long ago ; 
 & Madge did make ado & then 
 
 Her teares ffor joy did flowe. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Then came that hell-born cloven thing 
 Saies : " Robin, I do claim your life, 
 
 and I hencefoorth shall be your king, 
 and you shall do my evill strife. 
 
 Look round about and you shall see 
 sr. Tomas young and ffoolish wiffe 
 
 a comely dame is shee ! " 
 
14 MADGE: YE HOYDEN. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Ye divell had him in his power, 
 and not colde Robin say thereto : 
 
 Soe Robin from that very houre 
 did what that divell bade him do ; 
 
 He wooed and dipt, and on a daye 
 sr. Tomas wife and Robin flewe 
 
 a many leagues away. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Sir Tomas ben wood wroth and swore, 
 And sometime strode thro leaf & brake 
 
 and knockit at ye cottage door 
 
 and thus to Madge, ye hoyden, spake : 
 
 Saies, " I wolde have you ffor mine own, 
 So come with mee & bee my make, 
 
 syn tother birds ben flown." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But Madge, ye hoyden, bade him noe ; 
 
 Saies : " Robin is my swete harte still, 
 And, tho he doth despight me soe, 
 
 I mean to do him good for ill. 
 So goe, Sir Tomas, goe your way ; 
 
 ffor whiles I bee on live I will 
 ffor Robin s coming pray ! " 
 
MADGE: YE HOYDEX. 
 
 Soe Madge, ye hoyden, kneelt & prayed 
 that Goddc sholde send her Robin backe. 
 
 And tho ye folke vast scoffing made, 
 and tho ye worlde ben colde and blacke, 
 
 And tho , as moneths dragged away, 
 ye hoyden s harte ben like to crack 
 
 With griff, she still did praye. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Sicke of that divell s damned charmes, 
 
 Aback did Robin come at last, 
 And Madge, ye hoyden, sprad her arms 
 
 and gave a cry and held him fast ; 
 And as she clong to him and cried, 
 
 her patient harte with joy did brast, 
 & Madge, ye hoyden, died. 
 
1 6 OLD ENGLISH LULLABY. 
 
 OLD ENGLISH LULLABY. 
 
 TUT USH, bonnie, dinna greit ; 
 
 Moder will rocke her sweete, 
 
 Balow, my boy ! 
 When that his toile ben done, 
 Daddie will come anone, 
 Hush thee, my lyttel one ; 
 
 Balow, my boy ! 
 
 Gin thou dost sleepe, perchaunce 
 Fayries will come to daunce, 
 
 Balow, my boy ! 
 Oft hath thy moder scene 
 Moonlight and mirkland queene 
 Daunce on thy slumbering een, 
 
 Balow, my boy ! 
 
 Then droned a bomblebee 
 Saftly this songe to thee : 
 " Balow, my boy ! " 
 
OLD ENGLISH LULLABY. 
 
 And a wee heather bell, 
 Pluckt from a fayry dell, 
 Chimed thee this rune hersell 
 " Balow, my boy ! " 
 
 Soe, bonnie, dinna greit ; 
 Moder doth rock her sweete, 
 
 Balow, my boy ! 
 Give mee thy lyttel hand, 
 Moder will hold it and 
 Lead thee to balow land, 
 
 Balow, my boy ! 
 
1 8 THE BIBLIOMANIAC S PRAYER. 
 
 THE BIBLIOMANIAC S PRAYER. 
 
 me, I pray, in wisdom s way 
 That I may truths eternal seek ; 
 I need protecting care to-day, 
 
 My purse is light, my flesh is weak. 
 So banish from my erring heart 
 
 All baleful appetites and hints 
 Of Satan s fascinating art, 
 
 Of first editions, and of prints. 
 Direct me in some godly walk 
 
 Which leads away from bookish strife, 
 That I with pious deed and talk 
 
 May extra-illustrate my life. 
 
 But if, O Lord, it pleaseth Thee 
 To keep me in temptation s way, 
 
 I humbly ask that I may be 
 Most notably beset to-day ; 
 
 Let my temptation be a book, 
 Which I shall purchase, hold, and keep, 
 
THE BIBLIOMANIAC S PRAYER. 19 
 
 Whereon when other men shall look, 
 They 11 wail to know I got it cheap. 
 
 Oh, let it such a volume be 
 
 As in rare copperplates abounds, 
 
 Large paper, clean, and fair to see, 
 Uncut, unique, unknown to Lowndes. 
 
2O THE LYTTEL BOY. 
 
 THE LYTTEL BOY. 
 
 O OMETIME there ben a lyttel boy 
 
 That wolde not renne and play, 
 And helpless like that little tyke 
 
 Ben allwais in the way. 
 " Goe, make you merrie with the rest," 
 
 His weary moder cried ; 
 But with a frown he catch t her gown 
 And hong untill her side. 
 
 That boy did love his moder well, 
 
 Which spake him faire, I ween ; 
 He loved to stand and hold her hand 
 
 And ken her with his een ; 
 His cosset bleated in the croft, 
 
 His toys unheeded lay, 
 He wolde not goe, but, tarrying soe, 
 
 Ben allwais in the way. 
 
THE LYTTEL BOY. 21 
 
 Godde loveth children and doth gird 
 
 His throne with soche as these, 
 And He doth smile in plaisaunce while 
 
 They cluster at His knees ; 
 And sometime, when He looked on earth 
 
 And watched the bairns at play, 
 He kenned with joy a lyttel boy 
 
 Ben allwais in the way. 
 
 And then a moder felt her heart 
 
 How that it ben to-torne, 
 She kissed eche day till she ben gray 
 
 The shoon he use to worn ; 
 No bairn let hold untill her gown 
 
 Nor played upon the floore, 
 Godde s was the joy ; a lyttel boy 
 
 Ben in the way no more ! 
 
22 THE TRUTH ABOUT HORACE. 
 
 THE TRUTH ABOUT HORACE. 
 
 TT is very aggravating 
 
 To hear the solemn prating 
 Of the fossils who are stating 
 
 That old Horace was a prude ; 
 When we know that with the ladies 
 He was always raising Hades, 
 And with many an escapade his 
 Best productions are imbued. 
 
 There s really not much harm in a 
 Large number of his carmina, 
 But these people find alarm in a 
 
 Few records of his acts ; 
 So they d squelch the muse caloric, 
 And to students sophomoric 
 They d present as metaphoric 
 
 What old Horace meant for facts. 
 
THE TRUTH ABOUT HORACE. 23 
 
 We have always thought em lazy ; 
 Now we adjudge em crazy ! 
 Why, Horace was a daisy 
 
 That was very much alive ! 
 And the wisest of us know him 
 As his Lydia verses show him, 
 Go, read that virile poem, 
 
 It is No. 25. 
 
 He was a very owl, sir, 
 
 And starting out to prowl, sir, 
 
 You bet he made Rome howl, sir, 
 
 Until he filled his date ; 
 With a massic-laden ditty 
 And a classic maiden pretty 
 He painted up the city, 
 
 And Maecenas paid the freight ! 
 
24 THE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD. 
 
 THE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD. 
 
 r* IVE me my bow," said Robin Hood, 
 
 " An arrow give to me ; 
 And where t is shot mark thou that spot, 
 For there my grave shall be." 
 
 Then Little John did make no sign, 
 
 And not a word he spake ; 
 But he smiled, altho with mickle woe 
 
 His heart was like to break. 
 
 He raised his master in his arms, 
 
 And set him on his knee ; 
 And Robin s eyes beheld the skies, 
 
 The shaws, the greenwood tree. 
 
 The brook was babbling as of old, 
 The birds sang full and clear, 
 
 And the wild-flowers gay like a carpet lay 
 In the path of the timid deer. 
 
THE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD. 25 
 
 " O Little John," said Robin Hood, 
 
 " Meseemeth now to be 
 Standing with you so stanch and true 
 
 Under the greenwood tree. 
 
 " And all around I hear the sound 
 
 Of Sherwood long ago, 
 And my merry men come back again, 
 
 You know, sweet friend, you know ! 
 
 " Now mark this arrow ; where it falls, 
 
 When I am dead dig deep, 
 And bury me there in the greenwood where 
 
 I would forever sleep." 
 
 He twanged his bow. Upon its course 
 
 The clothyard arrow sped, 
 And when it fell in yonder dell, 
 
 Brave Robin Hood was dead. 
 
 The sheriff sleeps in a marble vault, 
 
 The king in a shroud of gold ; 
 And upon the air with a chanted pray r 
 
 Mingles the mock of mould. 
 
26 THE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD 
 
 But the deer draw to the shady pool, 
 
 The birds sing blithe and free, 
 And the wild-flow rs bloom o er a hidden tomb 
 
 Under the greenwood tree. 
 
LOLLYBY, LOLLY, LOLLY BY," 27 
 
 "LOLLYBY, LOLLY, LOLLYBY." 
 
 T AST night, whiles that the curfew bell ben 
 
 ringing, 
 I heard a moder to her dearie singing 
 
 " Lollyby, lolly, lollyby." 
 
 And presently that chylde did cease hys weeping, 
 And on his moder s breast did fall a-sleeping, 
 
 To "lolly, lolly, lollyby." 
 
 Faire ben the chylde unto his moder clinging, 
 But fairer yet the moder s gentle singing, 
 
 " Lollyby, lolly, lollyby." 
 And angels came and kisst the dearie smiling 
 In dreems while him hys moder ben beguiling 
 
 With "lolly, lolly, lollyby ! " 
 
 Then to my harte saies I, " Oh, that thy beating 
 Colde be assuaged by some swete voice repeating 
 Lollyby, lolly, lollyby ; 
 
28 "LOLLYBY, LOLLY, LOLLYBY." 
 
 That like this lyttel chylde I, too, ben sleeping 
 With plaisaunt phantasies about me creeping, 
 To lolly, lolly, lollyby ! " 
 
 Sometime mayhap when curfew bells are ring 
 ing 
 A weary harte shall heare straunge voices singing, 
 
 " Lollyby, lolly, lollyby ; " 
 Sometime, mayhap, with Chrysts love round me 
 
 streaming, 
 
 I shall be lulled into eternal dreeming 
 With " lolly, lolly, lollyby." 
 
HORACE AND LYDIA RECONCILED. 29 
 
 HORACE AND LYDIA RECONCILED. 
 
 HORACE. 
 
 \\7HEN you were mine in auld lang syne, 
 
 And when none else your charms might ogle, 
 I 11 not deny, 
 Fair nymph, that I 
 Was happier than a Persian mogul. 
 
 LYDIA. 
 
 Before she came that rival flame ! 
 (Was ever female creature sillier ?) 
 In those good times, 
 Bepraised in rhymes, 
 I was more famed than Mother Ilia! 
 
 HORACE. 
 
 Chloe of Thrace ! With what a grace 
 Does she at song or harp employ her ! 
 
 I d gladly die 
 
 If only I 
 Might live forever to enjoy her ! 
 
30 HORACE AND LYDIA RECONCILED. 
 
 LYDIA. 
 
 My SybarSs so noble is 
 That, by the gods ! I love him madly 
 That I might save 
 Him from the grave 
 I d give my life, and give it gladly ! 
 
 HORACE. 
 
 What if ma belle from favor fell, 
 And I made up my mind to shake her, 
 Would Lydia, then, 
 Come back again 
 And to her quondam flame betake her ? 
 
 LYDIA. 
 My other beau should surely go, 
 
 And you alone should find me gracious ; 
 For no one slings 
 Such odes and things 
 As does the lauriger Horatius ! 
 
OUR TWO OPINIONS. 31 
 
 OUR TWO OPINIONS. 
 
 T 7 S two wuz boys when we fell out, 
 
 Nigh to the age uv my youngest now ; 
 Don t rec lect what twuz about, 
 
 Some small deeff rence, I 11 allow. 
 Lived next neighbors twenty years, 
 
 A-hatin each other, me nd Jim, 
 He havin his opinyin uv me, 
 
 Nd / havin my opinyin uv him. 
 
 Grew up together nd would n t speak, 
 
 Courted sisters, nd marr d em, too ; 
 Tended same meetin -house oncet a week, 
 
 A-hatin each other through nd through ! 
 But when Abe Linkern asked the West 
 
 F r soldiers, we answered, me nd Jim, 
 He havin his opinyin uv me, 
 
 N.d / havin my opinyin uv him. 
 
32 OUR TWO OPINIONS. 
 
 But down in Tennessee one night 
 
 Ther wuz sound uv firin fur away, 
 Nd the sergeant allowed ther d be a fight 
 
 With the Johnnie Rebs some time nex day 
 Nd as I wuz thinkin uv Lizzie nd home 
 
 Jim stood afore me, long nd slim, 
 He havin his opinyin uv me, 
 
 Nd / havin my opinyin uv him. 
 
 Seemed like we knew there wuz goin to be 
 
 Serious trouble f r me nd him ; 
 Us two shuck hands, did Jim nd me, 
 
 But never a word from me or Jim ! 
 He went his way nd / went mine, 
 
 Nd into the battle s roar went we, 
 / havin my opinyin uv Jim, 
 
 Nd he havin his opinyin uv me. 
 
 Jim never come back from the war again, 
 
 But I haint forgot that last, last night 
 When, waitin f r orders, us two men 
 
 Made up nd shuck hands, afore the fight. 
 Nd, after it all, it s soothin to know 
 
 That here 7 be nd yonder s Jim, 
 He havin his opinyin uv me, 
 
 Nd / havin my opinyin uv him. 
 
MOTHER AND CHILD. 33 
 
 MOTHER AND CHILD. 
 
 /~\NE night a tiny dewdrop fell 
 Into the bosom of a rose, 
 " Dear little one, I love thee well, 
 Be ever here thy sweet repose ! " 
 
 Seeing the rose with love bedight, 
 
 The envious sky frowned dark, and then 
 
 Sent forth a messenger of light 
 And caught the dewdrop up again. 
 
 " Oh, give me back my heavenly child, 
 My love ! " the rose in anguish cried ; 
 
 Alas ! the sky triumphant smiled, 
 
 And so the flower, heart-broken, died. 
 
34 ORKNEY LULLABY. 
 
 ORKNEY LULLABY. 
 
 A MOONBEAM floateth from the skies, 
 
 Whispering, " Heigho, my dearie ! 
 I would spin a web before your eyes, 
 A beautiful web of silver light, 
 Wherein is many a wondrous sight 
 Of a radiant garden leagues away, 
 Where the softly tinkling lilies sway, 
 And the snow-white lambkins are at play, 
 Heigho, my dearie ! " 
 
 A brownie stealeth from the vine 
 
 Singing, " Heigho, my dearie ! 
 And will you hear this song of mine, 
 A song of the land of murk and mist 
 Where bideth the bud the dew hath kisst ? 
 Then let the moonbeam s web of light 
 Be spun before thee silvery white, 
 And I shall sing the livelong night, 
 Heigho, my dearie ! " 
 
ORKNEY LULLABY. 35 
 
 The night wind speedeth from the sea, 
 
 Murmuring, " Heigho, my dearie ! 
 
 I bring a mariner s prayer for thee ; 
 
 So let the moonbeam veil thine eyes, 
 
 And the brownie sing thee lullabies ; 
 
 But I shall rock thee to and fro, 
 
 Kissing the brow he loveth so, 
 
 And the prayer shall guard thy bed, I trow, 
 Heigho, my dearie ! " 
 
36 LITTLE MACK. 
 
 LITTLE MACK. 
 
 "T HIS talk about the journalists that run the East 
 is bosh, 
 
 We Ve got a Western editor that s little, but, O 
 gosh ! 
 
 He lives here in Mizzoora where the people are so 
 set 
 
 In ante-bellum notions that they vote for Jackson 
 yet; 
 
 But the paper he is running makes the rusty fossils 
 swear, 
 
 The smartest, likeliest paper that is printed any 
 where ! 
 
 And, best of all, the paragraphs are pointed as a 
 tack, 
 
 And that s because they emanate 
 From little Mack. 
 
 In architecture he is what you d call a chunky man, 
 As if he d been constructed on the summer-cottage 
 plan ; 
 
LITTLE MACK. 37 
 
 He has a nose like Bonaparte ; and round his mo 
 bile mouth 
 Lies all the sensuous languor of the children of the 
 
 South ; 
 
 His dealings with reporters who affect a weekly bust 
 Have given to his violet eyes a shadow of distrust ; 
 In glorious abandon his brown hair wanders back 
 From the grand Websterian forehead 
 Of little Mack. 
 
 No matter what the item is, if there s an item in it, 
 You bet your life he s on to it and nips it in a 
 
 minute ! 
 From multifarious nations, countries, monarchies, 
 
 and lands, 
 From Afric s sunny fountains and India s coral 
 
 strands, 
 From Greenland s icy mountains and Siloam s 
 
 shady rills, 
 He gathers in his telegrams, and Houser pays the 
 
 bills; 
 What though there be a dearth of news, he has a 
 
 happy knack 
 
 Of scraping up a lot of scoops. 
 Does little Mack. 
 
38 LITTLE MACK. 
 
 And learning ? Well he knows the folks of every 
 
 tribe and age 
 That ever played a part upon this fleeting human 
 
 stage ; 
 
 His intellectual system s so extensive and so greedy 
 That, when it comes to records, he s a walkin cy- 
 
 clopedy ; 
 For having studied (and digested) all the books 
 
 a-goin , 
 It stands to reason he must know about all s worth 
 
 a-knowin ! 
 
 So when a politician with a record s on the track, 
 We re apt to hear some history 
 From little Mack. 
 
 And when a fellow-journalist is broke and needs a 
 
 twenty, 
 Who s allus ready to whack up a portion of his 
 
 plenty ? 
 Who s allus got a wallet that s as full of sordid 
 
 gain 
 As his heart is full of kindness and his head is full 
 
 of brain ? 
 Whose bowels of compassion will in-va-ri-a-bly 
 
 move 
 
LITTLE MACK. 39 
 
 Their owner to those courtesies which plainly, 
 
 surely prove 
 
 That he s the kind of person that never does go 
 back 
 
 On a fellow that s in trouble ? 
 Why, little Mack ! 
 
 I Ve heard em tell of Dana, and of Bonner, and of 
 
 Reid, 
 Of Johnnie Cockerill, who, I 11 own, is very smart 
 
 indeed ; 
 Yet I don t care what their renown or influence 
 
 may be, 
 
 One metropolitan exchange is quite enough for me ! 
 So keep your Danas, Bonners, Reids, your Cock- 
 
 erills, and the rest, 
 The woods is full of better men all through this 
 
 woolly West; 
 For all that sleek, pretentious, Eastern editorial 
 
 pack 
 
 We would n t swap the shadow of 
 Our little Mack ! 
 
4 TO ROBIN GOODFELLOW. 
 
 TO ROBIN GOODFELLOW. 
 
 T SEE you, Maister Bawsy-brown, 
 Through yonder lattice creepin ; 
 You come for cream and to gar me dream, 
 
 But you dinna find me sleepin . 
 The moonbeam, that upon the floor 
 
 Wi crickets ben a-jinkin , 
 Now steals away fra her bonnie play 
 
 Wi a rosier blie, I m thinkin . 
 
 I saw you, Maister Bawsy-brown, 
 
 When the blue bells went a-ringin 
 For the merrie fays o the banks an braes, 
 
 And I kenned your bonnie singin ; 
 The gowans gave you honey sweets, 
 
 And the posies on the heather 
 Dript draughts o dew for the faery crew 
 
 That danct and sang together. 
 
TO ROBIN GOODFELLOW. 4 1 
 
 But posie-bloom an simmer-dew 
 
 And ither sweets o faery 
 Cud na gae down wi Bawsy-brown, 
 
 Sae nigh to Maggie s dairy! 
 My pantry shelves, sae clean and white. 
 
 Are set wi cream and cheeses, 
 Gae, gin you will, an take your fill 
 
 Of whatsoever pleases. 
 
 Then wave your wand aboon my een 
 
 Until they close awearie, 
 And the night be past sae sweet and fast 
 
 Wi dreamings o my dearie. 
 But pinch the wench in yonder room, 
 
 For she s na gude nor bonnie, 
 Her shelves be dust and her pans be rust, 
 
 And she winkit at my Johnnie ! 
 
4 2 APPLE-PIE AND CHEESE. 
 
 APPLE-PIE AND CHEESE. 
 
 "P^ULL many a sinful notion 
 
 Conceived of foreign powers 
 Has come across the ocean 
 
 To harm this land of ours ; 
 And heresies called fashions 
 
 Have modesty effaced, 
 And baleful, morbid passions 
 Corrupt our native taste. 
 
 tempera ! O mores ! 
 What profanations these 
 
 That seek to dim the glories 
 Of apple-pie and cheese ! 
 
 1 m glad my education 
 
 Enables me to stand 
 Against the vile temptation 
 
 Held out on every hand 
 Eschewing all the tittles 
 
 With vanity replete, 
 
APPLE-PIE AND CHEESE. 43 
 
 I m loyal to the victuals 
 
 Our grandsires used to eat ! 
 I m glad I Ve got three willing boys 
 
 To hang around and tease 
 Their mother for the filling joys 
 
 Of apple-pie and cheese ! 
 
 Your flavored creams and ices 
 
 And your dainty angel-food 
 Are mighty fine devices 
 
 To regale the dainty dude ; 
 Your terrapin and oysters, 
 
 With wine to wash em down, 
 Are just the thing for roisters 
 
 When painting of the town ; 
 No flippant, sugared notion 
 
 Shall my appetite appease, 
 Or bate my soul s devotion 
 
 To apple-pie and cheese ! 
 
 The pie my Julia makes me 
 (God bless her Yankee ways !) 
 
 On memory s pinions takes me 
 To dear Green Mountain days ; 
 
44 APPLE-PIE AND CHEESE. 
 
 And seems like I saw Mother 
 
 Lean on the window-sill, 
 A-handin me and brother 
 
 What she knows 11 keep us still ; 
 And these feelings are so grateful, 
 
 Says I, " Julia, if you please, 
 I 11 take another plateful 
 
 Of that apple-pie and cheese ! " 
 
 And cheese ! No alien it, sir, 
 
 That s brought across the sea, 
 No Dutch antique, nor Switzer, 
 
 Nor glutinous de Brie; 
 There s nothing I abhor so 
 
 As mawmets of this ilk 
 Give me the harmless morceau 
 
 That s made of true-blue milk ! 
 No matter what conditions 
 
 Dyspeptic come to feaze, 
 The best of all physicians 
 
 Is apple-pie and cheese ! 
 
 Though ribalds may decry em, 
 For these twin boons we stand, 
 
 Partaking thrice per diem 
 Of their fulness out of hand ; 
 
APPLE-PIE AND CHEESE. 45 
 
 No enervating fashion 
 
 Shall cheat us of our right 
 To gratify our passion 
 
 With a mouthful at a bite ! 
 We 11 cut it square or bias, 
 
 Or any way we please, 
 And faith shall justify us 
 
 When we carve our pie and cheese ! 
 
 De gustibus, t is stated, 
 
 Non disputandum est. 
 Which meaneth, when translated, 
 
 That all is for the best. 
 So let the foolish choose em 
 
 The vapid sweets of sin, 
 I will not disabuse em 
 
 Of the heresy they re in ; 
 But I, when I undress me 
 
 Each night, upon my knees 
 Will ask the Lord to bless me 
 
 With apple-pie and cheese ! 
 
4 6 KRINKEN. 
 
 KRINKEN. 
 
 IV" RINKEN was a little child, 
 
 It was summer when he smiled. 
 Oft the hoary sea and grim 
 Stretched its white arms out to him, 
 Calling, " Sun-child, come to me ; 
 Let me warm my heart with thee ! " 
 But the child heard not the sea, 
 Calling, yearning evermore 
 For the summer on the shore. 
 
 Krinken on the beach one day 
 Saw a maiden Nis at play ; 
 On the pebbly beach she played 
 In the summer Krinken made. 
 Fair, and very fair, was she, 
 Just a little child was he. 
 
K RINK EN. 4 7 
 
 "Krinken," said the maiden Nis, 
 " Let me have a little kiss, 
 Just a kiss, and go with me 
 To the summer-lands that be 
 Down within the silver sea." 
 
 Krinken was a little child 
 By the maiden Nis beguiled, 
 Hand in hand with her went he, 
 And twas summer in the sea. 
 And the hoary sea and grim 
 To its bosom folded him 
 Clasped and kissed the little form, 
 And the ocean s heart was warm. 
 
 Now the sea calls out no more ; 
 It is winter on the shore, 
 Winter where that little child 
 Made sweet summer when he smiled; 
 Though t is summer on the sea 
 Where with maiden Nis went he, 
 Summer, summer evermore, 
 It is winter on the shore, 
 Winter, winter evermore. 
 
48 K RINK EN. 
 
 Of the summer on the deep 
 Come sweet visions in my sleep : 
 His fair face lifts from the sea, 
 His dear voice calls out to me, 
 These my dreams of summer be. 
 
 Krinken was a little child, 
 By the maiden Nis beguiled ; 
 Oft the hoary sea and grim 
 Reached its longing arms to him, 
 Crying, " Sun-child, come to me; 
 Let me warm my heart with thee ! 
 But the sea calls out no more; 
 It is winter on the shore, 
 Winter, cold and dark and wild ; 
 Krinken was a little child, 
 It was summer when he smiled; 
 Down he went into the sea, 
 And the winter bides with me. 
 Just a little child was he. 
 
BERANGER S "BROKEN FIDDLE." 49 
 
 BERANGER S "BROKEN FIDDLE." 
 
 i. 
 
 HTHERE, there, poor dog, my faithful friend, 
 
 Pay you no heed unto my sorrow : 
 But feast to-day while yet you may, 
 
 Who knows but we shall starve to-morrow ! 
 
 ii. 
 " Give us a tune," the foemen cried, 
 
 In one of their profane caprices; 
 I bade them " No * they frowned, and, lo ! 
 
 They dashed this innocent in pieces! 
 
 in. 
 This fiddle was the village pride 
 
 The mirth of every fete enhancing ; 
 Its wizard art set every heart 
 As well as every foot to dancing. 
 4 
 
5O BERANGER S "BROKEN FIDDLE." 
 
 IV. 
 
 How well the bridegroom knew its voice, 
 As from its strings its song went gushing ! 
 
 Nor long delayed the promised maid 
 Equipped for bridal, coy and blushing. 
 
 v. 
 
 Why, it discoursed so merrily, 
 It quickly banished all dejection , 
 
 And yet, when pressed, our priest confessed 
 I played with pious circumspection. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And though, in patriotic song, 
 
 It was our guide, compatriot, teacher, 
 
 I never thought the foe had wrought 
 His fury on the helpless creature ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 But there, poor dog, my faithful friend, 
 Pay you no heed unto my sorrow ; 
 
 I prithee take this paltry cake, 
 
 Who knows but we shall starve to-morrow ! 
 
BE RANGER S "BROKEN FIDDLE." 51 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Ah, who shall lead the Sunday choir 
 
 As this old fiddle used to do it ? 
 Can vintage come, with this voice dumb 
 
 That used to bid a welcome to it? 
 
 IX. 
 
 It soothed the weary hours of toil, 
 It brought forgetfulness to debtors ; 
 
 Time and again from wretched men 
 It struck oppression s galling fetters. 
 
 x. 
 
 No man could hear its voice, and hate ; 
 
 It stayed the teardrop at its portal ; 
 With that dear thing I was a king 
 
 As never yet was monarch mortal ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Now has the foe the vandal foe 
 
 Struck from my hands their pride and glory ; 
 
 There let it lie ! In vengeance, I 
 Shall wield another weapon, gory ! 
 
5 2 BERANGEFS "BROKEN FIDDLE." 
 
 XII. 
 
 And if, O countrymen, I fall, 
 
 Beside our grave let this be spoken : 
 
 " No foe of France shall ever dance 
 Above the heart and fiddle, broken ! " 
 
 XIII. 
 
 So come, poor dog, my faithful friend, 
 I prithee do not heed my sorrow, 
 
 But feast to-day while yet you may, 
 For we are like to starve to-morrow. 
 
THE LITTLE PEACH. 53 
 
 THE LITTLE PEACH. 
 
 A LITTLE peach in the orchard grew, 
 
 A little peach of emerald hue ; 
 Wanned by the sun and wet by the dew, 
 It grew. 
 
 One day, passing that orchard through, 
 That little peach dawned on the view 
 Of Johnny Jones and his sister Sue 
 Them two. 
 
 Up at that peach a club they threw 
 Down from the stem on which it grew 
 Fell that peach of emerald hue. 
 Mon Dieu ! 
 
 John took a bite and Sue a chew, 
 And then the trouble began to brew, 
 Trouble the doctor could n t subdue. 
 Too true ! 
 
54 THE LITTLE PEACH. 
 
 Under the turf where the daisies grew 
 They planted John and his sister Sue, 
 And their little souls to the angels flew, 
 Boo hoo! 
 
 What of that peach of the emerald hue, 
 Warmed by the sun, and wet by the dew ? 
 Ah, well, its mission on earth is through. 
 
 Adieu ! 
 1880. 
 
HORACE III. 23. 55 
 
 HORACE III. 13. 
 
 FOUNTAIN of Bandusia, 
 Whence crystal waters flow, 
 With garlands gay and wine I 11 pay 
 
 The sacrifice I owe ; 
 A sportive kid with budding horns 
 
 I have, whose crimson blood 
 Anon shall dye and sanctify 
 Thy cool and babbling flood. 
 
 O fountain of Bandusia, 
 
 The dogstar s hateful spell 
 No evil brings unto the springs 
 
 That from thy bosom well ; 
 Here oxen, wearied by the plough, 
 
 The roving cattle here, 
 Hasten in quest of certain rest 
 
 And quaff thy gracious cheer. 
 
HORACE III. 13. 
 
 O fountain of Bandusia, 
 
 Ennobled shalt thou be, 
 For I shall sing the joys that spring 
 
 Beneath yon ilex-tree ; 
 Yes, fountain of Bandusia, 
 
 Posterity shall know 
 The cooling brooks that from thy nooks 
 
 Singing and dancing go ! 
 
THE DIVINE LULLABY, 57 
 
 THE DIVINE LULLABY. 
 
 T HEAR Thy voice, dear Lord; 
 I hear it by the stormy sea 
 
 When winter nights are black and wild, 
 And when, affright, I call to Thee ; 
 It calms my fears and whispers me, 
 
 " Sleep well, my child." 
 
 I hear Thy voice, dear Lord, 
 In singing winds, in falling snow, 
 
 The curfew chimes, the midnight bell. 
 " Sleep well, my child," it murmurs low ; 
 " The guardian angels come and go, 
 
 child, sleep well ! " 
 
 1 hear Thy voice, dear Lord , 
 
 Ay, though the singing winds be stilled, 
 
 Though hushed the tumult of the deep, 
 My fainting heart with anguish chilled 
 By Thy assuring tone is thrilled, 
 " Fear not, and sleep ! " 
 
58 THE DITINE LULLABY. 
 
 Speak on speak on, dear Lord ! 
 And when the last dread night is near, 
 
 With doubts and fears and terrors wild, 
 Oh, let my soul expiring hear 
 Only these words of heavenly cheer, 
 
 " Sleep well, my child ! " 
 
IN THE FIRELIGHT. 59 
 
 IN THE FIRELIGHT. 
 
 HPHE fire upon the hearth is low, 
 And there is stillness everywhere, 
 While like winged spirits, here and there, 
 
 The firelight shadows fluttering go. 
 
 And as the shadows round me creep, 
 A childish treble breaks the gloom, 
 And softly from a further room 
 
 Comes, " Now I lay me down to sleep." 
 
 And somehow, with that little prayer 
 And that sweet treble in my ears, 
 My thoughts go back to distant years 
 
 And linger with a loved one there ; 
 
 And as I hear my child s amen, 
 
 My mother s faith comes back to me, 
 Crouched at her side I seem to be, 
 
 And Mother holds my hands again. 
 
60 IN THE FIRELIGHT. 
 
 Oh, for an hour in that dear place ! 
 
 Oh, for the peace of that dear time ! 
 
 Oh, for that childish trust sublime ! 
 Oh, for a glimpse of Mother s face ! 
 Yet, as the shadows round me creep, 
 
 I do not seem to be alone, 
 
 Sweet magic of that treble tone, 
 And * 4 Now I lay me down to sleep." 
 
 1885. 
 
HEINE S "WIDOW OR DAUGHTER?" 6 1 
 
 HEINE S "WIDOW OR DAUGHTER?" 
 
 O HALL I woo the one or other ? 
 ^ Both attract me more s the pity ! 
 Pretty is the widowed mother, 
 And the daughter, too, is pretty. 
 
 When I see that maiden shrinking, 
 By the gods I swear I II get er ! 
 
 But anon I fall to thinking 
 That the mother 11 suit me better ! 
 
 So, like any idiot ass 
 
 Hungry for the fragrant fodder, 
 Placed between two bales of grass, 
 
 Lo, I doubt, delay, and dodder ! 
 
62 CHRISTMAS TREASURES. 
 
 CHRISTMAS TREASURES. 
 
 T COUNT my treasures o er with care, 
 The little toy my darling knew, 
 A little sock of faded hue, 
 
 A little lock of golden hair. 
 
 Long years ago this holy time, 
 
 My little one my all to me 
 Sat robed in white upon my knee 
 
 And heard the merry Christmas chime. 
 
 " Tell me, my little golden-head, 
 
 If Santa Claus should come to-night, 
 What shall he bring my baby bright, 
 
 What treasure for my boy ? " I said. 
 
 And then he named this little toy, 
 
 While in his round and mournful eyes 
 There came a look of sweet surprise, 
 
 That spake his quiet, trustful joy. 
 
CHRISTMAS TREASURES. 63 
 
 And as he lisped his evening prayer 
 
 He asked the boon with childish grace ; 
 Then, toddling to the chimney-place, 
 
 He hung this little stocking there. 
 
 That night, while lengthening shadows crept, 
 I saw the white-winged angels come 
 With singing to our lowly home 
 
 And kiss my darling as he slept. 
 
 They must have heard his little prayer, 
 For in the morn, with rapturous face, 
 He toddled to the chimney-place, 
 
 And found this little treasure there. 
 
 They came again one Christmas-tide, 
 That angel host, so fair and white ! 
 And singing all that glorious night, 
 
 They lured my darling from my side. 
 
 A little sock, a little toy, 
 
 A little lock of golden hair, 
 The Christmas music on the air, 
 
 A watching for my baby boy ! 
 
64 CHRISTMAS TREASURES. 
 
 But if again that angel train 
 
 And golden-head come back for me, 
 
 To bear me to Eternity, 
 My watching will not be in vain ! 
 
 1879. 
 
DE AMICITIIS. 65 
 
 DE AMICITIIS. 
 
 THOUGH care and strife 
 
 Elsewhere be rife, 
 Upon my word I do not heed em ; 
 
 In bed I lie 
 
 With books hard by, 
 And with increasing zest I read em. 
 
 Propped up in bed, 
 
 So much I ve read 
 Of musty tomes that I Ve a headful 
 
 Of tales and rhymes 
 
 Of ancient times, 
 Which, wife declares, are "simply dreadful! 
 
 They give me joy 
 
 Without alloy ; 
 And is n t that what books are made for ? 
 
 And yet and yet 
 
 (Ah, vain regret !) 
 
 I would to God they all were paid for ! 
 5 
 
66 DE AMICITIIS. 
 
 No festooned cup 
 
 Filled foaming up 
 Can lure me elsewhere to confound me ; 
 
 Sweeter than wine 
 
 This love of mine 
 For these old books I see around me ! 
 
 A plague, I say, 
 
 On maidens gay; 
 I 11 weave no compliments to tell em ! 
 
 Vain fool I were, 
 
 Did I prefer 
 Those dolls to these old friends in vellum ! 
 
 At dead of night 
 
 My chamber s bright 
 Not only with the gas that s burning, 
 
 But with the glow 
 
 Of long ago, 
 Of beauty back from eld returning. 
 
 Fair women s looks 
 
 I see in books, 
 I see them, and I hear their laughter, 
 
 Proud, high-born maids, 
 
 Unlike the jades 
 Which menfolk now go chasing after ! 
 
DE AMICITIIS. 67 
 
 Herein again 
 
 Speak valiant men 
 Of all nativities and ages ; 
 
 I hear and smile 
 
 With rapture while 
 I turn these musty, magic pages. 
 
 The sword, the lance, 
 
 The morris dance, 
 The highland song, the greenwood ditty. 
 
 Of these I read, 
 
 Or, when the need, 
 My Miller grinds me grist that s gritty ! 
 
 When of such stuff 
 
 We Ve had enough, 
 Why, there be other friends to greet us ; 
 
 We 11 moralize 
 
 In solemn wise 
 With Plato or with Epictetus. 
 
 Sneer as you may, 
 
 I m proud to say 
 That I, for one, am very grateful 
 
 To Heaven, that sends 
 
 These genial friends 
 To banish other friendships hateful ! 
 
68 DE AMICITIIS. 
 
 And when I m done, 
 
 I d have no son 
 Pounce on these treasures like a vulture 
 
 Nay, give them half 
 
 My epitaph, 
 And let them share in my sepulture. 
 
 Then, when the crack 
 
 Of doom rolls back 
 The marble and the earth that hide me, 
 
 I 11 smuggle home 
 
 Each precious tome, 
 Without a fear my wife shall chide me i 
 
OUR LADY OF THE MINE. 69 
 
 OUR LADY OF THE MINE. 
 
 r ~nHE Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fellers all 
 
 thought well uv, 
 And there befell the episode I now perpose to 
 
 tell uv; 
 T wuz in the year uv sixty-nine, somewhere 
 
 along in summer, 
 There hove in sight one afternoon a new and 
 
 curious comer; 
 His name wuz Silas Pettibone, a artist by per- 
 
 fession, 
 With a kit of tools and a big mustache and a 
 
 pipe in his possession. 
 He told us, by our leave, he d kind uv like to 
 
 make some sketches 
 Uv the snowy peaks, nd the foamin crick, nd 
 
 the distant mountain stretches ; 
 " You re welkim, sir," sez we, although this sce 
 nery dodge seemed to us 
 A waste uv time where scenery wuz already sooper- 
 
70 OUR LADY OF THE MINE. 
 
 All through the summer Pettibone kep busy at his 
 sketch in , 
 
 At daybreak off for Eagle Pass, and home at night 
 fall, fetchin 
 
 That everlastin book uv his with spider-lines all 
 through it ; 
 
 Three-Fingered Hoover used to say there warn t 
 no meanin to it. 
 
 " Gol durn a man," sez he to him, " whose shif less 
 hand is sot at 
 
 A-drawin hills that s full uv quartz that s pinin 
 to be got at ! " 
 
 "Go on," sez Pettibone, "go on, if joshin grati 
 fies ye; 
 
 But one uv these fine times I 11 show ye sumthin 
 will surprise ye ! " 
 
 The which remark led us to think although he 
 did n t say it 
 
 That Pettibone wuz owin us a gredge nd meant 
 to pay it. 
 
 One evenin as we sat around the Restauraw de 
 
 Casey, 
 A-singin songs nd tellin yarns the which wuz 
 
 sumwhat racy, 
 
OUR LADY OF THE MINE. 
 
 In come that feller Pettibone, nd sez, " With your 
 permission, 
 
 I d like to put a picture I have made on exhi 
 bition." 
 
 He sot the picture on the bar nd drew aside its 
 curtain, 
 
 Sayin , " I recken you 11 allow as how that s art, 
 f r certain ! " 
 
 And then we looked, with jaws agape, but nary 
 word wuz spoken, 
 
 And f r a likely spell the charm uv silence wuz 
 unbroken 
 
 Till presently, as in a dream, remarked Three- 
 Fingered Hoover : 
 
 " Onless I am mistaken, this is Pettibone s shef 
 doover ! " 
 
 It wuz a face a human face a woman s, fair 
 
 nd tender 
 Sot gracefully upon a neck white as a swan s, and 
 
 slender ; 
 The hair wuz kind uv sunny, nd the eyes wuz sort 
 
 uv dreamy, 
 The mouth wuz half a-smilin , nd the cheeks wuz 
 
 soft nd creamy ; 
 
72 OUR LADY OF THE MINE. 
 
 It seemed like she wuz lookin off into the west 
 
 out yonder, 
 And seemed like, while she looked, we saw her 
 
 eyes grow softer, fonder, 
 Like, lookin off into the west, where mountain 
 
 mists wuz fallin , 
 She saw the face she longed to see and heerd his 
 
 voice a-callin ; 
 Hooray ! " we cried, "a woman in the camp uv 
 
 Blue Horizon ! 
 Step right up, Colonel Pettibone, nd nominate your 
 
 pizen ! " 
 
 A curious situation, one deservin uv your 
 
 pity, 
 No human, livin , female thing this side of Denver 
 
 City! 
 But jest a lot uv husky men that lived on sand nd 
 
 bitters, 
 Do you wonder that that woman s face consoled 
 
 the lonesome critters ? 
 And not a one but what it served in some way to 
 
 remind him 
 Of a mother or a sister or a sweetheart left behind 
 
 him ; 
 
OUR LADY OF THE MINE. 73 
 
 And some looked back on happier days, and saw 
 
 the old-time faces 
 And heerd the dear familiar sounds in old familiar 
 
 places, 
 A gracious touch of home. " Look here," sez 
 
 Hoover, "ever body 
 Quit thinkin nd perceed at oncet to name his 
 
 favorite toddy ! " 
 
 It wuz n t long afore the news had spread the coun 
 try over, 
 
 And miners come a-flockin in like honey-bees to 
 clover ; 
 
 It kind uv did em good, they said, to feast their 
 hungry eyes on 
 
 That picture uv Our Lady in the camp uv Blue 
 Horizon. 
 
 But one mean cuss from Nigger Crick passed criti 
 cisms on er, 
 
 Leastwise we overheerd him call her Pettibone s 
 madonner, 
 
 The which we did not take to be respectful to a 
 lady, 
 
 So we hung him in a quiet spot that wuz cool nd 
 dry nd shady; 
 
74 OUR LADY OF THE MINE. 
 
 Which same might not have been good law, but it 
 
 WUZ the right maneuver 
 To give the critics due respect for Pettibone s shef 
 
 doover. 
 
 Gone is the camp, yes, years ago the Blue Hori 
 zon busted, 
 And every mother s son uv us got up one day nd 
 
 dusted, 
 While Pettibone perceeded East with wealth in his 
 
 possession, 
 And went to Yurrup, as I heerd, to study his per- 
 
 fession ; 
 So, like as not, you 11 find him now a-paintin heads 
 
 nd faces 
 At Venus, Billy Florence, and the like I-talyun 
 
 places. 
 But no sech face he 11 paint again as at old Blue 
 
 Horizon, 
 For I 11 allow no sweeter face no human soul sot 
 
 eyes on ; 
 And when the critics talk so grand uv Paris nd the 
 
 Loover, 
 \ say, " Oh, but you orter seen the Pettibone shef 
 
 doover ! " 
 
THE WANDERER. 75 
 
 THE WANDERER. 
 
 UPON a mountain height, far from the sea, 
 I found a shell, 
 
 And to my listening ear the lonely thing 
 Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing, 
 Ever a tale of ocean seemed to tell. 
 
 How came the shell upon that mountain height? 
 
 Ah, who can say 
 
 Whether there dropped by some too careless hand, 
 Or whether there cast when Ocean swept the Land, 
 
 Ere the Eternal had ordained the Day ? 
 
 Strange, was it not ? Far from its native deep, 
 
 One song it sang, 
 Sang of the awful mysteries of the tide, 
 Sang of the misty sea, profound and wide, 
 
 Ever with echoes of the ocean rang. 
 
7 6 THE WANDERER. 
 
 And as the shell upon the mountain height 
 
 Sings of the sea, 
 
 So do I ever, leagues and leagues away, 
 So do I ever, wandering where I may, 
 
 Sing, O my home ! sing, O my home ! of thee. 
 
 1883. 
 
TO A USURPER. 77 
 
 TO A USURPER. 
 
 A HA ! a traitor in the camp, 
 A rebel strangely bold, 
 A lisping, laughing, toddling scamp, 
 Not more than four years old ! 
 
 To think that I, who ve ruled alone 
 
 So proudly in the past, 
 Should be ejected from my throne 
 
 By my own son at last ! 
 
 He trots his treason to and fro, 
 
 As only babies can, 
 And says he 11 be his mamma s beau 
 
 When he s a " gweat, big man " ! 
 
 You stingy boy ! you ve always had 
 A share in mamma s heart ; 
 
 Would you begrudge your poor old dad 
 The tiniest little part ? 
 
78 TO A USURPER. 
 
 That mamma, I regret to see, 
 Inclines to take your part, 
 
 As if a dual monarchy 
 
 Should rule her gentle heart ! 
 
 But when the years of youth have sped, 
 The bearded man, I trow, 
 
 Will quite forget he ever said 
 He d be his mamma s beau. 
 
 Renounce your treason, little son, 
 Leave mamma s heart to me ; 
 
 For there will come another one 
 To claim your loyalty. 
 
 And when that other comes to you, 
 God grant her love may shine 
 
 Through all your life, as fair and true 
 As mamma s does through mine ! 
 
 1885. 
 
LULLABY; BY THE SEA. 79 
 
 LULLABY ; BY THE SEA. 
 
 AIR is the castle up on the hill 
 
 Hushaby, sweet my own ! 
 The night is fair, and the waves are still, 
 And the wind is singing to you and to me 
 In this lowly home beside the sea 
 
 Hushaby, sweet my own ! 
 
 On yonder hill is store of wealth 
 
 Hushaby, sweet my own ! 
 And revellers drink to a little one s health ; 
 But you and I bide night and day 
 For the other love that has sailed away 
 
 Hushaby, sweet my own ! 
 
 See not, dear eyes, the forms that creep 
 
 Ghostlike, O my own ! 
 Out of the mists of the murmuring deep ; 
 Oh, see them not and make no cry 
 Till the angels of death have passed us by - 
 
 Hushaby, sweet my own ! 
 
80 LULLABY; BY THE SEA. 
 
 Ah, little they reck of you and me 
 
 Hushaby, sweet my own ! 
 In our lonely home beside the sea ; 
 They seek the castle up on the hill, 
 And there they will do their ghostly will 
 
 Hushaby, O my own ! 
 
 Here by the sea a mother croons 
 
 " Hushaby, sweet my own ! " 
 In yonder castle a mother swoons 
 While the angels go down to the misty deep, 
 Bearing a little one fast asleep 
 Hushaby, sweet my own ! 
 
SOLDIER, MAIDEN, AND FLOWER. 8 1 
 
 SOLDIER, MAIDEN, AND FLOWER. 
 
 " O WEETHEART, take this," a soldier said, 
 
 ^ " And bid me brave good-by ; 
 It may befall we ne er shall wed, 
 
 But love can never die. 
 Be steadfast in thy troth to me, 
 
 And then, whate er my lot, 
 * My soul to God, my heart to thee, 
 
 Sweetheart, forget me not ! " 
 
 The maiden took the tiny flower 
 
 And nursed it with her tears : 
 Lo ! he who left her in that hour 
 
 Came not in after years. 
 Unto a hero s death he rode 
 
 Mid shower of fire and shot; 
 But in the maiden s heart abode 
 
 The flower, forget-me-not. 
 6 
 
82 SOLDIER, MAIDEN, AND FLOWER. 
 
 And when he came not with the rest 
 
 From out the years of blood, 
 Closely unto her widowed breast 
 
 She pressed a faded bud ; 
 Oh, there is love and there is pain, 
 
 And there is peace, God wot, 
 And these dear three do live again 
 
 In sweet forget-me-not. 
 
 T is to an unmarked grave to-day 
 
 That I should love to go, 
 Whether he wore the blue or gray, 
 
 What need that we should know. 
 "He loved a woman," let us say, 
 
 And on that sacred spot, 
 To woman s love, that lives for aye, 
 
 We 11 strew forget-me-not. 
 
 1887. 
 
HORACE TO MELPOMENE. 83 
 
 HORACE TO MELPOMENE. 
 
 T OFTY and enduring is the monument I Ve 
 *- reared, 
 
 Come, tempests, with your bitterness assailing; 
 And thou, corrosive blasts of time, by all things 
 mortal feared, 
 
 Thy buffets and thy rage are unavailing ! 
 
 I shall not altogether die ; by far my greater pai 
 Shall mock man s common fate in realms infernal 
 
 My works shall live as tributes to my genius ana 
 
 my art, 
 My works shall be my monument eternal ! 
 
 While this great Roman empire stands and gods 
 
 protect our fanes, 
 
 Mankind with grateful hearts shall tell the story, 
 How one most lowly born upon the parched 
 
 lian plains 
 First raised the native lyric muse to glory. 
 
84 HORACE TO MELPOMENE. 
 
 Assume, revered Melpomene, the proud estate I Ve 
 
 won, 
 
 And, with thine own dear hand the meed sup 
 plying, 
 
 Bind thou about the forehead of thy celebrated son 
 The Delphic laurel-wreath of fame undying ! 
 
AILS IE, MY BAIRN. 85 
 
 AILSIE, MY BAIRN. 
 
 T IE in my arms, Ailsie, my bairn, 
 ^~* Lie in my arms and dinna greit ; 
 Long time been past syn I kenned you last, 
 But my harte been allwais the same, my swete. 
 
 Ailsie, I colde not say you ill, 
 
 For out of the mist of your bitter tears, 
 
 And the prayers that rise from your bonnie eyes 
 Cometh a promise of oder yeres. 
 
 I mind the time when we lost our bairn, 
 Do you ken that time ? A wambling tot, 
 
 You wandered away ane simmer day, 
 
 And we hunted and called, and found you not. 
 
 I promised God, if He d send you back, 
 Alwaies to keepe and to love you, childe ; 
 
 And I m thinking again of that promise when 
 I see you creep out of the storm sae wild. 
 
86 AILSIE, MY BAIRN. 
 
 You came back then as you come back now, 
 Your kirtle torn and your face all white ; 
 
 And you stood outside and knockit and cried, 
 Just as you, dearie, did to-night. 
 
 Oh, never a word of the cruel wrang, 
 
 That has faded your cheek and dimmed your ee ; 
 And never a word of the fause, fause lord, 
 
 Only a smile and a kiss for me. 
 
 Lie in my arms, as long, long syne, 
 
 And sleepe on my bosom, deere wounded thing, 
 I m nae sae glee as I use to be, 
 
 Or I d sing you the songs I use to sing. 
 
 But He kemb my fingers thro yr haire, 
 And nane shall know, but you and I, 
 
 Of the love and the faith that came to us baith 
 When Ailsie, my bairn, came home to die. 
 
CORNISH LULLABY. 87 
 
 CORNISH LULLABY. 
 
 T on the mountain over the town, 
 All night long, all night long, 
 The trolls go up and the trolls go down, 
 
 Bearing their packs and crooning a song ; 
 And this is the song the hill-folk croon, 
 As they trudge in the light of the misty moon, 
 This is ever their dolorous tune : 
 " Gold, gold ! ever more gold, 
 
 Bright red gold for dearie ! " 
 
 Deep in the hill the yeoman delves 
 
 All night long, all night long ; 
 None but the peering, furtive elves 
 
 See his toil and hear his song ; 
 Merrily ever the cavern rings 
 As merrily ever his pick he swings, 
 And merrily ever this song he sings : 
 " Gold, gold ! ever more gold, 
 
 Bright red gold for dearie ! " 
 
88 CORNISH LULLABY. 
 
 Mother is rocking thy lowly bed 
 
 All night long, all night long, 
 Happy to smooth thy curly head 
 
 And to hold thy hand and to sing her song ; 
 T is not of the hill-folk, dwarfed and old, 
 Nor the song of the yeoman, stanch and bold, 
 And the burden it beareth is not of gold ; 
 But it s " Love, love ! nothing but love, 
 Mother s love for dearie ! " 
 
UHLAND^S "THREE CAVALIERS." 89 
 
 UHLAND S "THREE CAVALIERS." 
 
 r T^HERE were three cavaliers that went over the 
 * Rhine, 
 
 And gayly they called to the hostess for wine. 
 " And where is thy daughter ? We would she were 
 
 here, 
 Go fetch us that maiden to gladden our cheer ! " 
 
 " I 11 fetch thee thy goblets full foaming," she 
 
 said, 
 " But in yon darkened chamber the maiden lies 
 
 dead." 
 
 And lo ! as they stood in the doorway, the white 
 Of a shroud and a dead shrunken face met their 
 
 sight. 
 
 Then the first cavalier breathed a pitiful sigh, 
 And the throb of his heart seemed to melt in his 
 eye, 
 
90 UH LAND S "THREE CAVALIERS." 
 
 And he cried, " Hadst thou lived, O my pretty 
 
 white rose, 
 I ween I had loved thee and wed thee who 
 
 knows ? " 
 
 The next cavalier drew aside a small space, 
 And stood to the wall with his hands to his face; 
 And this was the heart-cry that came with his 
 
 tears : 
 " I loved her, I loved her these many long years ! " 
 
 But the third cavalier kneeled him down in that 
 
 place, 
 
 And, as it were holy, he kissed that dead face : 
 " I loved thee long years, and I love thee to-day, 
 And I 11 love thee, dear maiden, forever and aye ! " 
 
CHAUCERIAN PARAPHRASE OF HORACE. 9 1 
 
 A CHAUCERIAN PARAPHRASE OF 
 HORACE. 
 
 YN that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken, 
 
 Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures full sicken ; 
 Like as a lyttel deere you ben y-hiding 
 Whenas come lovers with theyre pityse chiding ; 
 Sothly it ben faire to give up your moder 
 For to beare swete company with some oder ; 
 Your moder ben well enow so farre shee goeth, 
 But that ben not farre enow, God knoweth ; 
 Wherefore it ben sayed that foolysh ladyes 
 That marrye not shall leade an aype in Hadys ; 
 But all that do with gode men wed full quickylye 
 When that they be on dead go to ye seints full 
 sickerly. 
 
9 2 NORSE LULLABY. 
 
 NORSE LULLABY. 
 
 HP HE sky is dark and the hills are white 
 
 As the storm-king speeds from the north 
 
 to-night, 
 
 And this is the song the storm-king sings, 
 As over the world his cloak he flings : 
 
 " Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep ; " 
 He rustles his wings and gruffly sings : 
 " Sleep, little one, sleep." 
 
 On yonder mountain-side a vine 
 Clings at the foot of a mother pine ; 
 The tree bends over the trembling thing, 
 And only the vine can hear her sing : 
 
 " Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep ; 
 What shall you fear when I am here ? 
 
 Sleep, little one, sleep." 
 
NORSE LULLABY. 93 
 
 The king may sing in his bitter flight, 
 The tree may croon to the vine to-night, 
 But the little snowflake at my breast 
 Liketh the song /sing the best, 
 
 Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep ; 
 Weary thou art, anext my heart 
 
 Sleep, little one, sleep. 
 
94 BERA.VGER S "MY LAST SONG, PERHAPS." 
 
 BERANGER S " MY LAST SONG 
 PERHAPS." 
 
 [JANUARY, 1814.] 
 
 "X \ 7 HEN, to despoil my native France, 
 
 With flaming torch and cruel sword 
 And boisterous drums her foeman comes, 
 
 I curse him and his vandal horde ! 
 Yet, what avail accrues to her, 
 
 If we assume the garb of woe ? 
 Let s merry be, in laughter we 
 
 May rescue somewhat from the foe! 
 
 Ah, many a brave man trembles now. 
 
 I (coward !) show no sign of fear ; 
 When Bacchus sends his blessing, friends, 
 
 I drown my panic in his cheer. 
 Come, gather round my humble board, 
 
 And let the sparkling wassail flow, 
 Chuckling to think, the while you drink, 
 
 " This much we rescue from the foe ! " 
 
BERANGER S "Mr LAST SO.VG, PERHAPS." 95 
 
 My creditors beset me so 
 
 And so environed my abode, 
 That I agreed, despite my need, 
 
 To settle up the debts I owed ; 
 When suddenly there came the news 
 
 Of this invasion, as you know ; 
 I 11 pay no score ; pray, lend me more, 
 
 I /will keep it from the foe ! 
 
 Now here s my mistress, pretty dear ! 
 
 Feigns terror at this martial noise, 
 And yet, methinks, the artful minx 
 
 Would like to meet those soldier boys ! 
 I tell her that they re coarse and rude, 
 
 Yet feel she don t believe em so, 
 Well, never mind ; so she be kind, 
 
 That much I rescue from the foe ! 
 
 If, brothers, hope shall have in store 
 
 For us and ours no friendly glance, 
 Let s rather die than raise a cry 
 
 Of welcome to the foes of France ! 
 But, like the swan that dying sings, 
 
 Let us, O Frenchmen, singing go, 
 Then shall our cheer, when death is near, 
 
 Be so much rescued from the foe ! 
 
9 6 MR. DANA, OF THE NEW YORK SUN. 
 
 MR. DANA, OF THE NEW YORK SUN. 
 showed up out n Denver in the spring 
 
 X uv 8 1 
 A man who d worked with Dana on the Noo York 
 
 Sun. 
 His name wuz Cantell Whoppers, nd he wuz a 
 
 sight ter view 
 Ez he walked inter the orfice nd inquired fer work 
 
 to do. 
 Thar warn t no places vacant then, fer be it un 
 
 derstood, 
 That wuz the time when talent flourished at that 
 
 altitood ; 
 But thar the stranger lingered, tellin Raymond nd 
 
 the rest 
 Uv what perdigious wonders he could do when at 
 
 his best, 
 Til finally he stated (quite by chance) that he hed 
 
 done 
 A heap uv work with Dana on the Noo York Sun. 
 
MR. DANA, OF THE NEW YORK SUN. 97 
 
 Wall, that wuz quite another thing ; we owned that 
 
 ary cuss 
 Who d worked f r Mr. Dana must be good enough 
 
 fer us ! 
 And so we tuk the stranger s word nd nipped him 
 
 while we could, 
 For if we didn t take him we knew John Arkins 
 
 would; 
 And Cooper, too, wuz mouzin round fer enterprise 
 
 nd brains, 
 Whenever them commodities blew in across the 
 
 plains. 
 At any rate we nailed him, which made oP Cooper 
 
 swear 
 And Arkins tear out handfuls uv his copious curly 
 
 hair ; 
 But we set back and cackled, nd hed a power uv 
 
 fun 
 With our man who d worked with Dana on the Noo 
 
 York Sun. 
 
 It made our eyes hang on our cheeks nd lower 
 
 jaws ter drop, 
 Tcr hear that feller tellin how oP Dana run his 
 
 shop : 
 
 7 
 
9 8 MR. DAN A, OF THE NEW YORK SUN. 
 
 It seems that Dana wuz the biggest man you ever 
 
 saw, 
 He lived on human bein s, nd preferred to eat em 
 
 raw! 
 If he hed democratic drugs ter take, before he took 
 
 em , 
 As good old allopathic laws prescribe, he allus 
 
 shook em. 
 The man that could set down nd write like Dany 
 
 never grew, 
 And the sum of human knowledge wuz n t half 
 
 what Dana knew ; 
 The consequence appeared to be that nearly every 
 
 one 
 Concurred with Mr. Dana of the Noo York Sun. 
 
 This feller, Cantell Whoppers, never brought an 
 
 item in, 
 He spent his time at Perrin s shakin poker dice f r 
 
 gin- 
 Whatever the assignment he wuz allus sure to shirk, 
 He wuz very long on likker and all-fired short on 
 
 work ! 
 If any other cuss had played the tricks he dared 
 
 ter play, 
 
MR. DANA, OF THE NEW YORK SUN. 99 
 
 The daisies would be bloomin over his remains 
 
 to-day ; 
 But somehow folks respected him and stood him 
 
 to the last, 
 
 Considerin his superior connections in the past. 
 So, when he bilked at poker, not a sucker drew a 
 
 gun 
 On the man who d worked with Dana on the Noo 
 
 York Sun. 
 
 Wall, Dana came ter Denver in the fall uv 83, 
 A very different party from the man we thought ter 
 
 see, 
 A nice nd clean old gentleman, so dignerfied nd 
 
 calm, 
 
 You bet yer life he never did no human bein harm ! 
 A certain hearty manner nd a fulness uv the vest 
 Betokened that his sperrits nd his victuals wuz the 
 
 best; 
 His face was so benevolent, his smile so sweet nd 
 
 kind, 
 That they seemed to be the reflex uv an honest, 
 
 healthy mind ; 
 And God had set upon his head a crown uv silver 
 
 hair 
 
100 MR. DANA, OF THE NEW YORK SUN. 
 
 In promise uv the golden crown He meaneth him 
 
 to wear. 
 So, uv us boys that met him out n Denver, there 
 
 wuz none 
 But fell in love with Dana uv the Noo York 
 
 Sun. 
 
 But when he came to Denver in that fall uv 83, 
 His old friend Cantell Whoppers disappeared 
 
 upon a spree ; 
 The very thought uv seein Dana worked upon 
 
 him so 
 (They had n t been together fer a year or two, you 
 
 know), 
 That he borrered all the stuff he could and started 
 
 on a bat, 
 And, strange as it may seem, we didn t see him 
 
 after that. 
 
 So, when ol Dana hove in sight, we could n t un 
 derstand 
 Why he did n t seem to notice that his crony wa n t 
 
 on hand ; 
 
 No casual allusion, not a question, no, not one, 
 For the man who d " worked with Dana on the Noo 
 
 Ycrk Sun ! " 
 
MR. DANA, OF THE Ntf YtitiK" SUN. M>* \ 
 
 We broke it gently to him, out > he didn t sGc m 
 
 surprised, 
 Thar wuz no big burst uv passion as we fellers had 
 
 surmised. 
 He said that Whoppers wuz a man he d never 
 
 heerd about, 
 But he mought have carried papers on a Jarsey 
 
 City route ; 
 
 And then he recollected hearin Mr. Laffan say 
 That he d fired a man named Whoppers fur bein 
 
 drunk one day, 
 Which, with more likker underneath than money in 
 
 his vest, 
 Had started on a freight train fur the great nd 
 
 boundin West, 
 
 But further information or statistics he had none 
 Uv the man who d " worked with Dana on the Noo 
 
 York Sun." 
 
 We dropped the matter quietly nd never made no 
 
 fuss, 
 When we get played for suckers, why, that s a horse 
 
 on us ! 
 But every now nd then we Denver fellers have to 
 
 faff 
 
102 MR. DA& A-, OF THE NEW YORK SUN. 
 
 To hear some other paper boast uv havin on its 
 
 staff 
 A man who s "worked with Dana," nd then we 
 
 fellers wink 
 And pull our hats down on our eyes nd set around 
 
 nd think. 
 It seems like Dana couldn t be as smart as people 
 
 say, 
 If he educates so many folks nd lets em get 
 
 away; 
 And, as for us, in future we 11 be very apt to 
 
 shun 
 The man who "worked with Dana on the Noo 
 
 York Sun." 
 
 But bless ye, Mr. Dana ! may you live a thousan 
 
 years, 
 To sort o keep things lively in this vale of human 
 
 tears ; 
 An may / live a thousan , too, a thousan less a 
 
 day, 
 For I should n t like to be on earth to hear you d 
 
 passed away. 
 And when it comes your time to go you 11 need no 
 
 Latin chaff 
 
MR. DANA, OF THE NEW YORK SUN. 103 
 
 Nor biographic data put in your epitaph ; 
 
 But one straight line of English and of truth will 
 
 let folks know 
 The homage nd the gratitude nd reverence they 
 
 owe; 
 You 11 need no epitaph but this : " Here sleeps 
 
 the man who run 
 That best nd brightest paper, the Noo York 
 
 Sun." 
 
104 SICILIAN LULLABY. 
 
 SICILIAN LULLABY. 
 
 T T USH, little one, and fold your hands ; 
 The sun hath set, the moon is high ; 
 The sea is singing to the sands, 
 
 And wakeful posies are beguiled 
 By many a fairy lullaby : 
 
 Hush, little child, my little child ! 
 
 Dream, little one, and in your dreams 
 
 Float upward from this lowly place, 
 Float out on mellow, misty streams 
 
 To lands where bideth Mary mild, 
 And let her kiss thy little face, 
 You little child, my little child ! 
 
 Sleep, little one, and take thy rest, 
 
 With angels bending over thee, 
 Sleep sweetly on that Father s breast 
 
 Whom our dear Christ hath reconciled ; 
 But stay not there, come back to me, 
 O little child, my little child ! 
 
HORACE TO PYRRHA. 105 
 
 HORACE TO PYRRHA. 
 
 "\ T THAT perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah, 
 
 * * With smiles for diet, 
 Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha, 
 
 On the quiet ? 
 For whom do you bind up your tresses, 
 
 As spun-gold yellow, 
 Meshes that go, with your caresses, 
 
 To snare a fellow ? 
 
 How will he rail at fate capricious, 
 
 And curse you duly ! 
 Yet now he deems your wiles delicious, 
 
 You perfect, truly ! 
 Pyrrha, your love s a treacherous ocean ; 
 
 He 11 soon fall in there ! 
 Then shall I gloat on his commotion, 
 
 For / have been there ! 
 
IO6 THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM, 
 
 THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. 
 
 A l\ Y Shepherd is the Lord my God, 
 
 There is no want I know ; 
 His flock He leads in verdant meads, 
 Where tranquil waters flow. 
 
 He doth restore my fainting soul 
 
 With His divine caress, 
 And, when I stray, He points the way 
 
 To paths of righteousness. 
 
 Yea, though I walk the vale of death, 
 
 What evil shall I fear ? 
 Thy staff and rod are mine, O God, 
 
 And Thou, my Shepherd, near ! 
 
 Mine enemies behold the feast 
 Which my dear Lord hath spread ; 
 
 And, lo ! my cup He filleth up. 
 With oil anoints my head ! 
 
THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. 
 
 Goodness and mercy shall be mine 
 
 Unto my dying day ; 
 Then will I bide at His dear side 
 
 Forever and for aye ! 
 
108 THE BIBLIOMANIAC S BRIDE. 
 
 THE BIBLIOMANIACS BRIDE. 
 
 HPHE womenfolk are like to books, 
 
 Most pleasing to the eye, 
 Whereon if anybody looks 
 He feels disposed to buy. 
 
 I hear that many are for sale, 
 
 Those that record no dates, 
 And such editions as regale 
 
 The view with colored plates. 
 
 Of every quality and grade 
 And size they may be found, 
 
 Quite often beautifully made, 
 As often poorly bound. 
 
 Now, as for me, had I my choice, 
 
 I d choose no folio tall, 
 But some octavo to rejoice 
 
 My sight and heart withal, 
 
THE BIBLIOMANIAC S BRIDE. 
 
 As plump and pudgy as a snipe ; 
 
 Well worth her weight in gold ; 
 Of honest, clean, conspicuous type, 
 
 And just the size to hold ! 
 
 With such a volume for my wife, 
 
 How should I keep and con ! 
 How like a dream should run my life 
 
 Unto its colophon ! 
 
 Her frontispiece should be more fair 
 
 Than any colored plate ; 
 Blooming with health, she would not care 
 
 To extra-illustrate. 
 
 And in her pages there should be 
 
 A wealth of prose and verse, 
 With now and then ajeu d" 1 esprit, 
 
 But nothing ever worse ! 
 
 Prose for me when I wished for prose, 
 Verse when to verse inclined, 
 
 Forever bringing sweet repose 
 To body, heart, and mind. 
 
HO THE BIBLIOMANIAC S BRIDE. 
 
 Oh, I should bind this priceless prize 
 
 In bindings full and fine, 
 And keep her where no human eyes 
 
 Should see her charms, but mine ! 
 
 With such a fair unique as this 
 
 What happiness abounds ! 
 Who who could paint my rapturous bliss, 
 
 My joy unknown to Lowndes ! 
 
CHRISTMAS HYMN. Ill 
 
 CHRISTMAS HYMN. 
 
 SING, Christmas bells ! 
 Say to the earth this is the morn 
 Whereon our Saviour-King is born ; 
 
 Sing to all men, the bond, the free, 
 The rich, the poor, the high, the low, 
 The little child that sports in glee, 
 The aged folk that tottering go, 
 Proclaim the morn 
 That Christ is born, 
 That saveth them and saveth me ! 
 
 Sing, angel host ! 
 
 Sing of the star that God has placed 
 Above the manger in the east ; 
 
 Sing of the glories of the night, 
 The virgin s sweet humility, 
 
 The Babe with kingly robes bedight, - 
 Sing to all men where er they be 
 This Christmas morn ; 
 For Christ is born, 
 That saveth them and saveth me ! 
 
112 CHRISTMAS HYMN, 
 
 Sing, sons of earth ! 
 O ransomed seed of Adam, sing ! 
 God liveth, and we have a king ! 
 
 The curse is gone, the bond are free, 
 By Bethlehem s star that brightly beamed, 
 
 By all the heavenly signs that be, 
 We know that Israel is redeemed ; 
 That on this morn 
 The Christ is born 
 That saveth you and saveth me ! 
 
 Sing, O my heart ! 
 Sing thou in rapture this dear morn 
 Whereon the blessed Prince is born ! 
 
 And as thy songs shall be of love, 
 So let my deeds be charity, 
 
 By the dear Lord that reigns above, 
 By Him that died upon the tree, 
 By this fair morn 
 Whereon is born 
 The Christ that saveth all and me ! 
 
JAPANESE LULLABY. 1 13 
 
 JAPANESE LULLABY. 
 
 O LEEP, little pigeon, and fold your wings, 
 
 Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes ; 
 
 Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swinging 
 
 Swinging the nest where her little one lies. 
 
 Away out yonder I see a star, 
 
 Silvery star with a tinkling song ; 
 To the soft dew falling I hear it calling 
 
 Calling and tinkling the night along. 
 
 In through the window a moonbeam comes, 
 Little gold moonbeam with misty wings ; 
 
 All silently creeping, it asks, " Is he sleeping 
 Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings ? " 
 
 Up from the sea there floats the sob 
 
 Of the waves that are breaking upon the shore, 
 As though they were groaning in anguish, and 
 moaning 
 
 Bemoaning the ship that shall come no more. 
 
114 JAPANESE LULLABY. 
 
 But sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings, 
 Little blue pigeon with mournful eyes ; 
 
 Am I not singing ? see, I am swinging 
 Swinging the nest where my darling lies. 
 
"GOOD-BY-GOD BLESS YOU!" II 5 
 
 "GOOD-BY GOD BLESS YOU!" 
 
 T LIKE the Anglo-Saxon speech 
 * With its direct revealings ; 
 It takes a hold, and seems to reach 
 
 Way down into your feelings ; 
 That some folk deem it rude, I know, 
 
 And therefore they abuse it ; 
 But I have never found it so, 
 
 Before all else I choose it. 
 I don t object that men should air 
 
 The Gallic they have paid for, 
 With " Au revoir," " Adieu, ma chere," 
 
 For that s what French was made for. 
 But when a crony takes your hand 
 
 At parting, to address you, 
 He drops all foreign lingo and 
 
 He says, " Good-by God bless you ! * 
 
 This seems to me a sacred phrase, 
 With reverence impassioned, 
 
Il6 "GOOD-BYGOD BLESS YOU I" 
 
 A thing come down from righteous days, 
 
 Quaintly but nobly fashioned ; 
 It well becomes an honest face, 
 
 A voice that s round and cheerful ; 
 It stays the sturdy in his place, 
 
 And soothes the weak and fearful. 
 Into the porches of the ears 
 
 It steals with subtle unction, 
 And in your heart of hearts appears 
 
 To work its gracious function; 
 And all day long with pleasing song 
 
 It lingers to caress you, 
 I m sure no human heart goes wrong 
 
 That s told " Good-by God bless you ! 
 
 I love the words, perhaps because, 
 
 When I was leaving Mother, 
 Standing at last in solemn pause 
 
 We looked at one another, 
 And I I saw in Mother s eyes 
 
 The love she could not tell me, 
 A love eternal as the skies, 
 
 Whatever fate befell me ; 
 She put her arms about my neck 
 
 And soothed the pain of leaving, 
 
GOOD-BYGOD BLESS YOU!" 
 
 And though her heart was like to break, 
 She spoke no word of grieving ; 
 
 She let no tear bedim her eye, 
 For fear that might distress me, 
 
 But, kissing me, she said good-by, 
 And asked our God to bless me. 
 
n8 
 
 HORACE TO PHYLLIS. 
 
 HORACE TO PHYLLIS. 
 
 , Phyllis, I Ve a cask of wine 
 That fairly reeks with precious juices, 
 And in your tresses you shall twine 
 
 The loveliest flowers this vale produces. 
 
 My cottage wears a gracious smile, 
 The altar, decked in floral glory, 
 
 Yearns for the lamb which bleats the while 
 As though it pined for honors gory. 
 
 Hither our neighbors nimbly fare, 
 The boys agog, the maidens snickering; 
 
 And savory smells possess the air 
 
 As skyward kitchen flames are flickering. 
 
 You ask what means this grand display, 
 This festive throng, and goodly diet ? 
 
 Well, since you re bound to have your way, 
 I don t mind telling, on the quiet. 
 
HORACE TO PHYLLIS. 
 
 Tis April 13, as you know, 
 A day and month devote to Venus, 
 
 Whereon was born, some years ago, 
 My very worthy friend Maecenas. 
 
 Nay, pay no heed to Telephus, 
 Your friends agree he does n t love you ; 
 
 The way he flirts convinces us 
 He really is not worthy of you ! 
 
 Aurora s son, unhappy lad ! 
 
 You know the fate that overtook him ? 
 And Pegasus a rider had 
 
 I say he had before he shook him ! 
 
 Hasc docet (as you must agree) : 
 T is meet that Phyllis should discover 
 
 A wisdom in preferring me 
 And mittening every other lover. 
 
 So come, O Phyllis, last and best 
 
 Of loves with which this heart s been smitten, 
 Come, sing my jealous fears to rest, 
 
 And let your songs be those I ve written. 
 
I2O CHRYSTMASSE OF OLDE. 
 
 CHRYSTMASSE OF OLDE. 
 
 OD rest you, Chrysten gentil men, 
 
 Wherever you may be, 
 God rest you all in fielde or hall, 
 
 Or on ye stormy sea ; 
 For on this morn oure Chryst is born 
 That saveth you and me. 
 
 Last night ye shepherds in ye east 
 Saw many a wondrous thing ; 
 
 Ye sky last night flamed passing bright 
 Whiles that ye stars did sing, 
 
 And angels came to bless ye name 
 Of Jesus Chryst, oure Kyng. 
 
 God rest you, Chrysten gentil men, 
 
 Faring where er you may ; 
 In noblesse court do thou no sport, 
 
 In tournament no playe, 
 In paynim lands hold thou thy hands 
 
 From bloudy works this daye. 
 
CHRYSTMASSE OF OLDE. 121 
 
 But thinking on ye gentil Lord 
 
 That died upon ye tree, 
 Let troublings cease and deeds of peace 
 
 Abound in Chrystantie ; 
 For on this morn ye Chryst is born 
 
 That saveth you and me. 
 
122 AT THE DOOR. 
 
 AT THE DOOR. 
 
 T THOUGHT myself indeed secure, 
 
 So fast the door, so firm the lock; 
 But, lo ! he toddling comes to lure 
 My parent ear with timorous knock. 
 
 My heart were stone could it withstand 
 The sweetness of my baby s plea, 
 
 That timorous, baby knocking and 
 " Please let me in, it s only me." 
 
 I threw aside the unfinished book, 
 Regardless of its tempting charms, 
 
 And opening wide the door, I took 
 My laughing darling in my arms. 
 
 Who knows but in Eternity, 
 I, like a truant child, shall wait 
 
 The glories of a life to be, 
 
 Beyond the Heavenly Father s gate ? 
 
AT THE DOOR. 123 
 
 And will that Heavenly Father heed 
 
 The truant s supplicating cry, 
 As at the outer door I plead, 
 
 " T is I, O Father ! only I ? " 
 
 1886. 
 
124 HI-SPY. 
 
 HI -SPY. 
 
 TRANCE that the city thoroughfare, 
 
 Noisy and bustling all the day, 
 Should with the night renounce its care 
 And lend itself to children s play ! 
 
 Oh, girls are girls, and boys are boys, 
 And have been so since Abel s birth, 
 
 And shall be so til dolls and toys 
 Are with the children swept from earth. 
 
 The self-same sport that crowns the day 
 Of many a Syrian shepherd s son, 
 
 Beguiles the little lads at play 
 By night in stately Babylon. 
 
 I hear their voices in the street, 
 Yet t is so different now from then ! 
 
 Come, brother ! from your winding sheet, 
 And let us two be boys again ! 
 
 1886. 
 
LITTLE C ROOD LIN DOO. 125 
 
 LITTLE CROODLIN DOO. 
 
 T T O, pretty bee, did you see my croodlin doo ? 
 
 Ho, little lamb, is she jinkin on the lea ? 
 Ho, bonnie fairy, bring my dearie back to me 
 Got a lump o sugar an a posie for you, 
 Only bring back my wee, wee croodlin doo ! 
 
 Why, here you are, my little croodlin doo ! 
 Looked in er cradle, but did n t find you there, 
 Looked f V my wee, wee croodlin doo ever where ; 
 
 Ben kind lonesome all er day withouten you ; 
 
 Where you ben, my little wee, wee croodlin doo ? 
 
 Now you go balow, my little croodlin doo ; 
 
 Now you go rockaby ever so far, 
 
 Rockaby, rockaby, up to the star 
 That s winkin an blinkin an singin to you 
 As you go balow, my wee, wee croodlin doo ! 
 
126 
 
 THE "HAPPY ISLES" OF HORACE. 
 
 THE "HAPPY ISLES" OF HORACE. 
 
 /^\H, come with me to the Happy Isles 
 
 In the golden haze off yonder, 
 Where the song of the sun-kissed breeze beguiles, 
 And the ocean loves to wander. 
 
 Fragrant the vines that mantle those hills, 
 
 Proudly the fig rejoices ; 
 Merrily dance the virgin rills, 
 
 Blending their myriad voices. 
 
 Our herds shall fear no evil there, 
 
 But peacefully feed and rest them ; 
 Neither shall serpent or prowling bear 
 
 Ever come there to molest them. 
 
 Neither shall Eurus, wanton bold, 
 
 Nor feverish drouth distress us, 
 But he that compasseth heat and cold 
 
 Shall temper them both to bless us. 
 
THE " HA PPY ISLES " OF HORA CE. 12>J 
 
 There no vandal foot has trod, 
 And the pirate hosts that wander 
 
 Shall never profane the sacred sod 
 Of those beautiful Isles out yonder. 
 
 Never a spell shall blight our vines, 
 
 Nor Sirius blaze above us, 
 But you and I shall drink our wines 
 
 And sing to the loved that love us. 
 
 So come with me where Fortune smiles 
 And the gods invite devotion, 
 
 Oh, come with me to the Happy Isles 
 In the haze of that far-off ocean ! 
 
128 DUTCH LULLABY. 
 
 DUTCH LULLABY. 
 
 TT7YNKEN, Blynken, and Nod one night 
 
 Sailed off in a wooden shoe, 
 Sailed on a river of misty light 
 
 Into a sea of dew. 
 " Where are you going, and what do you wish ? " 
 
 The old moon asked the three. 
 " We have come to fish for the herring-fish 
 That live in this beautiful sea ; 
 Nets of silver and gold have we," 
 Said Wynken, 
 Blynken, 
 And Nod. 
 
 The old moon laughed and sung a song, 
 As they rocked in the wooden shoe ; 
 
 And the wind that sped them all night long 
 Ruffled the waves of dew ; 
 
 The little stars were the herring-fish 
 
 That lived in the beautiful sea. 
 
DUTCH LULLABY. I2<) 
 
 " Now cast your nets wherever you wish, 
 But never afeard are we ! " 
 So cried the stars to the fishermen three, 
 
 Wynken, 
 
 Blynken, 
 
 And Nod. 
 
 All night long their nets they threw 
 
 For the fish in the twinkling foam, 
 Then down from the sky came the wooden shoe, 
 
 Bringing the fishermen home ; 
 T was all so pretty a sail, it seemed 
 
 As if it could not be ; 
 And some folk thought t was a dream they d 
 
 dreamed 
 
 Of sailing that beautiful sea ; 
 But I shall name you the fishermen three : 
 Wynken, 
 Blynken, 
 And Nod. 
 
 Wynken and Btynken are two little eyes, 
 
 And Nod is a little head, 
 And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies 
 
 Is a wee one s trundle-bed ; 
 9 
 
13 DUTCH LULLABY. 
 
 So shut your eyes while Mother sings 
 
 Of wonderful sights that be, 
 And you shall see the beautiful things 
 As you rock on the misty sea 
 Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three, 
 Wynken, 
 Blynken, 
 And Nod. 
 
HUGO S "FLOWER TO BUTTERFLY 
 
 HUGO S "FLOWER TO BUTTERFLY. 
 
 ^WEET, bide with me and let my love 
 
 Be an enduring tether ; 
 Oh, wanton not from spot to spot, 
 But let us dwell together. 
 
 You Ve come each morn to sip the sweets 
 With which you found me dripping, 
 
 Yet never knew it was not dew 
 But tears that you were sipping. 
 
 You gambol over honey meads 
 Where siren bees are humming ; 
 
 But mine the fate to watch and wait 
 For my beloved s coming. 
 
 The sunshine that delights you now 
 Shall fade to darkness gloomy ; 
 
 You should not fear if, biding here* 
 You nestled closer to me. 
 
I3 2 HUGO S "FLOWER TO BUTTERFLY: 
 
 So rest you, love, and be my love, 
 That my enraptured blooming 
 
 May fill your sight with tender light, 
 Your wings with sweet perfuming. 
 
 Or, if you will not bide with me 
 
 Upon this quiet heather, 
 Oh, give me wing, thou beauteous thing, 
 
 That we may soar together. 
 
A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAME LOT. 133 
 
 A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAMELOT. 
 
 AT 7HENAS ye plaisaunt Aperille shoures have 
 
 washed and purged awaye 
 Ye poysons and ye rheums of earth to make a 
 
 merrie May, 
 Ye shraddy boscage of ye woods ben full of birds 
 
 that syng 
 
 Right merrilie a madrigal unto ye waking spring, 
 Ye whiles that when ye face of earth ben washed 
 
 and wiped ycleane 
 Her peeping posies blink and stare like they had 
 
 ben her een; 
 Then, wit ye well, ye harte of man ben turned to 
 
 thoughts of love, 
 And, tho it ben a lyon erst, it now ben like a 
 
 dove ! 
 
 And many a goodly damosel in innocence beguiles 
 Her owne trewe love with sweet discourse and 
 
 divers plaisaunt wiles. 
 In soche a time ye noblesse liege that ben Kyng 
 
 Arthure hight 
 
134 A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAMELOT. 
 
 Let cry a joust and tournament for evereche errant 
 knyght, 
 
 And, lo ! from distant Joyous-garde and eche adja 
 cent spot 
 
 A company of noblesse lords fared unto Camelot, 
 
 Wherein were mighty f eastings and passing merrie 
 cheere, 
 
 And eke a deale of dismal dole, as you shall quickly 
 heare. 
 
 It so befell upon a daye when jousts ben had and 
 
 while 
 Sir Launcelot did ramp around ye ring in gallaunt 
 
 style, 
 There came an horseman shriking sore and rashing 
 
 wildly home, 
 A mediaeval horseman with ye usual flecks of 
 
 foame; 
 And he did brast into ye ring, wherein his horse did 
 
 drop, 
 Upon ye which ye rider did with like abruptness 
 
 stop, 
 And with fatigue and tearfulness continued in a 
 
 swound 
 Ye space of half an hour or more before a leech 
 
 was founde. 
 
A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAME LOT. 135 
 
 " Now tell me straight," quod Launcelot, " what 
 
 varlet knyght you be, 
 Ere that I chine you with my sworde and cleave 
 
 your harte in three ! " 
 
 Then rolled that knyght his bloudy een, and an 
 swered with a groane, 
 " By worthy God that hath me made and shope ye 
 
 sun and mone, 
 There fareth hence an evil thing whose like ben 
 
 never scene, 
 And tho he sayeth nony worde, he bodethe ill, I 
 
 ween. 
 So take your parting, evereche one, and gird you 
 
 for ye fraye, 
 By all that s pure, ye Divell sure doth trend his 
 
 path this way ! " 
 Ye which he quoth and fell again into a deadly 
 
 swound, 
 And on that spot, perchance (God wot), his bones 
 
 mought yet be founde. 
 
 Then evereche knight girt on his sworde and shield 
 
 and hied him straight 
 To meet ye straunger sarasen hard by ye city 
 
 gate; 
 
136 A PROPER TREH E IDYLL OF CAMELOT. 
 
 Full sorely moaned ye damoseis and tore their beau- 
 tyse haire 
 
 For that they feared an hippogriff wolde come to 
 eate them there ; 
 
 But as they moaned and swounded there too numer 
 ous to relate, 
 
 Kyng Arthure and Sir Launcelot stode at ye city 
 gate, 
 
 And at eche side and round about stode many a 
 noblesse knyght 
 
 With helm and speare and sworde and shield and 
 mickle valor dight. 
 
 Anon there came a straunger, but not a gyaunt grim, 
 Nor yet a draggon, but a person gangling, long, 
 
 and slim ; 
 Yclad he was in guise that ill-beseemed those knygtly 
 
 days, 
 
 And there ben nony etiquette in his uplandish ways ; 
 His raiment was of dusty gray, and perched above 
 
 his lugs 
 There ben the very latest style of blacke and shiny 
 
 pluggs ; 
 His nose ben like a vulture beake, his blie ben swart 
 
 of hue, 
 
A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAME LOT. 137 
 
 And curly ben ye whiskers through ye which ye 
 
 zephyrs blewe ; 
 
 Of all ye een that ben yseene in countries far or nigh, 
 None nonywhere colde hold compare unto that 
 
 straunger s eye; 
 It was an eye of soche a kind as never ben on 
 
 sleepe, 
 Nor did it gleam with kindly beanie, nor did not 
 
 use to weepe ; 
 But soche an eye ye widdow hath, an hongrey eye 
 
 and wan, 
 That spyeth for an oder chaunce whereby she may 
 
 catch on ; 
 An eye that winketh of itself, and sayeth by that 
 
 winke 
 Ye which a maiden sholde not knowe nor never even 
 
 thinke ; 
 Which winke ben more exceeding swift nor human 
 
 thought ben thunk, 
 And leaveth doubting if so be that winke ben really 
 
 wunke ; 
 And soch an eye ye catte-fysshe hath when that he 
 
 ben on dead 
 And boyled a goodly time and served with capers 
 
 on his head; 
 
I3 8 A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAME LOT, 
 
 A rayless eye, a bead-like eye, whose famisht aspect 
 
 shows 
 It hungereth for ye verdant banks whereon ye wild 
 
 time grows ; 
 An eye that hawketh up and down for evereche kind 
 
 of game, 
 And, when he doth espy ye which, he tumbleth to 
 
 ye same. 
 
 Now when he kenned Sir Launcelot in armor clad, 
 
 he quod, 
 "Another put-a-nickel-in-and-see-me-work, be 
 
 god ! " 
 But when that he was ware a man ben standing in 
 
 that suit, 
 Ye straunger threw up both his hands, and asked 
 
 him not to shoote. 
 
 Then spake Kyng Arthure : " If soe be you mind to 
 
 do no ill, 
 Come, enter into Camelot, and eat and drink your 
 
 fill; 
 But say me first what you are hight, and what 
 
 mought be your quest. 
 
A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAMELOT. 139 
 
 Ye straunger quod, " I m five feet ten, and fare me 
 
 from ye West ! " 
 " Sir Fivefeetten," Kyng Arthure said, " I bid you 
 
 welcome here ; 
 So make you merrie as you list with plaisaunt wine 
 
 and cheere ; 
 This very night shall be a feast soche like ben never 
 
 scene, 
 And you shall be ye honored guest of Arthure and 
 
 his queene. 
 Now take him, good sir Maligraunce, and entertain 
 
 him well 
 Until soche time as he becomes our guest, as I you 
 
 tell." 
 
 That night Kyng Arthure s table round with mighty 
 
 care ben spread, 
 Ye oder knyghts sate all about, and Arthure at ye 
 
 heade : 
 
 Oh, twas a goodly spectacle token that noblesse liege 
 Dispensing hospitality from his commanding siege ! 
 Ye pheasant and ye meate of boare, ye haunch of 
 
 velvet doe, 
 Ye canvass hamme he them did serve, and many 
 
 good things moe. 
 
A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAMELOT. 
 
 Until at last Kyng Arthure cried : " Let bring my 
 wassail cup, 
 
 And let ye sound of joy go round, I m going to 
 set em up ! 
 
 I Ve pipes of Malmsey, May-wine, sack, metheglon, 
 mead, and sherry, 
 
 Canary, Malvoisie, and Port, swete Muscadelle and 
 perry ; 
 
 Rochelle, Osey, and Romenay, Tyre, Rhenish, pos 
 set too, 
 
 With kags and pails of foaming ales of brown Octo 
 ber brew. 
 
 To wine and beer and other cheere I pray you now 
 despatch ye, 
 
 And for ensample, wit ye well, sweet sirs, I m look 
 ing at ye ! " 
 
 Unto which toast of their liege lord ye oders in ye 
 
 party 
 Did lout them low in humble wise and bid ye same 
 
 drink hearty. 
 So then ben merrisome discourse and passing 
 
 plaisaunt cheere, 
 And Arthure s tales of hippogriffs ben mervaillous 
 
 to heare; 
 
A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAME LOT. 14! 
 
 But stranger far than any tale told of those knyghts 
 
 of old 
 Ben those facetious narratives ye Western straunger 
 
 told. 
 He told them of a country many leagues beyond ye 
 
 sea 
 
 Where evereche forraine nuisance but ye Chinese 
 
 man ben free, 
 And whiles he span his monstrous yarns, ye ladies 
 
 of ye court 
 Did deem ye listening thereunto to be right plais- 
 
 aunt sport; 
 And whiles they listened, often he did squeeze a 
 
 lily hande, 
 Ye which proceeding ne er before ben done in 
 
 Arthure s lande; 
 And often wank a sidelong wink with either roving 
 
 eye, 
 Whereat ye ladies laughen so that they had like to 
 
 die. 
 But of ye damosels that sat around Kyng Arthure s 
 
 table 
 He liked not her that sometime ben ron over by ye 
 
 cable, 
 
142 A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAME LOT. 
 
 Ye which full evil hap had harmed and marked her 
 
 person so 
 That in a passing wittie jest he dubbeth her ye crow. 
 
 But all ye oders of ye girls did please him passing 
 
 well 
 And they did own him for to be a proper seeming 
 
 swell ; 
 And in especial Gurnevere esteemed him wondrous 
 
 faire, 
 Which had made Arthure and his friend, Sir 
 
 Launcelot, to sware 
 But that they both ben so far gone with posset, 
 
 wine, and beer, 
 They colde not see ye carrying-on, nor neither 
 
 colde not heare ; 
 For of eche liquor Arthure quafft, and so did all 
 
 ye rest, 
 Save only and excepting that smooth straunger 
 
 from the West. 
 When as these oders drank a toast, he let them 
 
 have their fun 
 With divers godless mixings, but he stock to 
 
 willow run, 
 
A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAMELOT. 143 
 
 Ye which (and all that reade these words sholde 
 profit by ye warning) 
 
 Doth never make ye head to feel like it ben 
 swelled next morning. 
 
 Now, wit ye well, it so befell that when the night 
 grew dim, 
 
 Ye Kyng was carried from ye hall with a howl 
 ing jag on him, 
 
 Whiles Launcelot and all ye rest that to his 
 highness toadied 
 
 Withdrew them from ye banquet hall and sought 
 their couches loaded. 
 
 Now, lithe and listen, lordings all, whiles I do 
 
 call it shame 
 That, making cheer with wine and beer, men do 
 
 abuse ye same ; 
 Though eche be well enow alone, ye mixing of 
 
 ye two 
 
 Ben soche a piece of foolishness as only ejiots do. 
 Ye wine is plaisaunt bibbing whenas ye gentles dine, 
 And beer will do if one hath not ye wherewithal 
 
 for wine, 
 But in ye drinking of ye same ye wise are never 
 
 floored 
 
144 A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAMELOT. 
 
 By taking what ye tipplers call too big a jag on 
 
 board. 
 Right hejeous is it for to see soche dronkonness 
 
 of wine 
 Whereby some men are use to make themselves 
 
 to be like swine ; 
 And sorely it repenteth them, for when they wake 
 
 next day 
 Ye fearful paynes they suffer ben soche as none 
 
 mought say, 
 And soche ye brenning in ye throat and brasting 
 
 of ye head 
 And soche ye taste within ye mouth like one 
 
 had been on dead, 
 Soche be ye foul condicions that these unhappy 
 
 men 
 Sware they will never drink no drop of nony 
 
 drinke again. 
 Yet all so frail and vain a thing and weak 
 
 withal is man 
 That he goeth on an oder tear whenever that he 
 
 can. 
 And like ye evil quatern or ye hills that skirt 
 
 ye skies, 
 Ye jag is reproductive and jags on jags arise. 
 
A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAME LOT. 145 
 
 Whenas Aurora from ye east in dewy splendor 
 
 hied 
 King Arthure dreemed he saw a snaix and ben 
 
 on fire inside, 
 And waking from this hejeous dreeme he sate 
 
 him up in bed, 
 " What, ho ! an absynthe cocktail, knave ! and 
 
 make it strong ! " he said ; 
 Then, looking down beside him, lo ! his lady was 
 
 not there 
 He called, he searched, but, Goddis wounds ! he 
 
 found her nony where; 
 And whiles he searched, Sir Maligraunce rashed 
 
 in, wood wroth, and cried, 
 " Methinketh that ye straunger knyght hath snuck 
 
 away my bride ! 
 And whiles he spake a motley score of other 
 
 knyghts brast in 
 
 And filled ye royall chamber with a mickle fear- 
 full din, 
 For evereche one had lost his wiffe nor colde 
 
 not spye ye same, 
 Nor colde not spye ye straunger knyght, Sir 
 
 Fivefeetten of name. 
 10 
 
14 A PROPER TREWE IDYLL OF CAME LOT. 
 
 Oh, then and there was grevious lamentacion all 
 
 arounde, 
 For nony dame nor damosel in Camelot ben 
 
 found, 
 Gone, like ye forest leaves that speed afore ye 
 
 autumn wind. 
 Of all ye ladies of that court not one ben left 
 
 behind 
 Save only that same damosel ye straunger called 
 
 ye crow, 
 And she allowed with moche regret she ben too 
 
 lame to go ; 
 And when that she had wept full sore, to Arthure 
 
 she confess d 
 That Guernevere had left this word for Arthure 
 
 and ye rest: 
 "Tell them," she quod, "we shall return to them 
 
 whenas we ve made 
 This little deal we have with ye Chicago Bourde 
 
 of Trade." 
 
BERANGEK S " MA VOCA TION." I 4 7 
 
 BfiRANGER S "MA VOCATION." 
 
 A/TISERY is my lot, 
 
 Poverty and pain ; 
 111 was I begot, 
 
 111 must I remain ; 
 Yet the wretched days 
 
 One sweet comfort bring, 
 When God whispering says, 
 
 " Sing, O singer, sing ! " 
 
 Chariots rumble by, 
 
 Splashing me with mud ; 
 Insolence see I 
 
 Fawn to royal blood ; 
 Solace have I then 
 
 From each galling sting 
 In that voice again, 
 
 " Sing. O singer, sing ! " 
 
148 BERANGER S "MA VOCATION." 
 
 Cowardly at heart, 
 
 I am forced to play 
 A degraded part 
 
 For its paltry pay ; 
 Freedom is a prize 
 
 For no starving thing \ 
 Yet that small voice cries, 
 
 " Sing, O singer, sing ! " 
 
 I was young, but now, 
 
 When I m old and gray, 
 Love I know not how 
 
 Or why hath sped away ; 
 Still, in winter days 
 
 As in hours of spring, 
 Still a whisper says, 
 
 " Sing, O singer, sing ! " 
 
 Ah, too well I know 
 
 Song s my only friend ! 
 Patiently I 11 go 
 
 Singing to the end ; 
 Comrades, to your wine ! 
 
 Let your glasses ring ! 
 Lo, that voice divine 
 
 Whispers, "Sing, oh, sing!" 
 
CHILD AND MOTHER. 149 
 
 CHILD AND MOTHER. 
 
 MOTHER-MY-LOVE, if you 11 give me 
 
 your hand, 
 And go where I ask you to wander, 
 I will lead you away to a beautiful land, 
 
 The Dreamland that s waiting out yonder. 
 We 11 walk in a sweet posie-garden out there, 
 
 Where moonlight and starlight are streaming, 
 And the flowers and the birds are filling the air 
 With the fragrance and music of dreaming. 
 
 There 11 be no little tired-out boy to undress, 
 
 No questions or cares to perplex you, 
 There 11 be no little bruises or bumps to caress, 
 
 Nor patching of stockings to vex you ; 
 For I 11 rock you away on a silver-dew stream 
 
 And sing you asleep when you re weary, 
 And no one shall know of our beautiful dream 
 
 But you and your own little dearie. 
 
I5O CHILD AND MOTHER. 
 
 And when I am tired I 11 nestle my head 
 
 In the bosom that s soothed me so often, 
 And the wide-awake stars shall sing, in my stead, 
 
 A song which our dreaming shall soften. 
 So, Mother-my-Love, let me take your dear hand, 
 
 And away through the starlight we 11 wander, 
 Away through the mist to the beautiful land, 
 
 The Dreamland that s waiting out yonder. 
 
THE CONVERSAZZHYONY. 
 
 THE CONVERSAZZHYONY. 
 
 "\ T THAT conversazzhyonies wuz I really did not 
 
 * know, 
 For that, you must remember, wuz a powerful spell 
 
 ago; 
 
 The camp wuz new nd noisy, nd only modrit sized, 
 So fashionable sossiety wuz hardly crystallized. 
 There had n t been no grand events to interest the 
 
 men, 
 But a lynchin , or a inquest, or a jackpot now an 
 
 then. 
 The wimmin-folks wuz mighty scarce, for wimmin , 
 
 ez a rool, 
 Don t go to Colorado much, excep for teachin 
 
 school, 
 
 An bein scarce an chipper and pretty (like as not), 
 The bachelors perpose, nd air accepted on the 
 
 spot. 
 
152 THE CONVERSAZZHYONY. 
 
 Now Sorry Tom wuz owner uv the Gosh-all-H em- 
 lock mine, 
 The wich allowed his better haff to dress all-fired 
 
 fine ; 
 For Sorry Tom wuz mighty proud uv her, an she 
 
 uv him, 
 Though she wuz short an tacky, an he wuz tall an 
 
 slim, 
 
 An she wuz edjicated, an Sorry Tom wuz not, 
 Yet, for her sake, he d whack up every cussid cent 
 
 he d got ! 
 
 Waal, jest by way uv celebratin matrimonial joys, 
 She thought she d give a conversazzhyony to the 
 
 boys, 
 
 A peert an likely lady, nd ez full uv cute idees 
 Nd uv etiquettish notions ez a fyste is full uv 
 
 fleas. 
 
 Three-fingered Hoover kind uv kicked, an said 
 
 they might be durned 
 
 So fur ez any conversazzhyony wuz concerned ; 
 He *d come to Red Hoss Mountain to tunnel for 
 
 the ore, 
 An not to go to parties, quite another kind uv 
 
 bore ! 
 
THg CQNVERSAZZHYONY. 153 
 
 But, bein he wuz candidate for marshal uv the 
 
 camp, 
 I rayther had the upper halts in arguin with the 
 
 scamp ; 
 Sez I, "Three-fingered Hoover, can t ye see it is 
 
 yer game 
 To go for all the votes ye kin an collar uy the 
 
 same ? " 
 The wich perceivin , Hoover sez, " Waal, ef I must, 
 
 I must j 
 So I 11 frequent that conversazzhyony, ef I 
 
 bust!" 
 
 Three-fingered Hoover wuz a trump ! Ez fine a 
 
 man wuz he 
 Ez ever caused an inquest or blossomed on a 
 
 tree! 
 A big, broad man, whose face bespoke a honest 
 
 heart within, 
 With a bunch uv yaller whiskers appertainin to 
 
 his chin, 
 Nd a fierce mustache turnt up so fur that both his 
 
 ears wuz hid, 
 Like the picture that you always see in the " Life 
 
 uv Cap n Kidd." 
 
154 THE CONVERSAZZHYONY. 
 
 His hair wuz long an wavy an fine ez Southdown 
 
 fleece, 
 Oh, it shone an smelt like Eden when he slicked 
 
 it down with grease ! 
 I 11 bet there wuz n t anywhere a man, all round, ez 
 
 fine 
 Ez wuz Three-fingered Hoover in the spring uv 69 ! 
 
 The conversazzhyony wuz a notable affair, 
 
 The bong tong deckolett nd en regaly bein there-, 
 
 The ranch where Sorry Tom hung out wuz fitted 
 
 up immense, 
 
 The Denver papers called it a "palashal resi 
 dence." 
 There wuz mountain pines an fern an flowers 
 
 a-hangin on the walls, 
 An cheers an hoss-hair sofies wuz a-settin in the 
 
 halls ; 
 An there wuz heaps uv pictures uv folks that lived 
 
 down East, 
 Sech ez poets an perfessers, an last, but not the 
 
 least, 
 Wuz a chromo uv old Fremont, we liked that 
 
 best, you bet, 
 For there s lots uv us old miners that is votin for 
 
 him yet ! 
 
THE CONVERSAZZHYONY. 155 
 
 When Sorry Tom received the gang perlitely at the 
 
 door, 
 He said that keerds would be allowed upon the 
 
 second floor ; 
 And then he asked us would we like a drop uv ody 
 
 vee. 
 Connivin at his meanin , we responded promptly, 
 
 " Wee." 
 A conversazzhyony is a thing where people 
 
 speak 
 The langwidge in the which they air partickulerly 
 
 weak : 
 " I see," sez Sorry Tom, " you grasp what that ere 
 
 lingo means." 
 " You bet yer boots," sez Hoover ; " I Ve lived at 
 
 Noo Orleens, 
 An , though I aint no Frenchie, nor kin unto the 
 
 same, 
 I kin parly voo, an git there, too, like Eli, toot lee 
 
 mame ! " 
 
 As speakin French wuz not my forte, not even 
 
 oovry poo, 
 I stuck to keerds ez played by them ez did not 
 
 parly voo, 
 
156 THE CONVERSAZZHYONY. 
 
 An bein how that poker wuz my most perficient 
 
 game, 
 
 I poneyed up for 20 blues an set into the same. 
 Three-fingered Hoover stayed behind an parly- 
 
 vood so well 
 That all the kramy delly krame allowed he wuz 
 
 the belle. 
 The other candidate for marshal did n t have a 
 
 show ; 
 For, while Three-fingered Hoover parlyed, ez they 
 
 said, tray bow, 
 Bill Goslin did n t know enough uv French to git 
 
 along, 
 Nd I reckon that he had what folks might call a 
 
 movy tong. 
 
 From Denver they had freighted up a real pianny- 
 
 fort 
 Uv the warty-leg and pearl-around-the-keys-an - 
 
 kivver sort, 
 
 An , later in the evenin , Perfesser Vere de Blaw 
 Performed on that pianny, with considerble eclaw, 
 Sech high-toned opry airs ez one is apt to hear, 
 
 you know, 
 When he rounds up down to Denver at a Emmy 
 
 Abbitt show; 
 
THE CONVERSAZZHYONY. 157 
 
 An Barber Jim (a talented but ornery galoot) 
 Discoursed a obligatter, conny mory, on the floot, 
 Til we, ez sot upstairs indulgin in a quiet game, 
 Conveyed to Barber Jim our wish to compromise 
 the same. 
 
 The maynoo that wuz spread that night wuz mighty 
 
 hard to beat, 
 Though somewhat awkward to pernounce, it wuz 
 
 not so to eat : 
 There wuz puddins, pies, an sandwidges, an forty 
 
 kinds uv sass, 
 An floatin Irelands, custards, tarts, an patty dee 
 
 foy grass ; 
 An millions uv cove oysters wuz a-settin round in 
 
 pans, 
 Nd other native fruits an things that grow out 
 
 West in cans. 
 But I wuz all kufflummuxed when Hoover said 
 
 he d choose 
 
 " Oon peety morso, see voo play, de la cette Char 
 lotte Rooze ; " 
 I d knowed Three-fingered Hoover for fifteen years 
 
 or more, 
 Nd I d never heern him speak so light uv wimmin 
 
 folks before ! 
 
158 THE CONVERSAZZHYONY. 
 
 Bill Goslin heern him say it, nd uv course he 
 spread the news 
 
 Uv how Three-fingered Hoover had insulted Char 
 lotte Rooze 
 
 At the conversazzhyony down at Sorry Tom s that 
 night, 
 
 An when they asked me, I allowed that Bill for 
 once wuz right; 
 
 Although it broke my heart to see my friend go 
 up the fluke, 
 
 We all opined his treatment uv the girl deserved 
 rebuke. 
 
 It warnt no use for Sorry Tom to nail it for a 
 
 lie, 
 When it come to sassin wimmin, there wuz blood 
 
 in every eye ; 
 The boom for Charlotte Rooze swep on an took 
 
 the polls by storm, 
 An so Three -fingered Hoover fell a martyr to 
 
 reform ! 
 
 Three-fingered Hoover said it wuz a terrible mis 
 take, 
 
 An when the votes wuz in, he cried ez if his heart 
 would break. 
 
THE CONVERSAZZHYONY. 159 
 
 We never knew who Charlotte wuz, but Goslin s 
 
 brother Dick 
 Allowed she wuz the teacher from the camp on 
 
 Roarin Crick, 
 That had come to pass some foreign tongue with 
 
 them uv our alite 
 Ez wuz at the high-toned party down at Sorry 
 
 Tom s that night. 
 We let it drop this matter uv the lady there 
 
 an then, 
 An we never heerd, nor wanted to, of Charlotte 
 
 Rooze again, 
 An the Colorado wimmin-folks, ez like ez not, 
 
 don t know 
 How we vindicated all their sex a twenty year 
 
 ago. 
 
 For in these wondrous twenty years has come a 
 
 mighty change, 
 An most uv them old pioneers have gone acrosst 
 
 the range, 
 Way out into the silver land beyond the peaks uv 
 
 snow, 
 The land uv rest an sunshine, where all good 
 
 miners go. 
 
160 THE CONYERSAZZHYONY. 
 
 I reckon that they love to look, from out the silver 
 
 haze, 
 Upon that God s own country where they spent 
 
 sech happy days ; 
 Upon the noble cities that have risen since they 
 
 went ; 
 Upon the camps an ranches that are prosperous 
 
 an content ; 
 An , best uv all, upon those hills that reach into 
 
 the air, 
 Ez if to clasp the loved ones that are waitin over 
 
 there. 
 
PROF. VERB DE BLAlf. l6l 
 
 PROF. VERE DE BLAW. 
 
 A CHIEVIN sech distinction with his moddel 
 
 tabble dote 
 Ez to make his Red Hoss Mountain restauraw a 
 
 place uv note, 
 Our old friend Casey innovated somewhat round 
 
 the place, 
 In hopes he would ameliorate the sufferins uv the 
 
 race; 
 
 Nd uv the many features Casey managed to im 
 port 
 The most important wuz a Steenway gran pianny- 
 
 fort, 
 An bein there wuz nobody could play upon the 
 
 same, 
 He telegraffed to Denver, nd a real perfesser 
 
 came, 
 
 ii 
 
1 62 PROF. VERE DE BLAW. 
 
 The last an crownin glory uv the Casey res- 
 
 tauraw 
 Wuz that tenderfoot musicianer, Perfesser Vere de 
 
 Blaw! 
 
 His hair wuz long an dishybill, an he had a yaller 
 
 skin, 
 An the absence uv a collar made his neck look 
 
 powerful thin : 
 
 A sorry man he wuz to see, az mebby you d sur 
 mise, 
 But the fire uv inspiration wuz a-blazin in his 
 
 eyes ! 
 His name wuz Blanc, wich same is Blaw (for that s 
 
 what Casey said, 
 An Casey passed the French ez well ez any 
 
 Frenchie bred); 
 But no one ever reckoned that it really wuz his 
 
 name, 
 An no one ever asked him how or why or whence 
 
 he came, 
 Your ancient history is a thing the Coloradan 
 
 hates, 
 An no one asks another what his name wuz in the 
 
 States ! 
 
PROF. VERE DE BLAW. 163 
 
 At evenin , when the work wuz done, an the miners 
 
 rounded up 
 At Casey s, to indulge in keerds or linger with the 
 
 cup, 
 Or dally with the tabble dote in all its native 
 
 glory, 
 
 Perfesser Vere de Blaw discoursed his music reper 
 tory 
 Upon the Steenway gran piannyfort, the wich wuz 
 
 sot 
 In the hallway near the kitchen (a warm but quiet 
 
 spot), 
 An when De Blaw s environments induced the 
 
 proper pride, 
 Wich gen rally wuz whiskey straight, with seltzer 
 
 on the side, 
 He throwed his soulful bein into opry airs nd 
 
 things 
 Wich bounded to the ceilin like he d mesmerized 
 
 the strings. 
 
 Oh, you that live in cities where the gran piannies 
 
 grow, 
 An* primy donnies round up, it s little that you 
 
 know 
 
164 PROF. VERB DE BLAW. 
 
 Uv the hungerin an the yearnin wich us miners 
 
 an the rest 
 Feel for the songs we used to hear before we 
 
 moved out West. 
 Yes, memory is a pleasant thing, but it weakens 
 
 mighty quick ; 
 
 It kind uv dries an withers, like the windin moun 
 tain crick, 
 That, beautiful, an singin songs, goes dancin to 
 
 the plains, 
 So long ez it is fed by snows an watered by the 
 
 rains ; 
 But, uv that grace uv luvin rains nd mountain 
 
 snows bereft, 
 Its bleachin rocks, like dummy ghosts, is all its 
 
 memory left. 
 
 The toons wich the perfesser would perform with 
 
 sech eclaw 
 Would melt the toughest mountain gentleman I 
 
 ever saw, 
 Sech touchin opry music ez the Trovytory 
 
 sort, 
 The sollum " Mizer Reery," an the thrillin " Keely 
 
 Mort ; " 
 
PROF. VERB DE BLAW. 165 
 
 Or, sometimes, from " Lee Grond Dooshess " a 
 trifle he would play, 
 
 Or morsoze from a opry boof, to drive dull care 
 away ; 
 
 Or, feelin kind uv serious, he d discourse some 
 what in C, 
 
 The wich he called a opus (whatever that may 
 be); 
 
 But the toons that fetched the likker from the 
 critics in the crowd 
 
 Wuz not the high-toned ones, Perfesser Vere de 
 Blaw allowed. 
 
 Twuz "Dearest May," an "Bonnie Boon," an 
 
 the ballard uv "Ben Bolt," 
 Ez wuz regarded by all odds ez Vere de Blaw s 
 
 best holt; 
 Then there wuz " Darlin Nellie Gray," an " Settin 
 
 on the Stile," 
 An " Seein Nellie Home," an " Nancy Lee," nd 
 
 "Annie Lisle," 
 An " Silver Threads among the Gold," an " The 
 
 Gal that Winked at Me," 
 An " Gentle Annie," " Nancy Till," an " The Cot 
 
 beside the Sea." 
 
1 66 PROF. VERE DE BLAH*. 
 
 Your opry airs is good enough for them ez likes 
 
 to pay 
 Their money for the truck ez can t be got no other 
 
 way ; 
 
 But opry to a miner is a thin an holler thing, 
 The music that he pines for is the songs he used 
 
 to sing. 
 
 One evenin down at Casey s De Blaw wuz at his 
 best, 
 
 With four-fingers uv old Wilier-run concealed be 
 neath his vest; 
 
 The boys wuz settin all around, discussin folks 
 an things, 
 
 Nd I had drawed the necessary keerds to fill on 
 kings ; 
 
 Three-fingered Hoover kind uv leaned acrosst the 
 bar to say 
 
 If Casey d liquidate right off, he "*d liquidate next 
 day; 
 
 A sperrit uv contentment wuz a-broodin all around 
 
 (Onlike the other sperrits wich in restauraws 
 abound), 
 
 When, suddenly, we heerd from yonder kitchen- 
 entry rise 
 
PROF, VERB DE BLAW. 167 
 
 A toon each ornery galoot appeared to recognize. 
 Perfesser Vere de Blaw for once eschewed his 
 
 opry ways, 
 An the remnants uv his mind went back to earlier, 
 
 happier days, 
 An grappled like an wrassled with a old familiar 
 
 air 
 The wich we all uv us had heern, ez you have, 
 
 everywhere ! 
 Stock still we stopped, some in their talk uv 
 
 politics an things, 
 
 I in my unobtrusive attempt to fill on kings, 
 Nd Hoover leanin on the bar, an Casey at the 
 
 till, 
 We all stopped short an held our breaths (ez a 
 
 feller sometimes will), 
 An sot there more like bumps on logs than healthy, 
 
 husky men, 
 Ez the memories uv that old, old toon come sneakin 7 
 
 back again. 
 
 You ve guessed it? No, you have n t; for it wuzn t 
 that there song 
 
 Uv the home we d been away from an* had hank 
 ered for so long, 
 
1 68 PROF. VERB DE BLAW. 
 
 No, sir ; it wuz n t " Home, Sweet Home," though 
 
 it s always heard around 
 Sech neighborhoods in wich the home that is "sweet 
 
 home " is found. 
 And, ez for me, I seemed to see the past come back 
 
 again, 
 
 And hear the deep-drawed sigh my sister Lucy ut 
 tered when 
 Her mother asked her if she d practised her two 
 
 hours that day, 
 Wich, if she had n t, she must go an do it right 
 
 away ! 
 The homestead in the States nd all its memories 
 
 seemed to come 
 A-floatin round about me with that magic lumty- 
 
 tum. 
 
 And then uprose a stranger wich had struck the 
 
 camp that night; 
 His eyes wuz sot an fireless, nd his face wuz spook- 
 
 ish white, 
 Nd he sez : " Oh, how I suffer there is nobody kin 
 
 say, 
 Onless, like me, he s wrenched himself from home 
 
 an friends away 
 
PROF. VERE DE BLAW. 169 
 
 To seek surcease from sorrer in a fur, seclooded 
 
 spot, 
 Only to find alars, too late ! the wich surcease 
 
 is not ! 
 Only to find that there air things that, somehow, 
 
 seem to live 
 For nothin in the world but jest the misery they 
 
 give! 
 I ve travelled eighteen hundred miles, but that toon 
 
 has got here first ; 
 I m done, I m blowed, I welcome death, an 
 
 bid it do its worst ! " 
 
 Then, like a man whose mind wuz sot on yieldin 
 to his fate, 
 
 He waltzed up to the counter an demanded whis 
 key straight, 
 
 Wich havin got outside uv, both the likker and 
 the door, 
 
 We never seen that stranger in the bloom uv health 
 no more ! 
 
 But some months later, what the birds had left uv 
 him wuz found 
 
 Associated with a tree, some distance from the 
 ground ; 
 
17 PROF. VERE DE BLAW. 
 
 And Husky Sam, the coroner, that set upon him, 
 
 said 
 That two things wuz apparent, namely : first, de- 
 
 ceast wuz dead ; 
 And, second, previously had got involved beyond 
 
 all hope 
 In a knotty complication with a yard or two uv 
 
MEDIAEVAL EVENTIDE SONG. 
 
 MEDIAEVAL EVENTIDE SONG. 
 
 hither, lyttel childe, and lie upon my 
 
 breast to-night, 
 For yonder fares an angell yclad in raimaunt 
 
 white, 
 
 And yonder sings ye angell as onely angells may, 
 And his songe ben of a garden that bloometh 
 
 farre awaye. 
 
 To them that have no lyttel childe Godde some 
 
 times sendeth down 
 
 A lyttel childe that ben a lyttel lambkyn of his owne ; 
 And if so bee they love that childe, He willeth it 
 
 to staye, 
 But elsewise, in His mercie He taketh it awaye. 
 
 And sometimes, though they love it, Godde yearn- 
 
 eth for ye childe, 
 And sendeth angells singing, whereby it ben be 
 
 guiled ; 
 
 i 
 
I7 2 MEDIEVAL EVENTIDE SONG. 
 
 They fold their arms about ye lamb that croodleth 
 
 at his play, 
 And beare him to ye garden that bloometh farre 
 
 awaye. 
 
 I wolde not lose ye lyttel lamb that Godde hath 
 
 lent to me ; 
 If I colde sing that angell songe, how joysome I 
 
 sholde bee ! 
 For, with mine arms about him, and my musick in 
 
 his eare, 
 What angell songe of paradize soever sholde I 
 
 f eare ? 
 
 Soe come, my lyttel childe, and lie upon my breast 
 
 to-night, 
 
 For yonder fares an angell yclad in raimaunt white, 
 And yonder sings that angell, as onely angells may, 
 And his songe ben of a garden that bloometh farre 
 
 awaye. 
 
MARTHY S YOUNKIT. 173 
 
 MARTHY S YOUNKIT. 
 
 f ~T*HE mountain brook sung lonesomelike, and 
 
 loitered on its way 
 
 Ez if it waited for a child to jine it in its play ; 
 The wild-flowers uv the hillside bent down their 
 
 heads to hear 
 The music uv the little feet that had somehow 
 
 grown so dear ; 
 The magpies, like winged shadders, wuz a-flutterin 
 
 to an fro 
 Among the rocks an holler stumps in the ragged 
 
 gulch below; 
 The pines an hemlocks tosst their boughs (like 
 
 they wuz arms) and made 
 Soft, sollum music on the slope where he had 
 
 often played ; 
 
 But for these lonesome, sollum voices on the moun 
 tain-side, 
 There wuz no sound the summer day that Marthy s 
 
 younkit died. 
 
174 MARTHAS YOUNKIT. 
 
 We called him Marthy s younkit, for Marthy wuz 
 
 the name 
 Uv her ez wuz his mar, the wife uv Sorry Tom, 
 
 the same 
 Ez taught the school-house on the hill, way back 
 
 in 69, 
 When she marr d Sorry Tom, wich owned the 
 
 Gosh-all-Hemlock mine ! 
 And Marthy s younkit wuz their first, wich, bein 
 
 how it meant 
 The first on Red Hoss Mountain, wuz truly a 
 
 event ! 
 The miners sawed off short on work ez soon ez 
 
 they got word 
 That Dock Devine allowed to Casey what had 
 
 just occurred ; 
 We loaded up an whooped around until we all 
 
 wuz hoarse 
 Salutin the arrival, wich weighed ten pounds, uv 
 
 course ! 
 
 Three years, and sech a pretty child ! his mother s 
 
 counterpart ! 
 Three years, and sech a holt ez he had got on every 
 
 heart ! 
 
MARTHY S YOUNKIT. 175 
 
 A peert an likely little tyke with hair ez red ez 
 
 gold, 
 A laughin , toddlin everywhere, nd only three 
 
 years old ! 
 Up yonder, sometimes, to the store, an sometimes 
 
 down the hill 
 He kited (boys is boys, you know, you could n t 
 
 keep him still !) 
 An there he d play beside the brook where purpul 
 
 wild-flowers grew, 
 An the mountain pines an hemlocks a kindly shad- 
 
 der threw, 
 An sung soft, sollum toons to him, while in the 
 
 gulch below 
 The magpies, like strange sperrits, went flutterin 
 
 to an fro. 
 
 Three years, an then the fever come, it wuz n t 
 
 right, you know, 
 With all us old ones in the camp, for that little 
 
 child to go ; 
 It s right the old should die, but that a harmless 
 
 little child 
 Should miss the joy uv life an love, that can t 
 
 be reconciled! 
 
176 MARTHY^S YOU N KIT. 
 
 That s what we thought that summer day, an that 
 
 is what we said 
 Ez we looked upon the piteous face uv Marthy s 
 
 younkit dead. 
 But for his mother s sobbin , the house wuz very 
 
 still, 
 An Sorry Tom wuz lookin , through the winder, 
 
 down the hill, 
 To the patch beneath the hemlocks where his dar- 
 
 lin used to play, 
 An the mountain brook sung lonesomelike an 
 
 loitered on its way. 
 
 A preacher come from Roarin Crick to comfort 
 
 em an pray, 
 Nd all the camp wuz present at the obsequies 
 
 next day; 
 A female teacher staged it twenty miles to sing a 
 
 hymn, 
 An we jined her in the chorus, big, husky men 
 
 an grim 
 Sung "Jesus, Lover uv my Soul," an then the 
 
 preacher prayed, 
 An preacht a sermon on the death uv that fair 
 
 blossom laid 
 
MARTHY S YOU N KIT. 177 
 
 Among them other flowers he loved, wich ser 
 mon set sech weight 
 
 On sinners bein always heeled against the future 
 state, 
 
 That, though it had been fashionable to swear a 
 perfec streak, 
 
 There warnt no swearin in the camp for pretty 
 nigh a week ! 
 
 Last thing uv all, four strappin men took up the 
 
 little load 
 An bore it tenderly along the windin , rocky 
 
 road, 
 To where the coroner had dug a grave beside the 
 
 brook, 
 In sight uv Marthy s winder, where the same could 
 
 set an look 
 An wonder if his cradle in that green patch, long 
 
 an wide, 
 Wuz ez soothin ez the cradle that wuz empty at 
 
 her side ; 
 An wonder if the mournful songs the pines wuz 
 
 singin then 
 Wuz ez tender ez the lullabies she d never sing 
 
 again, 
 
 12 
 
178 MARTHVS YOU N KIT. 
 
 Nd if the bosom uv the earth in wich he lay at 
 
 rest 
 Wuz half ez lovin nd ez warm ez wuz his mother s 
 
 breast. 
 
 The camp is gone ; but Red Hoss Mountain rears 
 its kindly head, 
 
 An looks down, sort uv tenderly, upon its cher 
 ished dead ; 
 
 Nd I reckon that, through all the years, that little 
 boy wich died 
 
 Sleeps sweetly an contentedly upon the mountain 
 side ; 
 
 That the wild-flowers uv the summer-time bend 
 down their heads to hear 
 
 The footfall uv a little friend they know not slum 
 bers near; 
 
 That the magpies on the sollum rocks strange 
 flutterin shadders make, 
 
 An the pines an hemlocks wonder that the sleeper 
 does n t wake ; 
 
 That the mountain brook sings lonesomelike an 
 loiters on its way 
 
 Ez if it waited for a child to jine it in its play. 
 
IN FLANDERS. 179 
 
 IN FLANDERS. 
 
 "PH ROUGH sleet and fogs to the saline bogs 
 
 Where the herring fish meanders, 
 An army sped, and then, t is said, 
 
 Swore terribly in Flanders : 
 
 <( i 
 
 A hideous store of oaths they swore, 
 Did the army over in Flanders! 
 
 At this distant day we re unable to say 
 
 What so aroused their danders ; 
 But it s doubtless the case, to their lasting disgrace, 
 
 That the army swore in Flanders : 
 
 And many more such oaths they swore, 
 Did that impious horde in Flanders ! 
 
l8o IN FLANDERS. 
 
 Some folks contend that these oaths without end 
 
 Began among the commanders, 
 That, taking this cue, the subordinates, too, 
 
 Swore terribly in Flanders : 
 
 T W2 " I " 
 
 I VYdo " """* 
 
 il J > 
 
 Why, the air was blue with the hullaballoo 
 Of those wicked men in Flanders ! 
 
 But some suppose that the trouble arose 
 
 With a certain Corporal Sanders, 
 Who sought to abuse the wooden shoes 
 
 That the natives wore in Flanders. 
 
 Saying : " ! " 
 
 u I " 
 
 What marvel then, that the other men 
 Felt encouraged to swear in Flanders ! 
 
 At any rate, as I grieve to state, 
 
 Since these soldiers vented their danders 
 
 Conjectures obtain that for language profane 
 There is no such place as Flanders. 
 
 This is the kind of talk you 11 find 
 If ever you go to Flanders. 
 
IN FLANDERS. 
 
 How wretched is he, wherever he be, 
 
 That unto this habit panders ! 
 And how glad am I that my interests lie 
 
 In Chicago, and not in Flanders ! 
 
 it i ij 
 
 u 1 
 
 Would never go down in this circumspect town 
 However it might in Flanders. 
 
1 82 OUR BIGGEST FISH. 
 
 OUR BIGGEST FISH. 
 
 TT7HEN in the halcyon days of eld, I was a 
 
 * ^ little tyke, 
 I used to fish in pickerel ponds for minnows and 
 
 the like ; 
 And oh, the bitter sadness with which my soul 
 
 was fraught 
 When I rambled home at nightfall with the puny 
 
 string I d caught! 
 
 And, oh, the indignation and the valor I d display 
 When I claimed that all the biggest fish I d caught 
 
 had got away ! 
 
 Sometimes it was the rusty hooks, sometimes the 
 
 fragile lines, 
 And many times the treacherous reeds would foil 
 
 my just designs ; 
 But whether hooks or lines or reeds were actually 
 
 to blame 
 I kept right on at losing all the monsters just the 
 
 same 
 
O UR BIGGES T FISH. 183 
 
 I never lost a little fish yes, I am free to say 
 It always was the biggest fish I caught that got 
 away. 
 
 And so it was, when later on, I felt ambition 
 
 pass 
 From callow minnow joys to nobler greed for pike 
 
 and bass ; 
 I found it quite convenient, when the beauties 
 
 would n t bite 
 And I returned all bootless from the watery chase 
 
 at night, 
 To feign a cheery aspect and recount in accents 
 
 gay 
 
 How the biggest fish that I had caught had some 
 how got away. 
 
 And really, fish look bigger than they are before 
 they re caught 
 
 When the pole is bent into a bow and the slender 
 line is taut, 
 
 When a fellow feels his heart rise up like a dough 
 nut in his throat 
 
 And he lunges in a frenzy up and down the leaky 
 boat! 
 
184 OUR BIGGEST FISH. 
 
 Oh, you who ve been a-fishing will indorse me 
 
 when I say 
 That it always is the biggest fish you catch that 
 
 gets away ! 
 
 Tis even so in other things yes, in our greedy 
 
 eyes 
 The biggest boon is some elusive, never-captured 
 
 prize ; 
 We angle for the honors and the sweets of human 
 
 life- 
 Like fishermen we brave the seas that roll in end 
 less strife; 
 And then at last, when all is done and we are spent 
 
 and gray, 
 
 We own the biggest fish we ve caught are those 
 that got away. 
 
 I would not have it otherwise; tis better there 
 
 should be 
 Much bigger fish than I have caught a-swimming 
 
 in the sea ; 
 For now some worthier one than I may angle for 
 
 that game 
 
OUR BIGGEST FISH. 185 
 
 May by his arts entice, entrap, and comprehend 
 
 the same ; 
 Which, having done, perchance he ll bless the man 
 
 who s proud to say 
 That the biggest fish he ever caught were those 
 
 that got away. 
 
1 8 6 THIR TV-NINE. 
 
 THIRTY-NINE. 
 
 HAPLESS day! O wretched day! 
 I hoped you d pass me by 
 Alas, the years have sneaked away 
 
 And all is changed but I ! 
 Had I the power, I would remand 
 
 You to a gloom condign, 
 But here you Ve crept upon me and 
 I I am thirty-nine ! 
 
 Now, were I thirty-five, I could 
 
 Assume a flippant guise ; 
 Or, were I forty years, I should 
 
 Undoubtedly look wise ; 
 For forty years are said to bring 
 
 Sedateness superfine ; 
 But thirty-nine don t mean a thing 
 
 A has with thirty-nine ! 
 
THIRTY-NINE. 187 
 
 You healthy, hulking girls and boys, 
 
 What makes you grow so fast ? 
 Oh, I 11 survive your lusty noise 
 
 I m tough and bound to last ! 
 No, no I m old and withered too 
 
 I feel my powers decline, 
 (Yet none believes this can be true 
 
 Of one at thirty-nine). 
 
 And you, dear girl with velvet eyes, 
 
 I wonder what you mean 
 Through all our keen anxieties 
 
 By keeping sweet sixteen. 
 With your dear love to warm my heart, 
 
 Wretch were I to repine ; 
 I was but jesting at the start 
 
 I m glad I m thirty-nine ! 
 
 So, little children, roar and race 
 
 As blithely as you can, 
 And, sweetheart, let your tender grace 
 
 Exalt the Day and Man ; 
 For then these factors (I 11 engage) 
 
 All subtly shall combine 
 To make both juvenile and sage 
 
 The one who s thirty-nine ! 
 
1 88 THIRTY-NINE. 
 
 Yes, after all, I m free to say 
 
 I would much rather be 
 Standing as I do stand to-day, 
 
 Twixt devil and deep sea ; 
 For though my face be dark with care 
 
 Or with a grimace shine, 
 Each haply falls unto my share, 
 
 For I am thirty-nine ! 
 
 T is passing meet to make good cheer 
 
 And lord it like a king, 
 Since only once we catch the year 
 
 That does n t mean a thing. 
 O happy day ! O gracious day ! 
 
 I pledge thee in this wine 
 Come, let us journey on our way 
 
 A year, good Thirty-Nine ! 
 
 Sept. 2, 1889. 
 
YVYTOT. 189 
 
 YVYTOT. 
 
 J^f/HERE wail the waters in their flow 
 
 A spectre wanders to and fro, 
 And evermore that ghostly shore 
 Bemoans the heir of Yvytot. 
 
 Sometimes, when, like a fleecy pall, 
 The mists upon the waters fall, 
 
 Across the main float shadows twain 
 That do not heed the spectre s call. 
 
 The king his son of Yvytot 
 Stood once and saw the waters go 
 
 Boiling around with hissing sound 
 The sullen phantom rocks below. 
 
 And suddenly he saw a face 
 
 Lift from that black and seething place 
 
 Lift up and gaze in mute amaze 
 And tenderly a little space, 
 
190 YVYTOT. 
 
 A mighty cry of love made he 
 No answering word to him gave she, 
 
 But looked, and then sunk back again 
 Into the dark and depthless sea. 
 
 And ever afterward that face, 
 That he beheld such little space, 
 
 Like wraith would rise within his eyes 
 And in his heart find biding place. 
 
 So oft from castle hall he crept 
 
 Where mid the rocks grim shadows slept, 
 
 And where the mist reached down and kissed 
 The waters as they wailed and wept. 
 
 The king it was of Yvytot 
 That vaunted, many years ago, 
 
 There was no coast his valiant host 
 Had not subdued with spear and bow. 
 
 For once to him the sea-king cried : 
 " In safety all thy ships shall ride 
 
 An thou but swear thy princely heir 
 Shall take my daughter to his bride. 
 
YVYTOT. 
 
 "And lo, these winds that rove the sea 
 Unto our pact shall witness be, 
 
 And of the oath which binds us both 
 Shall be the judge twixt me and thee! " 
 
 Then swore the king of Yvytot 
 Unto the sea-king years ago, 
 
 And with great cheer for many a year 
 His ships went harrying to and fro. 
 
 Unto this mighty king his throne 
 Was born a prince, and one alone 
 
 Fairer than he in form and blee 
 And knightly grace was never known. 
 
 But once he saw a maiden face 
 Lift from a haunted ocean place 
 Lift up and gaze in mute amaze 
 And tenderly a little space. 
 
 Wroth was the king of Yvytot, 
 For that his son would never go 
 
 Sailing the sea, but liefer be 
 Where wailed the waters in their flow, 
 
192 YVYTOT 
 
 Where winds in clamorous anger swept, 
 Where to and fro grim shadows crept, 
 
 And where the mist reached down and kissed 
 The waters as they wailed and wept. 
 
 So sped the years, till came a day 
 The haughty king was old and gray, 
 And in his hold were spoils untold 
 That he had wrenched from Norroway. 
 
 Then once again the sea-king cried : 
 " Thy ships have harried far and wide ; 
 
 My part is done now let thy son 
 Require my daughter to his bride ! " 
 
 Loud laughed the king of Yvytot, 
 And by his soul he bade him no 
 " I heed no more what oath I swore, 
 For I was mad to bargain so ! " 
 
 Then spake the sea-king in his wrath : 
 " Thy ships lie broken in my path ! 
 
 Go now and wring thy hands, false king! 
 Nor ship nor heir thy kingdom hath ! 
 
YVYTOT. 
 
 " And thou shalt wander evermore 
 All up and down this ghostly shore, 
 
 And call in vain upon the twain 
 That keep what oath a dastard swore 1" 
 
 The king his son of Yvytot 
 Stood even then where to and fro 
 
 The breakers swelled and there beheld 
 A maiden face lift from below 
 
 " Be thou or truth or dream," he cried, 
 " Or spirit of the restless tide, 
 
 It booteth not to me, God wot ! 
 But I would have thee to my bride." 
 
 Then spake the maiden: " Come with me 
 Unto a palace in the sea, 
 
 For there my sire in kingly ire 
 Requires thy king his oath of thee ! " 
 
 Gayly he fared him down the sands 
 
 And took the maiden s outstretched hands ; 
 
 And so went they upon their way 
 To do the sea-king his commands. 
 
194 YVYTOT. 
 
 The winds went riding to and fro 
 
 And scourged the waves that crouched below, 
 
 And bade them sing to a childless king 
 The bridal song of Yvytot. 
 
 So fell the curse upon that shore, 
 And hopeless wailing evermore 
 
 Was the righteous dole of the craven soul 
 That heeded not what oath he swore. 
 
 An hundred ships went down that day 
 All off the coast of Norroway, 
 
 And the ruthless sea made mighty glee 
 Over the spoil that drifting lay. 
 
 The winds went calling far and wide 
 To the dead that tossed in the mocking tide : 
 " Come forth, ye slaves ! from your fleeting graves 
 And drink a health to your prince his bride ! " 
 
 Where wail the waters in their flow 
 A spectre wanders to and fro, 
 
 But nevermore that ghostly shore 
 Shall claim the heir of Yvytot. 
 
YVYTOT. 195 
 
 Sometimes, when, like a fleecy pall, 
 The mists upon the waters fall, 
 
 Across the main flit shadows twain 
 That do not heed the spectre s call. 
 
196 LONG AGO. 
 
 LONG AGO. 
 
 J ONCE knew all the birds that came 
 
 And nested in our orchard trees ; 
 For every flower I had a name 
 
 My friends were woodchucks, toads, and bees ; 
 I knew where thrived in yonder glen 
 
 What plants would soothe a stone-bruised toe 
 Oh, I was very learned then ; 
 
 But that was very long ago ! 
 
 I knew the spot upon the hill 
 
 Where checkerberries could be found, 
 I knew the rushes near the mill 
 
 Where pickerel lay that weighed a pound ! 
 I knew the wood, the very tree 
 
 Where lived the poaching, saucy crow, 
 And all the woods and crows knew me 
 
 But that was very long ago. 
 
LONG AGO. 197 
 
 And pining for the joys of youth, 
 
 I tread the old familiar spot 
 Only to learn this solemn truth : 
 
 I have forgotten, am forgot. 
 Yet here s this youngster at my knee 
 
 Knows all the things I used to know; 
 To think I once was wise as he 
 
 But that was very long ago. 
 
 I know it s folly to complain 
 
 Of whatsoe er the Fates decree ; 
 Yet were not wishes all in vain, 
 
 I tell you what my wish should be : 
 I d wish to be a boy again, 
 
 Back with the friends I used to know ; 
 For I was, oh ! so happy then 
 
 But that was very long ago ! 
 
198 TO A SGUBRETTE. 
 
 TO A SOUBRETTE. 
 
 "T* IS years, soubrette, since last we met; 
 
 And yet ah, yet, how swift and tender 
 My thoughts go back in time s dull track 
 
 To you, sweet pink of female gender ! 
 I shall not say though others may 
 
 That time all human joy enhances ; 
 But the same old thrill comes to me still 
 
 With memories of your songs and dances. 
 
 Soubrettish ways these latter days 
 
 Invite my praise, but never get it ; 
 I still am true to yours and you 
 
 My record s made, I 11 not upset it ! 
 The pranks they play, the things they say 
 
 I d blush to put the like on paper, 
 And I 11 avow they don t know how 
 
 To dance, so awkwardly they caper ! 
 
TO A SOUBRETTE 1 99 
 
 I used to sit down in the pit 
 
 And see you flit like elf or fairy 
 Across the stage, and I 11 engage 
 
 No moonbeam sprite were half so airy ; 
 Lo, everywhere about me there 
 
 Were rivals reeking with pomatum, 
 And if, perchance, they caught your glance 
 
 In song or dance, how did I hate em ! 
 
 At half-past ten came rapture then 
 
 Of all those men was I most happy, 
 For bottled beer and royal cheer 
 
 And tete-k-tetes were on the tapis. 
 Do you forget, my fair soubrette, 
 
 Those suppers at the Cafe* Rector, 
 The cosey nook where we partook 
 
 Of sweeter cheer than fabled nectar ? 
 
 Oh, happy days, when youth s wild ways 
 
 Knew every phase of harmless folly ! 
 Oh, blissful nights, whose fierce delights 
 
 Defied gaunt-featured Melancholy ! 
 Gone are they all beyond recall, 
 
 And I a shade, a mere reflection 
 Am forced to feed my spirits greed 
 
 Upon the husks of retrospection ! 
 
2OO TO A SOUBRETTE. 
 
 And lo ! to-night, the phantom light, 
 
 That, as a sprite, flits on the fender, 
 Reveals a face whose girlish grace 
 
 Brings back the feeling, warm and tender ; 
 And, all the while, the old-time smile 
 
 Plays on my visage, grim and wrinkled, 
 As though, soubrette, your footfalls yet 
 
 Upon my rusty heart-strings tinkled ! 
 
HOME TIME 2O I 
 
 SOME TIME. 
 
 T AST night, my darling, as you slept, 
 
 I thought I heard you sigh, 
 And to your little crib I crept, 
 
 And watched a space thereby ; 
 And then I stooped and kissed your brow, 
 
 For oh ! I love you so 
 You are too young to know it now, 
 
 But some time you shall know ! 
 
 Some time when, in a darkened place 
 
 Where others come to weep, 
 Your eyes shall look upon a face 
 
 Calm in eternal sleep, 
 The voiceles-3 lips, the wrinkled brow, 
 
 The patient smile shall show 
 You are too young to know it now, 
 
 But some time you may know ! 
 
202 SOME TIME. 
 
 Look backward, then, into the years, 
 
 And see me here to-night 
 See, O my darling ! how my tears 
 
 Are falling as I write ; 
 And feel once more upon your brow 
 
 The kiss of long ago 
 You are too young to know it now, 
 
 But some time you shall know. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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