RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD BY THE SAME AUTHOR THE OLD SWIMMIN'-HOLE AND'LEVEN MORE POEMS. SKETCHES IN PROSE AND OCCASIONAL VERSES. AFTERWHILES: DIALECT AND OTHER POETRY. PIPES O'PAN: FIVE SKETCHES AND FIFTY POEMS. RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD: DIALECT AND OTHER VERSES. [The above published by THE BOWEN-MERRILL Co., Indianapolis.] IN ENGLAND [By LONGMANS, GREEN & Co., London.] OLD-FASHIONED ROSES: POEMS DIALECT AND VARIOUS. Wojild, as now, we might endure, Twain as one! RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY INDIANAPOLIS THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO Univ. Library, (JC Santo Gas IWf COPYRIGHT 1890 BY J. W. RILEY es TO THE LITTLE NEPHEW HENRY EDMUND EITEL PREFATORY NOTE IN presenting herein the child dialect upon an equal footing with the proper or more serious English, the conscientious author feels it neither his desire nor province to offer excuse. Wholly simple and artless, Nature's children oftentimes seem the more engaging for their very defects of speech and general deportment. We need worry very little for their futures since the All-Kind Mother has them in her keep. It is just and good to give the elegantly trained and edu- cated child a welcome hearing. It is no less just and pleasant to admit his homely but wholesome-hearted little brother to our interest and love. J. W. R. CONTENTS PROEM THE RIDER OF THE KNEE THE RAGGEDY MAN i THE LITTLE-RED-APPLE TREE 3 A BOY'S MOTHER 5 THK PIXY PEOPLE 6 UNCLE SIDNEY 9 PANSIES 10 WAITIN' PER THE CAT TO DIE . . . ., . . . .n THE FISHING PARTY 13 MOTHER GOOSE . 15 THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE . 16 THE DAYS GONE BY 19 THE BOY LIVES ON OUR FARM 20 THE ROBINS' OTHER NAME 21 To HATTIE ON HER BIRTHDAY 22 THE LOST Kiss 23 MABEL 25 LITTLE GIRLY-GIRL 27 THE RUNAWAY BOY 28 TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS 30 ON THE SUNNY SIDE 33 THE ALL-GOLDEN 35 LONGFELLOW'S LOVE FOR THE CHILDREN 37 WINTER FANCIES 38 THE PRAYER PERFECT 40 A MOTHER-SONG . . 4! IN THE NIGHT 42 THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW 43 UNCLE Si DNEY' s ~\ IEWS 46 WHEN EARLY MARCH .EMS MIDDLE MAY 47 THE NINE LITTLE GOB :s 49 THE LITTLE COAT 5 T OUR HIRED GIRL 53 THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE PRINCESS 55 THE LAND OF USED-TO-BE 58 WHO SANTA-CLAUS Wuz 60 WHEN OUR BABY DIED 62 CHRISTINE BRAIBRY 63 THE SQUIRTGUN UNCLE MAKED ME 67 A HOME-MADE FAIRY-TALE 69 THE YOUTHFUL PRESS 71 THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN 72 BABY'S DYING 76 GRANNY'S COME TO OUR HOUSE 77 THE BOYS 79 THE STEPMOTHER. So OLD MAN'S NURSERY RHYME Si THE SONG CF YESTERDAY 83 LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE 85 BABYHOOD 8S MAX AND JIM 89 THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE 90 THE OLD HAY-MOW 92 JOHN TARKINGTON JAMESON . . . . . . . -94 DWAINIE A SPRITE SONG 95 GUINEYPIGS 96 BUSCH AND TOMMY 97 LITTLE MAHALA ASHCRAFT 98 BABE HERRICK . . 100 THE LANDOFTHUS-AND-SO 101 GRANDFATHER SQUEERS . . ... 104 THE LITTLE TINY KICKSHAW 108 THE LUGUBRIOUS WHING-WHANG 109 LAWYER AND CHILD in THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN 112 THE FUNNIEST THING IN THE WORLD 119 CRADLE SONG 120 LITTLE JOHNTS'S CHRISMUS 121 DOWN AROUND THE RIVER . . . 125 THE BOYS' CANDIDATE 127 THE BUMBLE-BEE 128 HE CALLED HER IN 129 THE BOY-FRIEND "... 134 WHEN THE WORLD BU'STS THROUGH ....... 136 A PROSPECTIVE GLIMPSE 138 THE OLD TRAMP 139 CURLY LOCKS 140 THE PET COON 141 A NONSENSE RHYME 143 NAUGHTY CLAUDE . 146 THE OLD, OLD WISH 147 THE PREACHER'S Bov 148 AN IMPETUOUS RESOLVE ......... 151 A SUDDEN SHOWER . 152 THE HUNTER BOY 154 THE MAN IN THE MOON 155 A CHILD'S HOME LONG AGO ...... 158 BILLY GOODIN' . 161 A PASSING HAIL 162 PRIOR To Miss BELLE'S APPEARANCE ...... 164 SPRITE SERENADE 167 A LIFE-LESSON 169 HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB 170 IN SWIMMING-TIME 171 SHE "DISPLAINS" IT . . ; 174 THE WAY THE BABY SLEPT 175 THE JOLLY MILLER 176 WITH THE CURRENT ...-..... iyg A SLEEPING BEAUTY 180 AT AUNTY'S HOUSE ....... t i8a THE WHITHERAWAYS .. 184 ENVOY ... ..... 185 For reprint here of many poems especial thanks are due the court- esy of magazines THE CENTURY, HARPER'S MONTHLY, ST. NICHOLAS, WIDE AWAKE and THE BOOK BUYER. RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD THE RIDER OF THE KNEE. J^NIGHTL Y Rider of the Knee Of Proud-prancing Under y! Gaily mount, and wave the sign Of that mastery of thine. Pat thy steed and turn him free, Knightly Rider of the Knee ! Sit thy charger as a throne Lash him with thy laugh alone: Sting him only with the spur Of such wit as may occur ', Knightly Rider of the Knee, In thy shriek of ecstasy. Would, as now, we might endure, Twain as one thou minature Ruler, at the rein of me Knightly Rider of the Knee! THE RAGGEDY MAN. OTIIE RAGGEDY MAN ! He works fer Pa ; An' he's the goodest man ever you saw ! He comes to our house every day, An' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay ; An' he opens the shed an' we all ist laugh When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf; An' nen ef our hired girl says he can He milks the cow fer 'Lizabuth Ann. Aint he a' awful good Raggedy Man? Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! W'y, The Raggedy Man he's ist so good He splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood ; An' nen he spades in our garden, too, An' does most things 'at boys can't do. He clumbed clean up in our big tree An' shooked a' apple down fer me An' nother'n', too, fer 'Lizabuth Ann An' nother'n', too, fer The Raggedy Man. Aint he a' awful kind Raggedy Man? Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! THE RA G GED Y MAN. An' The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes An' tells 'em, ef I be good, sometimes : Knows 'bout Giunts, an' Griffuns, an' Elves, An' the Squidgicum-Squees 'at swallers therselves! An', wite by the pump in our pasture-lot, He showed me the hole 'at the Wunks is got, 'At lives 'way deep in the ground, an' can Turn into me, er'Lizabuth Ann! Aint he a funny old Raggedy Man ? Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! The Raggedy Man one time when he Was makin' a little bow'-n'-orry fer me, Says " When yoii're big like your Pa is, Air you go' to keep a fine store like his An' be a rich merchunt an' wear fine clothes ? Er what air you go' to be, goodness knows!" An' nen he laughed at 'Lizabuth Ann, An' I says "'M go' to be a Raggedy Man! I'm ist go' to be a nice Raggedy Man!" Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! THE LITTLE-RED-APPLE TREE. THE LITTLE-RED-APPLE TREE. THE Little-red-apple Tree! O the Little-red-apple Tree ! When I was the little-est bit of a boy, And you were a boy with me ! The bluebird's flight from the topmost boughs, And the boys up there so high That we rocked over the roof of the house And whooped as the winds went by ! Ho ! The Little-red-apple Tree ! With the garden-beds below, And the old grape-arbor so welcomely Hiding the rake and hoe ; Hiding, too, as the sun dripped through In spatters of wasted gold, Frank and Amy away from you And me in the days of old. The Little-red-apple Tree ! In the edge of the garden-spot, Where the apples fell so lavishly Into the neighbor's lot ; THE LITTLE-RED-APPLE TREE. So do I think of you, Brother of mine,'as the tree, Giving the ripest wealth of your love To the world as well as me. The Little-red-apple Tree! Sweet as its juciest fruit Spanged on the palate spicily, And rolled o'er the tongue to boot, Is the memory still and the joy Of the Little-red-apple Tree, When I was the little-est bit of a boy And you were a boy with me ! A BOY'S MOTHER. A BOY'S MOTHER. MY MOTHER she's so good to me, Ef I was good as I could be, I couldn't be as good no, sir! Can't any boy be good as her! She loves me when I'm glad er sad ; She loves me when I'm good er bad ; An', what's a funniest thing, she says She loves me when she punishes. I don't like her to punish me. That don't hurt, but it hurts to see Her cryin'. Then / cry ; an' nen We both cry an' be good again. She loves me when she cuts and sews My little cloak an* Sund'y clothes ; An' when my Pa comes home to tea, She loves him most as much as me. She laughs an' tells him all I said, An' grabs me up an* pats my head; An' I hug her, an' hug my Pa An' love him purt'nigh much as Ma. THE PIXY PEOPLE, THE PIXY PEOPLE. IT was just a very Merry fairy dream ! All the woods were airy With the gloom and gleam ; Crickets in the clover Clattered clear and strong, And the bees droned over Their old honey-song. In the mossy passes, Saucy grasshoppers Leapt about the grasses And the thistle-burrs ; And the whispered chuckle Of the katydid Shook the honeysuckle Blossoms where he hid. Through the breezy mazes Of the lazy June, Drowsy with the hazes Of the dreamy noon, Little Pixy people Winged above the walk, Pouring from the steeple Of a mullein-stalk. THE PIXY PEOPLE. One a gallant fellow Evidently King, Wore a plume of yellow In a jewelled ring On a pansy bonnet, Gold and white and blue, With the dew still on it, And the fragrance, too. One a dainty lady, Evidently Queen Wore a gown of shady Moonshine and green, With a lace of gleaming Starlight that sent All the dewdrops dreaming Everywhere she went. One wore a waistcoat Of roseleaves, out and in, And one wore a faced-coat Of tiger-lily-skin ; And one wore a neat coat Of palest galingale ; And one a tiny street-coat, And one a swallow-tail. THE PIXY PEOPLE. And Ho ! sang the King of them, And Hey! sang the Queen ; And round and round the ring of them Went dancing o'er the green ; And Hey! sang the Queen of them, And Ho ! sang the King And all that I had seen of them Wasn't anything! It was just a very Merry fairy dream ! All the woods were airy With the gloom and gleam ; Crickets in the clover Clattered clear and strong, And the bees droned over Their old honey-song! UNCLE SIDNEY. UNCLE SIDNEY. QOMETIMES, when I bin bad, ^-} An' Pa "corrects" me nen, An' Uncle Sidney he comes here, I'm alluz good again ; 'Cause Uncle Sidney says, An' takes me up an' smiles, The goodest mens they is aint good As baddest little childs / io PANSIES. PANSIES. PANSIES! Pansies! How I love you, pansies! Jaunty-faced, laughing-lipped and dewy-eyed with glee ; Would my song might blossom out in little five-leaved stanzas As delicate in fancies As your beauty is to me ! But my eyes shall smile on you, and my hands enfold you, Pet, caress, and lift you to the lips that love you so, That, shut ever in the years that may mildew or mold you, My fancy shall behold you Fair as in the long ago. WAITIN' PER THE CAT TO DIE. WAITIN' PER THE CAT TO DIE. LAWZY ! don't I rickollect That-'air old swing in the lane! Right and proper, I expect, Old times carft come back again ; But I want to state, ef they Could come back, and I could say What my pick ud be, 'y jing! I'd say, Gimme the old swing 'Nunder the old locus' -trees On the old place, ef you please! Danglin' there with half- she t eye, Waitin' fer the cat to die! I'd say, Gimme the old gang Of barefooted, hungry, lean, Or'n'ry boys you want to hang When you're growed up twic't as mean! The old gyarden-patch, the old Truants, and the stuff we stol'd ! The old stompin'-groun', where we Wore the grass off, wild and free As the swoop of the old swing, Where we us't to climb and cling, And twist roun', and fight, and lie Waitin' fer the cat to die! 12 WAITIN^ PER THE CAT TO DIE. 'Pears like I 'most allus could Swing the highest of the crowd Jes sail up there tel I stood Downside-up, and screech out loud,- Ketch my breath, and jes drap back Fer to let the old swing slack, Yit my tow-head dippin' still In the green boughs, and the chill Up my backbone taperin' down, With my shadder on the groun' Slow and slower trailin' by Waitin' fer the cat to die ! Now my daughter's little Jane's Got a kind o' baby-swing On the porch, so's when it rains She kin play there little thing! And I'd limped out t'other day With my old cheer this-a-way, Swingin' her and rockin' too, Thinkin' how / us't to do At her age, when suddently, "Hey, Gran'pap!" she says to me, "Why you rock so slow ?".... Says I, "Waitin' fer the cat to die!" THE FISHING PARTY. 13 THE FISHING PARTY. WUNST we went a-fishin' Me An' my Pa an' Ma all three, When they was a pic-nic, 'way Out to Ranch's Woods, one day. An' they was a crick out there, Where the fishes is, an' where Little boys 'taint big an' strong Better have their folks along! My Pa he ist fished an' fished! An' my Ma she said she wished Me an' her was home ; an' Pa Said he wished so worse'n Ma. Pa said ef you talk, er say Anything, er sneeze, er play, Haint no fish, alive er dead, Ever go' to bite ! he said. Purt' nigh dark in town when we Got back home ; an' Ma says she, Now she'll have a fish fer shore ! An' she buyed one at the store. 14 THE FISHING PARTY. Nen at supper, Pa he won't Eat no fish, an' says he don't Like 'em. An' he pounded me When I choked! Ma, didn't he ? MOTHER GOOSE. MOTHER GOOSE. DEAR Mother Goose! most motherly and clear Of all good mothers who have laps wherein We children nestle safest from all sin, I cuddle to thy bosom, with no fear To there confess that, though thy cap be queer, And thy curls gimblety, and thy cheeks thin, And though the winkered mole upon thy chin Tickles thy very nose-tip, still to hear The jolly jingles of mine infancy Crooned by thee, makes mine eager arms, as now, To twine about thy neck, full tenderly Drawing the dear old face down, that thy brow May dip into my purest kiss, and be Crowned ever with the baby-love of me. 1 6 THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE, THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE. I'M thist a little crippled boy, an' never goin' to grow An' git a great big man at all ! 'cause Aunty told me so. When I was thist a baby onc't, I failed out of the bed An' got "The Curv'ture of the Spine" 'at's what the Doctor said. I never had no Mother nen fer my Pa runned away An' dass n't come back here no more 'cause he was drunk one day An' stobbed a man in thish-ere town, an' could n't pay his fine! An' nen my Ma she died an' I got "Curv'ture of the Spine!" I'm nine years old! An' you can't guess how much I weigh, I betS- Last birthday I weighed thirty-three ! An' I weigh thirty yet ! I'm awful little fer my size I'm purt' nigh littler 'an Some babies is! an' neighbors all calls me "The Little Man!" An' Doc one time he laughed an' said : "I spect, first thing you know, You'll have a little spike-tail coat an' travel with a show!" An' nen I laughed till I looked round an' Aunty was a cry- in' Sometimes she acts like that, 'cause I got "Curv'ture of the spine. " THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE. 17 I set while Aunty's washin' on my little long-leg stool, An' watch the little boys an' girls 'a-skippin' by to school; An' I peck on the winder, an' holler out an' say: "Who wants to fight The Little Man 'at dares you all to- day?" An, nen the boys climbs on the fence, an' little girls peeks through, An' they all says: "Cause you're so big, you think we're 'feard o' you !" An' nen they yell, an' shake their fist at me, like I shake mine They're thist in fun, you know, 'cause I got "Curvature of the Spine. " At evening, when the ironin's done, an' Aunty's fixed the fire, An' filled an' lit the lamp, an' trimmed the wick an' turned it higher, An' fetched the wood all in fer night, an' locked the kitchen door, An' stuffed the ole crack where the wind blows in up through the floor She sets the kittle on the coals, an' biles an' makes the tea, An' fries the liver an' the mush, an' cooks a egg fer me ; An' sometimes when I cough so hard her elderberry wine Don't go so bad fer little boys with "Curv'ture of the Spine !" 1 8 THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE. But Aunty's all so childish-like on my account, you see, I'm 'most afeard she'll be took down an' 'at's what bothers me ! 'Cause ef my good ole Aunty ever would git sick an' die, I don't know what she'd do in Heaven till / come, by an' by:- Fer she's so ust to all my ways, an' ever'thing, you know, An' no one there like me, to nurse an' worry over so ! 'Cause all the little childerns there's so straight an' strong an' fine, They's nary angel 'bout the place with "Curv'ture of the Spine !" NOTE. The word "thist," as used in foregoing lines, is an oc- casional childish pronunciation evolved from the word "just" a word which in child vernacular has manifold supplanters, such as jus, jes, des, jis, dis, jist, dist, ist, &c. In "thist," as above, sound "th" as in "the." THE DAYS GONE BY. 19 THE DAYS GONE BY. OTHE days gone by! O the days gone by! The apples in the orchard, and the pathway through the rye; The chirrup of the robin, and the whistle of the quail As he piped across the meadows sweet as any nightingale; When the bloom was on the clover, and the blue was in the sky, And my happy heart brimmed over, in the days gone by. In the days gone by, when my naked feet were tripped By the honey-suckle tangles where the water-lilies dipped, And the ripples of the river lipped the moss along the brink Where the placid-eyed and lazy-footed cattle came to drink, And the tilting snipe stood fearless of the truant's wayward cry And the splashing of the swimmer, in the days gone by. O the days gone by ! O the days gone by ! The music of the laughing lip, the lustre of the eye; The childish faith in fairies, and Aladdin's magic ring The simple, soul-reposing, glad belief in everything, When life was like a story, holding neither sob nor sigh, In the golden olden glory of the days gone by. THE BOY LIVES ON OUR FARM. THE BOY LIVES ON OUR FARM. THE BOY lives on our Farm, he's not Afeard o' horses none ! An' he can make 'em lope, er trot, Er rack, er pace, er run. Sometimes he drives two horses, when He comes to town an' brings A wagon-full o' 'taters nen, An' roastin'-ears an' things. Two horses is "a team," he says, An' when you drive er hitch, The right -un's a "near-horse," I guess, Er "oft" I don't know which. The Boy lives on our Farm, he told Me, too, 'at he can see, By lookin' at their teeth, how old A horse is, to a T ! I'd be the gladdest boy alive Ef I knowed much as that, An' could stand up like him an' drive, An' ist push back my hat, Like he comes skallyhootin' through Our alley, with one arm A-wavin' Fare-ye-well ! to you The Boy lives on our Farm ! THE ROBINS^ OTHER NAME. 2l THE ROBINS' OTHER NAME. IN the Orchard-Days, when you Children look like blossoms, too; Bessie, with her jaunty ways And trim poise of head and face, Must have looked superior Even to the blossoms, for Little Winnie once averred Bessie looked just like the bird Tilted on the topmost spray Of the apple-boughs in May, With the red breast, and the strong, Clear, sweet warble of his song. "I don't know their name," Win said- "I ist maked a name instead.'' So forever afterwards We called robins "Bessie-birds." 22 TO HATTIEON HER BIRTHDAY. TO HATTIEON HER BIRTHDAY. [Written in "A Child's Garden of Verses."] WHEN your "Uncle Jim" was younger, In the days of childish hunger For the honey of such verses As this little book rehearses In such sweet simplicity, Just the simple gift that this is Would have brimmed his heart with blisses Sweet as Hattie's sweetest kisses, On her anniversary. THE LOST KISS. 23 THE LOST KISS. I PUT by the half-written poem, While the pen, idly trailed in my hand, Writes on, "Had I words to complete it, Who'd read it, or who'd understand?" But the little bare feet on the stairway, And the faint, smothered laugh in the hall, And the eerie-low lisp on the silence, Cry up to me over it all. So I gather it up where was broken The tear-faded thread of my theme, Telling how, as one night I sat writing, A fairy broke in on my dream; A little inquisitive fairy My own little girl, with the gold Of the sun in her hair, and the dewy Blue eyes of the fairies of old. 'Twas the clear little girl that I scolded "For was it a moment like this," I said, "when she knew I was busy, To come romping in for a kiss? Come rowdying up from her mother, And clamoring there at my knee For 'One 'it tie kiss for my dolly, And one 'ittle uzzer for me!'" 24 THE LOST KISS. God pity the heart that repelled her, And the cold hand that turned her away ! And take, from the lips that denied her, This answerless prayer of to-day ! Take, Lord, from my memory forever That pitiful sob of despair, And the patter and trip of the little bare feet, And the one piercing cry on the stair ! I put by the half-written poem, While the pen, idly trailed in my hand, Writes on, "Had I words to complete it, Who'd read it, or who'd understand?" But the little bare feet on the stairway, And the faint, smothered laugh in the hall, And the eerie-low lisp on the silence, Cry up to me over it all. MABEL. 25 MABEL. SWEET little face, so full of slumber now- Sweet lips unlifted now with any kiss Sweet dimpled cheek and chin, and snowy brow,- What quietude is this? O speak ! Have you forgotten, yesterday, How gladly you came running to the gate To meet us in the old familiar way, So joyous so elate So filled with wildest glee, yet so serene With innocence of song and childish chat, With all the dear caresses in between Have you forgotten that? Have you forgotten, knowing gentler charms, The boisterous love of one you ran to greet When you last met, who caught you in his arms And kissed you, in the street? Not very many days have passed since then, And yet between that kiss and him there lies No pathway of return unless again, In streets of Paradise, 26 MABEL. Your eager feet come twinkling down the gold Of some bright thoroughfare ethereal, To meet and greet him there just as of old Till then, farewell farewell. LITTLE GIRLY-GIRL. 27 LITTLE GIRLY-GIRL. LITTLE Girly-Girl, of you Still forever I am dreaming. Laughing eyes of limpid blue Tresses glimmering and gleaming Like glad waters, running over Shelving shallows, rimmed with clover, Trembling where the eddies whirl, Gurgling, "Little Girly-Girl!" For your name it came to me Down the brink of brooks that brought it Out of Paradise and we Love and I we, leaning, caught it From the ripples romping nigh us, And the bubbles bumping by us Over shoals of pebbled pearl, Lilting, "Little Girly-Girl!" That was long and long ago, But in memory the tender Winds of summer-weather blow, And the roses burst in splendor; And the meadow's grassy billows Break in blossoms round the willows Where the currents curve and curl, Calling, "Little Girly-Girl ! 28 THE R UNA IV A Y BOY. THE RUNAWAY BOY. WUNST I sassed my Pa, an' he Won't stand that, an' punished me,- Nen when he was gone that day, I slipped out an' runned away. I looked all my copper-cents, An' clumbed over our back fence In the jimpson-weeds 'at growed Ever'where all down the road. Nen I got out there, an' nen I runned some an' runned again When I met a man 'at led A big cow 'at shocked her head. I went down a long, long lane Where was little pigs a-play'n'; An' a grea'-big pig went "Booh!" An' jumped up, an' skeered me too. Nen I scampered past, an' they Was somebody hollered "Hey!" An' I ist looked everywhere, An' they was nobody there. THE R UNA WA Y BOY. 29 I Want to, but I'm '(raid to try To go back. . . . An' by-an' -by, Somepin' hurts my throat inside An' I want my Ma an' cried. Nen a grea'-big girl come through Where's a gate, an' telled me who Am I? an' ef I tell where My home's at she'll show me there. But I couldn't ist but tell What's my name-, an' she says well, An' she tooked me up an' says She know where I live, she guess. Nen she telled me hug wite close Round her neck ! an' off she goes Skippin' up the street ! An' nen Flirty soon I'm home again. An' my Ma, when she kissed me, Kissed the big girl too, an' she Kissed me ef I p'omise shore I won't run away no more! 30 TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS. TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS. i. TIME of crisp and tawny leaves, And of tarnished harvest sheaves, And of dusty grasses weeds Thistles, with their tufted seeds Voyaging the Autumn breeze Like as fairy argosies: Time of quicker flash of wings, And of clearer twitterings In the grove, or deeper shade Of the tangled everglade, Where the spotted water- snake Coils him in the sunniest brake; And the bittern, as in fright, Darts, in sudden, slanting flight, Southward, while the startled crane Films his eyes in dreams again. II. Down along the dwindled creek We go loitering. We speak Only with old questionings Of the dear remembered things Of the days of long ago, When the stream seemed thus and so TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS. 31 In our boyish eyes: The bank Greener then, through rank on rank Of the mottled sycamores, Touching tops across the shores: Here, the hazel thicket stood There, the almost pathless wood Where the shellbark hickory tree Rained its wealth on you and me. Autumn ! as you loved us then, Take us to your heart again ! in. Season halest of the year ! How the zestful atmosphere Nettles blood and brain, and smites Into life the old delights We have wasted in our youth, And our graver years, forsooth ! How again the boyish heart Leaps to see the chipmunk start From the brush and sleek the sun's Very beauty, as he runs ! How again a subtle hint Of crushed pennyroyal or mint, Sends us on our knees, as when We were truant boys of ten Brown marauders of the wood, Merrier than Robin Hood! 32 TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS. IV. Ah ! will any minstrel say, In his sweetest roundelay, What is sweeter, after all, Than black haws, in early Fall Fruit so sweet the frost first sat, Dainty-toothed, and nibbled at ! And will any poet sing Of a lusher, richer thing Than a ripe Mayapple, rolled Like a pulpy lump of gold Under thumb and finger-tips, And poured molten through the lips. Go, ye bards of classic themes, Pipe your songs by classic streams ! I would twang the redbird's wings In the thicket while he sings ! ON THE SUNNY SIDE. 33 ON THE SUNNY SIDE. HI and whoop-hooray, boys ! Sing a song of cheer ! Here's a holiday, boys, Lasting half a year ! Round the world, and half is Shadow we have tried; Now we're where the laugh is, On the sunny side ! Pigeons coo and mutter, Strutting high aloof Where the sunbeams flutter Through the stable roof. Hear the chickens cheep, boys, And the hen with pride Clucking them to sleep, boys, On the sunny side ! Hear the clacking guinea; Hear the cattle moo; Hear the horses whinny, Looking out at you! 34 ON THE SUNNY SIDE. On the hitching-block, boys, Grandly satisfied, See the old peacock, boys, On the sunny side ! Robins in the peach-tree; Bluebirds in the pear; Blossoms over each tree In the orchard there! All the world's in joy, boys, Glad and glorified As a romping boy, boys, On the sunny side ! Where's a heart as mellow? Where's a soul as free? Where is any fellow We would rather be? Just ourselves or none, boys, World around and wide, Laughing in the sun boys, On the sunny side ! THE ALL-GOLDEN. 35 THE ALL-GOLDEN. THROUGH every happy line I sing I feel the tonic of the Spring. The day is like an old-time face That gleams across some grassy place An old-time face an old-time chum Who rises from the grave to come And lure me back along the ways Of time's all-golden yesterdays. Sweet day ! to thus remind me of The truant boy I used to love To set, once more, his finger-tips Against the blossom of his lips, And pipe for me the signal known By none but him and me alone ! ii. I see, across the school-room floor The shadow of the open door, And dancing dust and sunshine blent Slanting the way the morning went, And beckoning my thoughts afar Where reeds and running waters are; Where amber-colored bayous glass 36 THE ALL-GOLDEN. The half drowned weeds and wisps of grass; Where sprawling frogs, in loveless key, Sing on and on incessantly. Against the green woods dim expanse The cat-tail tilts its tufted lance, While on its tip one might declare The white "snakefeeder" blossomed there! in. I catch my breath, as children do In woodland swings when life is new, And all the blood is warm as wine And tingles with a tang divine. My soul soars up the atmosphere And sings aloud where God can hear; And all my being leans intent To mark His smiling wonderment. O gracious dream, and gracious time, And gracious theme, and gracious rhyme When buds of Spring begin to blow In blossoms that we used to know, And lure us back along the ways Of time's all-golden yesterdays ! LONGFELLOW'S LOVE FOR CHILDREN. 37 LONGFELLOW'S LOVE FOR THE CHILDREN. AWAKE, he loved their voices, And wove them into his rhyme; And the music of their laughter Was with him all the time. Though he knew the tongues of nations, And their meanings all were dear, The prattle and lisp of a little child Was the sweetest for him to hear. 38 WINTER FANCIES. WINTER FANCIES. w 1 r INTER without And warmth within; The winds may shout And the storm begin; The snows may pack At the window pane, And the skies grow black, And "the sun remain Hidden away The livelong day But here in here is the warmth of May ! Swoop your spitefullest Up the flue, Wild Winds do ! What in the world do I care for you? O delightfullest Weather of all, Howl and squall, And shake the trees till the last leaves fall ! WINTER FANCIES. in. The joy one feels, In an easy chair, Cocking his heels In the dancing air That wreathes the rim of a roaring stove Whose heat loves better than hearts can love, Will not permit The coldest day To drive away The fire in his blood, and the bliss of it ! IV. Then blow, Winds, blow ! And rave and shriek, And snarl and snow Till your breath grows weak While here in my room I'm as snugly shut As a glad little worm In the heart of a nut ! 40 THE PR A YER PERFECT. THE PRAYER PERFECT. DEAR Lord! kind Lord! Gracious Lord ! I pray Thou wilt look on all I love, Tenderly to-day! Weed their hearts of weariness; Scatter every care Down a wake of angel-wings Winnowing the air. Bring unto the sorrowing All release from pain; Let the lips of laughter Overflow' again; And with all the needy O divide, I pray, This vast treasure of content That is mine to-day ! A MOTHER-SONG. 41 A MOTHER-SONG. MOTHER, O mother! forever I cry for you, Sing the old song I may never forget; Even in slumber I murmur and sigh for you. Mother, O mother, Sing low "Little brother, Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet !" Mother, O mother! the years are so lonely, Filled but with weariness, doubt and regret ! Can't you come back to me for to-night only, Mother, my mother, And sing, "Little brother, Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet !" Mother, O mother! of old I had never One wish denied me, nor trouble to fret; Now must I cry out all vainly forever, Mother, sweet mother, O sing, "Little brother, Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet !" Mother, O mother ! must longing and sorrow Leave me in darkness, with eyes ever wet, And never the hope of a meeting to-morrow? Answer me, mother, And sing, "Little brother, Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet !" 42 IN THE NIGHT. IN THE NIGHT. WHEN it's night, and no light, too, Wakin' by yourself, With the old clock mockin' you On the mantle shelf; In the dark so still and black, You're afeard you'll hear Somepin' awful pop and crack, "Go to sleep, my dear!" That's what Mother says, And t kerfs When we aint afeard ! Wunder, when we be big mens, Then 'ul we be skeerd? Some night Mother's goned away, And ist us is here, Will The Good Man wake and say "Go to sleep my dear?" THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW. 43 THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW. a Funny Little Fellow Of the very purest type, For he had a heart as mellow As an apple over-ripe; And the brightest little twinkle When a funny thing occurred, And the lightest little tinkle Of a laugh you ever heard ! His smile was like the glitter Of the sun in tropic lands, And his talk a sweeter twitter Than the swallow understands; Hear him sing and tell a story Snap a joke ignite a pun, 'Twas a capture rapture glory, And explosion all in one! Though he hadn't any money That condiment which tends To make a fellow "honey" For the palate of his friends; Sweet simples he compounded Sovereign antidotes for sin Or taint, a faith unbounded That his friends were genuine. 44 THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW. He was'nt honored, may be For his songs of praise were slim, Yet I never knew a baby That wouldn't crow for him; I never knew a mother But urged a kindly claim Upon him as a brother, At the mention of his name. The sick have ceased their sighing, And have even found the grace Of a smile when they were dying As they looked upon his face; And I've seen his eyes of laughter Melt in tears that only ran As though, swift-dancing after, Came the Funny Little Man. lie laughed away the sorrow, And he laughed away the gloom We are all so prone to borrow From the darkness of the tomb; And he laughed across the ocean Of a happy life, and passed, With a laugh of glad emotion, Into Paradise at last. THE F UNN Y LITTLE FELL O IV. 45 And I think the Angels knew him, And had gathered to await His coming, and run to him Through the widely-opened Gate With their faces gleaming sunny For his laughter-loving sake, And thinking, "What a funny Little Angel he will make!" 46 UNCLE SIDNEY'S VIEWS. UNCLE SIDNEY'S VIEWS. I HOLD that the true age of wisdom is when We are boys and girls, and not women and men, When as credulous children we know things because We believe them however averse to the laws. It is fait /i, then, not science and reason, I say, That is genuine wisdom. And would that to-day We as then, were as wise and ineffably blest As to live, love and die, and trust God for the rest. So I simply deny the old notion, you know, That the wiser we get as the older we grow ! For in youth all we know we are certain of. Now The greater our knowledge, the more we allow For skeptical margin. And hence I regret That the world isn't flat, and the sun doesn't set, And we may not go creeping up home, when we die, Through the moon, like a round yellow hole in the sky. WHEN EARL Y MARCH. 47 WHEN EARLY MARCH SEEMS MIDDLE MAY. WHEN country roads begin to thaw In mottled spots of damp and dust, 1 And fences by the margin draw Along the frosty crust Their graphic silhouettes, I say, The Spring is coming round this way. When morning-time is bright with sun And keen with wind, and both confuse The dancing, glancing eyes of one With tears that ooze and ooze And nose-tips weep as well as they, The Spring is coming round this way. When suddenly some shadow-bird Goes wavering beneath the gaze, And through the hedge the moan is heard Of kine that fain would graze In grasses new, I smile and say, The Spring is coming round this way. 48 WHEN EARL Y MAR CH. When knotted horse-tails are untied, And teamsters whistle here and there, And clumsy mitts are laid aside, And choppers' hands are bare, And chips are thick where children play, The Spring is coming round this way. When through the twigs the farmer tramps, And troughs are chunked beneath the trees, And fragrant hints of sugar-camps Astray in every breeze, And early March seems middle-May, The Spring is coming round this way. When coughs are changed to laughs, and when Our frowns melt into smiles of glee, And all our blood thaws out again In streams of ecstasy, And poets wreak their roundelay, The Spring is coming round this way. THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS. 49 THE NINE LfTTLE GOBLINS. THEY all climbed up on a high board fence Nine little goblins, with green-glass eyes Nine little goblins that had no sense, And couldn't tell coppers from cold mince pies; And they all climbed up on the fence, and sat- And I asked them what they were staring at. And the first one said, as he scratched his head With a queer little arm that reached out of his ear And rasped its claws in his hair so red "This is what this little arm is fer!" And he scratched and stared, and the next one said, "How on earth do you scratch your head?" And he laughed like the screech of a rusty hinge Laughed and laughed till his face grew black; And when he choked, with a final twinge Of his stifling laughter, he thumped his back With a fist that grew on the end of his tail Till the breath came back to his lips so pale. And the third little goblin leered round at me And there were no lids on his eyes at all And he clucked one eye, and he says, says he, "What is the style of your socks this fall?" And he clapped his heels and I sighed to see That he had hands where his feet should be. THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS. Then a bald-faced goblin, gray and grim, Bowed his head, and I saw him slip His eyebrows off, as I looked at him, And paste them over his upper lip; And then he moaned in remorseful pain "Would Ah, would I'd me brows again!" And then the whole of the goblin band Rocked on the fence-top to and fro, And clung, in a long row, hand in hand, Singing the songs that they used to know Singing the songs that their grandsires sung In the goo-goo days of the goblin-tongue. And ever they kept their green-glass eyes Fixed on me with a stony stare Till my own grew glazed with a dread surmise, And my hat whooped up on my lifted hair, And I felt the heart in my breast snap to, As you've heard the lid of a snuff-box do. And they sang "You're asleep! There is no board fence, And never a goblin with green-glass eyes ! 'Tis only a vision the mind invents After a supper of cold mince pies. And you're doomed to dream this way," they said, "And you shcfnt wake up till yoi? re clean plum dead!" THE LITTLE COAT. 51 THE LITTLE COAT. HERE'S his ragged "roundabout". Turn the pockets inside out: See; his pen-knife, lost to use, Rusted shut with apple-juice; Here, with marbles, top and string, Is his deadly "devil-sling," With its rubber, limp at last As the sparrows of the past ! Beeswax buckles leather straps Bullets, and a box of caps, Not a thing of all, I guess, But betrays some waywardness E'en these tickets, blue and red, For the Bible-verses said Such as this his mem'ry kept "Jesus wept." Here's a fishing hook-and-line, Tangled up with wire and twine, And dead angle-worms, and some Slugs of lead and chewing gum, Blent with scents that can but come From the oil of rhodium. Here a soiled, yet dainty note, That some little sweetheart wrote, 52 THE LITTLE COAT. Dotting "Vine grows round the stump," And "My sweetest sugar lump !" Wrapped in this a padlock key Where he's filed a touch-hole see ! And some powder in a quill Corked up with a liver pill; And a spongy little chunk Of "punk." Here's the little coat but O ! Where is he we've censured so ! Don't you hear us calling, dear? Back ! come back, and never fear. You may wander where you will, Over orchard, field and hill; You may kill the birds, or do Anything that pleases you ! Ah, this empty coat of his! Every tatter worth a kiss; Every stain as pure instead As the white stars overhead: And the pockets homes were they Of the little hands that play Now no more but, absent, thus Beckon us. OUR HIRED GIRL. 53 OUR HIRED GIRL. % i OUR hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann; An' she can cook best things to eat ! She ist puts dough in our pie-pan, An' pours in somepin' 'at's good and sweet, An' nen she salts it all on top With cinnamon; an' ncn she'll stop An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow, In th'old cook-stove, so's 'two'nt slop An' git all spilled; nen bakes it, so It's custard pie, first thing you know! An' nen she'll say: "Clear out o' my way ! They's time fer work, an' time fer play! Take yer dough, an' run, child; run! Er I cain't git no cookin' done !" When our hired girl 'tends like she's mad, An' says folks got to walk the chalk When s/ie-s around, er wisht they had, I play out on our porch an' talk To th' Raggedy Man 'at mows our lawn; An' he says " Whew !" an' nen leans on His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes OUR HIRED GIRL. An' sniffs all round an' says, "I swawn! Ef my old nose don't tell me lies, It 'pears like I smell custard-pies!" An' nen he'll say, " 'Clear out o' my way ! They's time fer work an' time fer play ! Take yer dough, an' run, Child; run' Er she cain't git no cookin' done!' " Wunst our hired girl, when she Got the supper, an' we all et, An' it was night, an' Ma an' me An' Pa went wher' the "Social" met, An 1 nen when we com* home, an' see A light in the kitchen-door, an' we Heerd a maccordeun, Pa says "Lan'- O'-Gracious! who can her beau be?" An' I marched in, an ' 'Lizabuth Ann Wuz parchin' corn fer the Raggedy Man ! Better say "Clear out o' the way! They's time fer work, an' time fer play! Take the hint, an' run, Child; run! Er we cain't git no courtiri 1 done !" THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE PRINCESS. 55 THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE PRINCESS. 7 '"T"* WAS a curious dream, good sooth ! The dream of The Little Princess; It seemed a dream yet a truth, Long years ago in her youth. It came as a dream no less It was not a dream, she says. (She is singing and saying things Musical as the wile Of the eerie quaverings That drip from the grieved strings Of her lute. We weep or smile Even as she, meanwhile.) In a day, long dead and gone, When her castle-turrets threw Their long, sharp shadows on The sward like lances, wan And lone, she strayed into Strange grounds where lilies grew. There, late in the afternoon, As she sate in the terrace shade, Rav'ling a half-spun tune From a lute like a wee new-moon, High off was a bugle played, And a sound as of steeds that neighed. 56 THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE PRINCESS. And the lute fell from her hands, As her eyes raised, half in doubt, To the arch of the azure lands Where lo ! with the fluttering strands Of a rainbow reined about His wrist, rode a horseman out. And the Little Princess was stirred No less at his steeds than him; A jet-black span of them gird In advance, he bestrode the third; And the troop of them seemed to swim The skies as the Seraphim. Wingless they were, yet so Upborne in their wondrous flight As their master bade them go, They dwindled on high; or lo! They curved from their heavenmost height And swooped to her level sight. And the eyes of The Little Princess Grow O so bright as the chants Of the horseman's courtliness, Saluting her low Ah, yes ! And lifting a voice that haunts Her own song's weird romance. THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE PRINCESS. 57 For (she sings) at last he swept As near to her as the tips Of the lilies, that whitely slept, As he leant o'er one and wept And touched it with his lips Sweeter than honey-drips! And she keeps the lily yet As the horseman bade, (she says) As he launched, with a wild curvet, His steeds toward the far sunset, Till gulfed in its gorgeousness And lost to The Little Princess: But 0, my master sweet! He is coming again! (she sings) My Prince of the Coursers fleet, With his bugle" 1 * echoings, And the breath of his voice for the wings Of the sandals of his feet! ^ 58 THE LAND OF USED- TO-BE. A : THE LAND OF USED-TO-BE. ND where's the land of Used-to-be, does little baby wonder? Oh, we will clap a magic saddle over "Popy's"' knee, And ride away around the world, and in and out and under The whole of all the golden sunny Summer-time and see! Leisurely and lazy-like we'll jostle on our journey, And let the pony bathe his hooves and cool them in the dew, As he sidles down the shady way, and lags along the ferny And green grassy edges of the lane we travel through. And then we'll canter on to catch the bubble of the thistle As it bumps among the butterflies and glimmers down the sun, To leave us laughing all content to hear the robin whistle Or gu^is what Katydid is saying little Katy's done. And pausing here a minute, where we hear the squirrel chuck- le, As he darts from out the underbrush and scampers up the tree, We will gather buds and locust -blossoms, leaves and honey- suckle, To wreathe around our foreheads, riding into Used-to be: THE LAND OF USED-TO-BE. 59 For here's the very rim of it that we go swinging over Don't you hear the Fairy bugles, and the tinkle of the bells, And see the baby-bumble-bees that tumble in the clover, And dangle from the tilted pinks and tipsy pimpernels? And don't you see the merry faces of the daffodillies, And the jolly Johnny-jump-ups, and the butter-cups a-glee, And the low, lolling ripples ring around the water-lilies? All greeting us with laughter, to the Land of Used-to-be! And here among the blossoms of the blooming vines and grasses, With a haze forever hanging in the sky forever blue, And with a breeze from over seas to kiss us as it passes, We will romp around forever as the airy Elfins do ! For all the elves of earth and air are swarm ing here together The prankish Puck, KingOberon, and Queen Titaniatoo; And dear old Mother Goose herself, as sunny as the weather, Comes dancing down the dewy walks to welcome me and you! 60 WHO SANTY-CLAUS WUZ. WHO SANTY-CLAUS WUZ. JES 1 a little bit o' feller I remember still Ust to almost cry fer Christmas, like a youngster will. Fourth o' July's nothin' to it ! New Year's ain't a smell ! Easter-Sunday Circus-day jes' all dead in the shell ! Lawzy, though ! at night, you know, to set around an' hear The old folks work the story off about the sledge an' deer, An' "Santy",skootin' round the roof,all wrapt in fur an' fuzz Long afore I knowed who "Santy-Claus" wuz! Ust to wait, an' set up late, a week er two ahead; Couldn't hardly keep awake, ner wouldn't go to bed; Kittle stewin' on the fire, an' Mother settin' here Darnin' socks, an' rockin' in the skreeky rockin' -cheer; Pap gap', an' wonder where it wuz the money went, An' quar'l with his frosted heels, an' spill his liniment; An' me a-dreamin' sleigh-bells when the clock 'ud whir an' buzz, Long afore I knowed who "Santy-Claus" wuz! WHO SANTY-CLAUS WUZ. 61 Size the fire-place up. an' figger how "Ole Santy" could Manage to come down the chimbly, like they said he would; Wisht 'at I could hide an' see him wunderd what he'd say Ef he ketched a feller layin' fer him thataway ! But I bet on him, an' liked him, same as ef he had Turned to pat me on the back an' say, "Look here, my lad, Here's my pack, jes' he'p yourse'f, like all good boysdoes!" Long afore I knowed who "Santy-CIaus" wuz! Wisht that yarn was true about him, as it 'peared to be Truth made out o' lies like that-un's good enough fer me ! Wisht I still wuz so confidin' I could jes' go wild Over hangin' up my stockin's, like the little child Climbin' in my lap to-night, an' beggin' me to tell 'Bout them reindeers, and "Old Santy" that she loves so well I'm half sorry fer this little-girl-sweetheart of his Long afore She knows who "Santy-Claus-" is! 62 WHEN OUR BABY DIED. WHEN OUR BABY DIED. WHEN our baby died My Ma she ist cried an' cried ! Yes'n my Pa he cried too An' I cried An' me an' you. An' I 'tended like my doll She cried too An' ever' all O ist everybody cried When our baby died ! When our baby died Nen I got to took a ride! An' we all ist rode an' rode Clean to Heav'n where baby goed Mighty nigh! An' nen Ma she Cried ag'in an' Pa an' me. All but ist the Angels cried When our baby died ! CHRISTINE BRAIBRY. CHRISTINE BRAIBRY. THE BEAUTIFUL DOLLY WHO COMES FROM TENTOLEENA LAND, BRINGING A STRANGE LETTER. THE LETTER. THIS little Dolly's name is Christine Braibry.* She was born in Tentoleena Land, where lilies and red roses grow in the air, and humming-birds and butterflies on stalks. You must be kind to Christine, for everything about her in your land will be very strange to her. If she seems to stare in a bewildered way, and will not answer when you ask her why, you must know that she is simply dazed with the wonders that she sees on every hand. It will doubtless be a long, long while before Christine will cease to marvel at The Sun- shine of your strange country; for in Tentoleena Land there is never any shine but Moonshine, and sometimes that gets so muddied up with shade it soils the eye-sight to gaze at it over- much. It will be trying, in your land, for Christine to keep silent all the time, for, in your country, Dollies cannot walk and talk at all perfectly, because they only think they are dreaming all the time, and they dare not speak for fear their voices will awaken them, and they dare not move for fear of falling out of bed. So, you see, you should be very kind indeed to lit- tle Christine Braibry. In Tentoleena Land the Dollies do not sleep long they *Thc terminal of this name is sounded short, as in "lovely." 64 CHRISTINE BRAIBRY. are always the first ones up at Moon-dawn for Moon-dawn is the Dollies' morning. Then they go out in the fragrant grasses, where the big, ripe dew-drops grow much nicer, purer dew than yours on earth, for in Tentoleena Land they gather it before it has been skimmed, and all the pearly cream that gathers on the surface of the drops they stir up with the rest and bathe in that; and this is why the Dollies always have such delicate complexions. Then, when the baths are over, they dress themselves, and waken up their parents, and dress them for in Tentoleena Land the parents are the children. Is not that odd ? Sometimes Christine may get used to your strange land and all the wonders that she sees; and if she ever does, and smiles at you, and pulls your face down close to hers and kisses you, why, that will be the sign by which you'll know she's coming to again and wants to talk; and so the first thing you must ask of her is to sing this little song she made of Tentoleena Land. Only the words of it can be given here (not half the beauty of the dainty song) for when you hear it, in the mar- velously faint, and low, and sweet, and tender, tinkling tongue of Tentoleena Land you will indeed be glad that the gracious fairy Fortune ever sent you Christine Braibry. So, since all the sounds in the melodious utterance of Ten- toleena Land are so exquisitely so chastely, rarely beautiful no earthly art may hope to reproduce them, you must, as yon here read the words, just shut your eyes and fancy that you hear little Christine Braibry singing this eerie song of hers : CHRISTINE BRAIBRY. 65 CHRISTINE'S SONG. UP in Tentoleena Land Tentoleena ! Tentoleena ! All the Dollies, hand in hand, Mina, Nainie, and Serena, Dance the Fairy fancy dances, With glad songs and starry glances, Lisping roundelays; and, after, Bird-like interludes of laughter Strewn and scattered o'er the lawn Their gilt sandals twinkle on Through light mists of silver sand Up in Tentoleena Land. Up in Tentoleena Land Tentoleena! Tentoleena! Blares the eerie Elfin band Trumpet, harp and concertina Larkspur bugle honeysuckle Cornet, with a quickstep chuckle In its golden throat; and,maybe, Lilies-of-the-valley they be Baby-silver-bells that chime Musically all the time, Tossed about from hand to hand Up in Tentoleena Land. 66 CHRISTINE BRAIBRY. Up in Tentoleena Land Tentoleena! Tentoleena! Dollies dark, and blonde and bland Sweet as muskrose or verbena- Sweet as moon-blown daffodillies, Or wave-jostled water-lilies Yearning to'rd the rose-mouths, ready Leaning o'er the river's eddy, Dance, and glancing fling to you, Through these lines you listen to, Kisses blown from lip and hand Out of Tentoleena Land ! THE SQUIRT GUN UNCLE MAKED ME. 67 THE SQUIRTGUN UNCLE MAKED ME. UNCLE Sidney, when he was here, Maked me a squirtgun out o' some Elder-bushes 'at growed out near Where was the brickyard 'way out clear To where the toll-gate come! So when we walked back home again, He maked it, out in our woodhouse where Was the old workbench, an' the old jack-plane, An' the old 'pokeshave, an' the tools ail lay'n 1st like he wants 'em there. He sawed it first with the old hand-saw; An' nen he peeled off the bark, an' got Some glass an' scraped it; an' told 'bout Pa, When he was a boy an' fooled his Ma, An' the whippin' 'at he caught. Nen Uncle Sidney, he took an' filed A' old arn ramrod; an' one o 1 the ends He screwed fast into the vise; an' smiled, Thinkin', he said, o' when he was a child, 'Fore him an' Pa wasmens, 68 THE SQUIRT GUN UNCLE MAKED ME. He punched out the peth, an' nen he put A plug in the end with a hole notched through; Nen took the old drawey-knife an' cut An' maked a handle 'at shoved clean shut But ist where yer hand held to. An' he wropt th'uther end with some string an' white Piece o' the sleeve of a' old tored shirt; An' nen he showed me to hold it tight, An' suck in the water an' work it right An' it 'ud ist squirt an' squirt! A HOME-MADE FAIRY-TALE. 69 A HOME-MADE FAIRY-TALE. BUD, come here to your Uncle a spell, And I'll tell you something you mustn't tell- For it's a secret and shore-nuff true, And maybe T oughtn't to tell it to you! But out in the garden, under the shade Of the apple-trees, where we romped and played Till the moon was up, and you thought I'd gone Fast asleep. That was all put on ! For I was a-watchin' something queer Coin' on there in the grass, my dear ! 'Way down deep in it, there I see A little dude-Fairy who winked at me, And snapped his ringers, and laughed as low And fine as the whine of a mus-kee-to ! I kept still watchin' him closer and I noticed a little guitar in his hand, Which he leant 'ginst a little dead bee and laid His cigarette down on a clean grass-blade; And then climbed up on the shell of a snail Carefully dusting his swallowtail And pulling up, by a waxed web-thread, This little guitar, you remember, I said ! And there he trinkled and trilled a tune "My Love, so Fair, Tans in the Moon !" 70 A HOME-MADE FAIRY-TALE. Till presently, out of the clover-top He seemed to be singing to, came, k'pop ! The purtiest, daintiest Fairy face In all this world, or any place ! Then the little ser'nader waved his hand, As much as to say, "We'll excuse you!" and I heard, as I squinted my eyelids to, A kiss like the drip of a drop of dew ! THE YOUTHFUL PRESS. 71 THE YOUTHFUL PRESS. LITTLE Georgle Tempers, he Printed some fine cards for me; But his press had "J" for James By no means the choice of names. Yet it's proper, none the less, That his little printing-press Should be taught that James for "J" Always is the better way. For, if left to its own whim, Next time it might call me "Jim," Then THE CULTURED PRESS would be Shocked at such a liberty. Therefore, little presses all Should be trained, while they are small, To develop taste in these Truths that shape our destines. 72 THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN. THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN. THAT- AIR young-un ust to set By the crick here day by day. Watch the swallers dip and wet Their slim wings and skoot away; Watch these little snipes along The low banks tilt up and down 'Mongst the reeds, and hear the song Of the bullfrogs croakin' roun': Ust to set here in the sun Watchin' things, and listenun, Peared-like, mostly to the roar Of the dam below, er to That-air riffle nigh the shore Jes' acrost from me and you. Ust to watch him from the door Of the mill. 'Ud rigg him out With a fishin'-pole and line Dig worms fer him nigh about Jes' spit on his bait! but he Never keered much, ? pearantly, To ketch fish ! He druther fine Out some sunny place, and set Watchin' things, with droopy head. And "a-listenun," he said "Kindo' listenun above THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN. 73 The old crick to what the wet Warter was a-talkin' of!" Jevver hear sich talk as that? Bothered Mother more'n me What the child was cipher'n at. Come home onc't and said 'at he Knowed what the snakefeeders thought When they grit their wings; and knowed Turkle-talk, when bubbles riz Over where the old roots growed Where he th'owed them pets o' his Little turripuns he caught In the County Ditch and packed In his pockets days and days ! Said he knowed what goslin's quacked Could tell what the killdees sayes, And grasshoppers, when they lit In the crick and "minnies" bit Off their legs. "But, blame!" sayes he, Sorto' lookin' clean above Mother's head and on through me (And them eyes ! I see 'em yet !) "Blame!" he says, "ef I kin see, Er make out, jes' what the wet Warter is a-talkin' of!" 74 THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN. Made me nervous! Mother, though, Said best not to scold the child The Good Bein' knowed. And so We was only riconciled When he'd be asleep And then, Time, and time, and time again, We've watched over him, you know Her a-sayin' nothin' jes' Kindo' smoothin' back his hair, And, all to herself, I guess, Studyin' up some kind o' prayer She ain't tried yet. Onc't she said, Cotin' Scriptur', " 'He,' " says she, In a solemn whisper, " 'He Givuth His beloved sleep !' " And jes' then I heerd the rain Strike the shingles, as I turned Res'less to'rds the wall again. Pity strong men dast to weep ! 'Specially when up above Thrash! the storm comes down, and you Feel the midnight plum soaked through Heart and soul, and wunder, too, What the warter's talkin' of! Found his hat way down below Hinchman's Ford. 'Ves" Anders he THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN. 75 Rid and fetched it. Mother she Went wild over that, you know Hugged it! kissed it! Turribul! My hopes then was all gone too. . . Brung him in, with both hands full O' warter-lilies 'peared-like new- Bloomed fer him renched whiter still In the clear rain mixin' fine And finer in the noon sunshine. . . Winders of the old mill looked On him where the hill-road crooked In on through the open gate. . . Laid him on the old settee On the porch there. Heerd the great Roarin' dam acrost and we If eerd a crane cry in amongst The sycamores and then a dove Cutterin' on the mill-roof then Heerd the crick, and thought again, "Now what's it a-talkin' of?" 76 BABY^S DYING. BABY'S DYING. BABY'S dying, Do not stir Let her spirit lightly float Through the sighing Lips of her Still the murmur in the throat: Let the moan of grief be curbed Baby must not be disturbed ! Baby's dying, Do not stir Let her pure life lightly swim Through the sighing Lips of her Out from us and up to HIM Let her leave us with that smile Kiss and miss her after while. GRANNY'S COME TO OUR HOUSE. 77 GRANNY'S COME TO OUR HOUSE. RANNY'S come to our house ! An' ho ! my lawzy-daisy ! All the childern round the place Is ist a-runnin' crazy ! Fetched a cake fer little Jake, An' fetched a pie fer Nanny, An' fetched a pear fer all the pack 'At runs to kiss their Granny! Lucy Ellen's in her lap, An' Wade, an' Silas Walker, Both's a-ridin' on her foot, An' Polios on the rocker; An' Marthy's twins, from Aunt Mai-inn's, An' little Orphant Annie, All's a-eatin' gingerbread An' giggle-un at Granny! Tells us all the Fairy tales Ever thought er wundered An' 'bundance o' other stories Bet she knows a himderd ! Bob's the one fer "Whittington," An' "Golden Locks" fer Fanny! Hear 'em laugh an' clap their hands, Listenun' at Granny ! 78 GRANNY'S COME TO OUR HOUSE. "Jack the Giunt-Killer" 's good An' "Bean-Stalk" 's another So's the one of "Cinderell' " And her old godmother; That-un's best of all the rest Bestest one of any, Where the mices scampers home, Like we runs to Granny ! Granny's come to our house ! Ho! my lawzy -daisy! All the childern round the place Is ist a-runnin' crazy! Fetched a cake fer little Jake, An' fetched a pie fer Nanny, An' fetched a pear fer all the pack 'At runs to kiss their Granny! THE BOYS. 79 THE BOYS. WHERE are they? the friends of my childhood en- chanted The clear, laughing eyes looking back in my own, And the warm, chubby fingers my palms have so wanted, As when we raced over Pink pastures of clover, And mocked the quail's whir and the bumble-bee's drone? Have the breezes of time blown their blossomy faces Forever adrift down the years that are flown? Am I never to see them romp back to their places, Where over the meadow, In sunshine and shadow, The meadow-larks trill, and the bumble-bees drone? Where are they? Ah ! dim in the dust lies the clover; The whippoorwill's call has a sorrowful tone, And the dove's I have wept at it over and over; I want the glad lustre Of youth, and the cluster Of faces asleep where the bumble-bees drone! So THE STEPMOTHER. THE STEPMOTHER. FIRST she come to our house, Tommy run and hid; And Emily and Bob and me We cried jus' like we did When Mother died, and we all said 'At we all wisht 'at we was dead ! And Nurse she couldn't stop us, And Pa he tried and tried, We sobbed and shook and wouldn't look, But only cried and cried; And nen Someone we couldn't jus' Tell who was cryin' same as us ! Our Stepmother ! Yes, it was her, Her arms around us all 'Cause Tom slid down the bannister And peeked in from the hall. And we all love her, too, because She's purt'nigh good at Mother was! OLD MAWS NURSERY RHYME. 81 OLD MAN'S NURSERY RHYME. IN THE jolly winters Of the long-ago, It was not so cold as now O! No! No! Then, as I remember, Snowballs to eat Were as good as apples now, And every bit as sweet ! II. In the jolly winters Of the dead-and-gone, Bub was warm as summer, With his red mitts on, Just in his little waist- And-pants all together, Who ever heard him growl About cold weather? 82 OLD MAN'S NURSER Y RHYME. in. In the jolly winters of the long-ago Was it half so cold as now? O! No! No! Who caught his death o' cold, Making prints of men Flat-backed in snow that now's Twice as cold again? IV. In the jolly winters Of the dead-and-gone, Startin' out rabbit-huntin' Early as the dawn, Who ever froze his fingers, Ears, heels, or toes, Or'd a cared if he had? Nobody knows ! v. Nights by the kitchen-stove, Shellin' white and red Corn in the skillet, and Sleepin' four abed ! Ah ! the jolly winters Of the long-ago ! We were not as old as now O! No! No! THE SONG OF YESTERDAY. 83 THE SONG OF YESTERDAY. BUT yesterday I looked away O'er happy lands, where sunshine lay In golden blots, Inlaid with spots Of shade and wild forget-me-nots. And, cool and sweet, My naked feet Found dewy pathways through the wheat; And out again Where, down the lane, The dust was dimpled with the rain. But yesterday I heard the lay Of summer birds, when I, as they With breast and wing, All quivering With life and love, could only sing. My head was leant Where, with it, blent A maiden's, o'er her instrument, While all the night, From vale to height, We filled with echoes of delight. 84 THE SONG OF YESTERDA Y And all our dreams Were lit with gleams Of that lost land of reedy streams, Along whose brim Forever swim Pan's lilies, laughing up at him. But yesterday! . . O blooms of May, And summer roses Where-away? O stars above; And lips of love, And all the honeyed sweets thereof! O lad and lass, And orchard-pass, And briered lane, and daisied grass ! O gleam and gloom, And woodland bloom, And breezy breaths of all perfume ! No more for me Nor mine shall be Thy raptures save in memory, No more no more Till through the Door Of Glory gleam the days of yore. LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE. 85 LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE. LITTLE Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay, An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away, An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep, An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'- keep; An' all us other childern, when the supper things is done, We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about, An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you Ef you Don't Watch Out! Onc't they was a little boy wouldn't say his prayers, An' when he went to bed at night, away up stairs, His Mammy heered him holler, an' his Daddy heered him bawl, An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wasn't there at all! An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press, 86 LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE. An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I guess; But all they ever found was thist his pants an' roundabout: An' the Gobble-uns '11 git you Ef you Don't Watch Out! An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin, An' make fun of everyone, an' all her blood an' kin; An' onc't, when they was "company," an' ole folks was there, She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care ! An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide, They was two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side, An' they snatched her through the ceilin' ? fore she knowed what she's about ! An' the Gobble-uns'll git you Ef you Don't Watch Out! An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue, An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes -woo-oo! An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray, An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away, You better mind yer parents, an' yer teachers fond an' dear, LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE. 87 An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear, An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about, Er the Gobble-uns'll git you Ef you Don't Watch Out! BABYHOOD. BABYHOOD. HEIGH-HO! Babyhood! Tell me where you linger ! Let's toddle home again, for we have gone astray; Take this eager hand of mine and lead me by the finger Back to the lotus-lands of the far-away! Turn back the leaves of life. Don't read the story. Let's find the pictures, and fancy all the rest; We can fill the written pages with a brighter glory Than old Time, the story-teller, at his very best. Turn to the brook where the honeysuckle tipping O'er its vase of perfume spills it on the breeze, And the bee and humming-bird in ecstacy are sipping From the fairy-flagons of the blooming locust trees. Turn to the lane where we used to "teeter-totter," Printing little foot-palms in the mellow mould Laughing at the lazy cattle wading in the water Where the ripples dimple round the buttercups of gold. Where the dusky turtle lies basking on the gravel Of the sunny sand-bar in the middle tide, And the ghostly dragonfly pauses in his travel To rest like a blossom where the water-lily died. Heigh-ho! Babyhood! Tell me where you linger ! Let's toddle home again, for we have gone astray; Take this eager hand of mine and lead me by the finger Back to the lotus-lands of the far-away ! M MAX AND JIM. 89 MAX AND JIM. AX an' Jim, They're each uthers' Fat an' slim Little bruthers. Max is thin, An' Jim, the fac's is, Fat agin' As little Max is! Their Pa 'lowed He don't know whuther He's most proud Of one er th'uther! Their Ma says They're both so sweet-'w !- That she guess She'll haf to eat 'em ! 90 THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE, o THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE. II THE Circus-Day parade! How the bugles played and played ! And how the glossy horses tossed their flossy manes, and neighed, As the rattle and the rhyme of the tenor-drummer's time Filled all the hungry hearts of us with melody sublime ! How the grand band-wagon shone with a splendor all its own, And glittered with a glory that our dreams had never known ! And how the boys behind, high and low of every kind, Marched in unconscious capture, with a rapture undefined! How the horsemen, two and two, with their plumes of white and blue, And crimson, gold and purple, nodding by at me and you, Waved the banners that they bore, as the Knights in days of yore, Till our glad eyes gleamed and glistened like the spangles that they wore! How the graceless-graceful stride of the elephant was eyed, And the capers of the little horse that cantered at his side ! How the shambling camels, tame to the plaudits of their fame, With listless eyes came silent, masticating as they came. THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE. 91 How the cages jolted past, with each wagon battened fast, And the mystery within it only hinted of at last From the little grated square in the rear, and nosing there The snout of some strange animal that sniffed the outer air ! And, last of all, The Clown, making mirth for all the town, With his lips curved ever upward and his eyebrows ever down, And his chief attention paid to the little mule that played A tattoo on the dashboard with his heels, in the parade. Oh ! the Circus-Day parade ! How the bugles played and played ! And how the glossy horses tossed their flossy manes and neighed, As the rattle and the rhyme of the tenor-drummer's time Filled all the hungry hearts of us with melody sublime! 92 THE OLD HAY-MOW. THE OLD HAY-MOW. THE Old Hay-mow's the place to play Fer boys, when it's a rainy day! I good-'eal ruther be up there Than down in town, er anywhere ! When I play in our stable-loft, The good old hay's so dry an' soft, An' feels so fine, an' smells so sweet, I 'most ferget to go an' eat. An' one time onc't I did ferget To go 'tel dinner was all et, An' they had short-cake an' Bud he Hogged up the piece Ma saved fer me! Nen I wo'nt let him play no more In our hay-mow where I keep store An' got hen-eggs to sell, an' shoo The cackle-un old hen out, too ! An' nen, when Aunty she was here A-visitun from Rensselaer, An' bringed my little cousin, he Can come up there an' play with me. THE OLD HAY-MOW. 93 But, after while when Bud he bets 'At I can't turn no summersetts, I let him come up, ef he can Ac' ha'f-way like a gentleman! 94 JOHN TARKINGTON JAMESON. JOHN TARKINGTON JAMESON. JOHN JAMESON, my jo John! Ye're bonnie wee an' sma'; Your ee*s the morning violet, Wi' tremblin' dew an' a'; Your smile's the gowden simmer-sheen, Wi' glintin' pearls aglow Atween the posies o' your lips, John Jameson, my jo ! Ye hae the faither's braidth o 1 brow, An' synes his look benign Whiles he hings musin' ower the burne, Wi' leestless hook an' line; Ye hae the mither's mou' an' cheek, An' denty chin but O ! It's maist ye're like your ain braw sel', John Jameson, my jo ! John Jameson, my jo John, Though, wi' sic luvers twain, Ye dance far yont your whustlin' frien' Wha laggart walks his lane, Be mindet, though he naps his last Whaur kirkyird thistles grow, His ghaist shall caper on wi' you, John Jameson, my jo ! DWAINIE. 95 DWAINIE A SPRITE SONG. ODwainie ! My Dwainie ! The Lurloo ever sings, A tremor in his flossy crest And in his glossy wings: And Dwainie ! My Dwainie ! The Winnowelvers call; But Dwainie hides in Spirkland And answers not at all. The Teeper twitters Dwainie The Tcheucker, on his spray, Teeters up and down the wind And will not fly away; And Dwainie ! My Dwainie ! The drowsy Covers drawl; But Dwainie hides in Spirkland And answers not at all. O Dwainie! My Dwainie! The breezes hold their breath The stars are pale as blossoms, And the night as still as death; And Dwainie ! My Dwainie ! The fainting echoes fall; But Dwainie hides in Spirkland And answers not at all. 96 GUINEYPIGS. GUINEYPIGS. UINEYPIGS is awful cute, ith their little trimbly snoot Sniffin' at the pussly that We bring 'em to nibble at. Looks like they're so clean an' white, An' so dainty an' polite, They could eat like you an' me When they's company! Tiltin' down the clover-tops Till they spill, an' over drops The sweet morning dew Don't you Think they might have napkins, too? Ef a guineypig was big As a shore-at? -certain pig, Nen he wouldn't ac' so fine When he come to dine. Nen he'd chomp his jaws an' eat Things out in the dirty street, Dirt an' all ! An' nen lay down In mudholes an' waller roun' ! So the guineypigs is best, 'Cause they're nice an' tidiest; They eat 'most like you an' me When they's company ! BUSCH AND TOMMY, 97 BUSCH AND TOMMY. LITTLE BUSCH and Tommy Hays- Small the theme, but large the praise,- For two braver brothers, Of such toddling years and size, Bloom of face, and blue of eyes, Never trampled soldier-wise On the rights of mothers! Even boldly facing their Therapeutic father's air Of complex abstraction, But to kindle kindlier gaze, Wake more smiles and gracious ways Ay, nor find in all their days Ampler satisfaction ! Hail ye, then, with chirp and cheer. All wan patients, waiting here Bitterer medications ! Busch and Tommy, tone us, too. How our life-blood leaps anew, Under loving touch of you And your ministrations ! 98 LITTLE MAHALA ASHCRAFT. LITTLE MAHALA ASHCRAFT. 4 4 T ITTLE H ALY ! Little Haly !" cheeps the robin in the 1 ' tree; "Little Haly!" sighs the clover; "Little Haly!" moans the bee; "Little Haly! Little Haly!" calls the kill-dee at twilight; And the katydids and crickets hollers "Haly" all the night. The sunflowers and the hollyhawks droops over the garden fence; The old path down the garden walks still holds her footprints' dents; And the well-sweep's swingin' bucket seems to wait fer her to come And start it on its wortery errant down the old bee-gum. The bee-hives all is quiet, and the little Jersey steer, When any one comes nigh it, acts so lonesome-like and queer; And the little Banty chickens kind o' cutters faint and low, Like the hand that now was feediri' 'em was one they didn't know. They's sorrow in the wavin' leaves of all the apple-trees; And sorrow in the harvest-sheaves, and sorrow in the breeze; And sorrow in the twitter of the swallers 'round the shed; And all the song her red-bird sings is "Little Haly's dead!" LITTLE MAHALA ASHCRAFT. 99 The medder 'pears to miss her, and the pathway through the grass, Whare the dewdrops ust to kiss her little bare feet as she passed; And the old pin in the gate-post seems to kindo'-sorto' doubt That Haly's little sunburnt hand'll ever pull it out. Did her father er her mother ever love her more'n me? Er her sisters er her brother prize her love more tenderly? I question and what answer? only tears, and tears alone, And ev'ry neghbor's eyes is full o' tear-drops as my own. "Little Haly! Little Haly!" cheeps the robin in the tree; "Little Haly!" sighs the clover; "Little Haly!" moans the bee; "Little Haly! Little Haly!" calls the kill-dee at twilight; And the katydids and crickets hollers "Haly" all the night. ioo BABE HERRICK. BABE HERRICK. AS a rosebud might, in dreams, Mid some lilies lie, meseems Thou, pink youngling, on the breast Of thy mother slumberest. I-, THE LAND OF THUS-AND-SO. 101 THE LAND OF THUS-AND-SO. 4 4 TJ O W would Willie like to go A! To the Land of Thus-and-So? Everything is proper there All the children comb their hair Smoother than the fur of cats, Or the nap of high silk hats; Every face is clean and white As a lily washed in light; Never vaguest soil or speck Found on forehead, throat or neck Every little crimpled ear, In and out, as pure and clear As the cherry-blossom's blow In the Land of Thus-and-So. "Little boys that never fall Down the stairs, or cry at all Doing nothing to repent, Watchful and obedient; Never hungry, nor in haste Tidy shoestrings always laced; Never button rudely torn THE LAND OF THUS-AND-SO. From its fellows all unworn; Knickerbockers always new Ribbon, tie, and collar, too; Little watches, worn like men, Always promptly half-past- 10 Just precisely right, you know, For the Land of Thus-and-So! "And the little babies there Give no one the slightest care Nurse has not a thing to do But be happy and sigh 'Boo !' While Mamma just nods, and knows Nothing but to doze and doze: Never litter round the grate; Never lunch or dinner late; Never any household din Peals without or rings within Baby coos nor laughing calls On the stairs or through the halls Just Great Hushes to and fro Pace the Land of Thus-and-So ! "Oh! the Land of Thus-and-So! Isn't it delightful, though?" "Yes," lisped Willie, answering me Somewhat slow and doubtfully THE LAND OF THUS-AND-SO. 103 "Must be awful nice, but I Ruther wait till by and by 'Fore I go there maybe when I be dead I'll go there then. But" The troubled little face Closer pressed in my embrace "Le's don't never ever go To the Land of Thus-and-So !" 104 GRANDFATHER S 'QUEERS. GRANDFATHER SQUEERS. 46 IV /I Y grandfather Squeers," said The Raggedy-Man, **1 As he solemnly lighted his pipe .and began "The most indestructable man, for his years, And the grandest on earth, was my grandfather Squeers ! "lie said, when he rounded his three-score-and-ten, 'I've the hang of it now and can do it again !' "lie had frozen his heels so repeatedly, he Could tell by them just what the weather would be; "And would laugh and declare, 'while the Almanac would Most falsely prognosticate, he never could!' "Such a hale constitution had grandfather Squeers That, 'though he'd used "navy" for sixty odd years, "He still chewed a dimeV worth six days of the week. While the seventh he passed with a chew in each cheek : "Then my grandfather Squeers had a singular knack Of sitting around on the small of his back, GRANDFATHER S QUEERS. 105 "With his legs like a letter Y stretched o'er the grate Wherein 'twas his custom to ex-pec-tor-ate. "He was fond of tobacco in manifold ways, And would sit on the door-step, of sunshiney days, 9 "And smoke leaf-tobacco he'd raised strictly for The pipe he'd used all through The Mexican War." And The Raggedy Man said, refilling the bowl Of his own pipe and leisurely picking a coal From the stove with his finger and thumb, "You can see What a tee-nacious habit he's fastened on me ! "And my grandfather Squeers took a special delight In pruning his corns every Saturday night "With a horn-handled razor, whose edge he excused By saying 'twas one that his grandfather used; "And, though deeply etched in the haft of the same Was the ever-euphonious Wostenholm's name, "'Twas my grandfather's custom to boast of the blade As 'A Seth Thomas razor the best ever made!' 106 GRANDFATHER SQUEERS. "No Old Settlers' Meeting, or Pioneers' Fair, Was complete without grandfather Squeers in the chair, "To lead off the programme by telling folks how 'lie used to shoot deer where the Court House stands now' "How 'he felt, of a truth, to live over the past, When the country was wild and unbroken and vast, "That the little log cabin was just plenty fine For himself, his companion, and fambly of nine ! "When they didn't have even a pump, or a tin, But drunk surface-water, year out and year in, "From the old-fashioned gourd that was sweeter, by odds, Than the goblets of gold at the lips of the gods!' " Then The Raggedy Man paused to plaintively say It was clockin' along to'rcls the close of the day And he'd ought to get back to his work on the lawn, Then dreamily blubbered his pipe and went on: "His teeth were imperfect my grandfather owned That he couldn't eat oysters unless they were 'boned j 1 GRANDFATHER S QUEERS. ioj "And his eyes were so weak, and so feeble of sight, He couldn't sleep with them unless, every night, "lie put on his spectacles all he possessed, Three pairs with his goggles on top of the rest. "And my grandfather always, retiring at night, Blew down the lamp-chimney to put out the light; "Then he'd curl up on edge like a shaving, in bed, And puff and smoke pipes in his sleep, it is said: "And would snore oftentimes, as the legends relate, Till his folks were wrought up to a terrible state, "Then he'd snort, and rear up, and roll over; and there, In the subsequent hush they could hear him chew air. "And so glaringly bald was the top of his head That many's the time he has musingly said, "As his eyes journeyed o'er its reflex in the glass, 'I must set out a few signs of Keep Off the Grass!" 1 "So remarkably deaf was my grandfather Squeers That he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears "To even hear thunder and oftentimes then lie was forced to request it to thunder again." io8 THE LITTLE TINY KICKSHAW. THE LITTLE TINY KICKSHAW. OTHE little tiny kickshaw that Hither sent tae me, 'Tis sweeter than the sugar-plum that reepens on the tree, Wi' denty flavorin's o' spice an' musky rosemarie, The little tiny kickshaw that Hither sent tae me. 'Tis luscious wi' the stalen tang o' fruits frae ower the sea, An' e'en its fragrance gars we laugh wi' langin' lip an' ee, Till a' its frazen sheen o' white maun melten hinnie be Sae weel I luve the kickshaw that Hither sent tae me. O I luve the tiny kickshaw, an' I smack my lips wi' glee, Aye mickle do I luve the taste o' sic a luxourie, But maist I luve the luvein' han's that could the giftie gie O' the little tiny kickshaw that Hither sent tae me. THE L UG UBRIO US WHING- WHANG. 109 THE LUGUBRIOUS WHING-WHANG. THE rhyme o' The Raggedy Man's 'at's best Is Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs,- Cause that-un's the strangest of all o' the rest, An' the worst to learn, an' the last one guessed, An' the funniest one, an' the foolishest. Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! I don't know what in the world it means Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! An' nen when I tell him I don't, he leans Like he was a-grindin' on some machines An' says: Ef I dorft, w'y, I don't know bcans\ Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! Out on the margin of Moonshine Land, Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! Out where the Whing- Whang loves to stand, Writing his name with his tail in the sand, And swiping it out with his oogerish hand; Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! THE L UG US RIO US WHING- WHANG. Is it the gibber of Gungs or Keeks? Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs ! Or what is the sound that the Whing- Whang seeks?- Crouching low by the winding creeks, And holding his breath for weeks and weeks! Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs ! Aroint him the wraithest of wraithly things ! Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs ! 'Tis a fair Whing- Whangess, with phosphor rings, And bridal-jewels of fangs and stings; And she sits and as sadly and softly sings As the mildewed whir of her own dead wings, Tickle me, Dear, Tickle me here, Tickle me, Love, in me Lonesome Ribs! LA WYER AND CHILD. LAWYER AND CHILD. HOW large was Alexander, father, That parties designate The historic gentleman as rather Inordinately great? Why, son, to speak with conscientious Regard for history, Waiving all claims, of course,to heights pretentious,- About the size of me. 112 THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN. THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN. OTHE South Wind and the Sun ! How each loved the other one Full of fancy full of folly- Full of jollity and fun! How they romped and ran about, Like two boys when school is out, With glowing face, and lisping lip, Low laugh, and lifted shout ! And the South Wind he was dressed With a ribbon round his breast That floated, flapped and fluttered In a riotous unrest; And a drapery of mist, From the shoulder and the wrist Flowing backward with the motion Of the waving hand he kissed. And the Sun had on a crown Wrought of gilded thistledown, And a scarf of velvet vapor, And a ravel ed-rainbow gown; And his tinsel-tangled hair, Tossed and lost upon the air, Was glossier and flossier Than any anywhere. THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN. 113 And the South Wind's eyes were two Little dancing drops of dew, As he puffed his cheeks, and pursed his lips, And blew and blew and blew ! And the Sun's like diamond-stone, Brighter yet than ever known, As he knit his brows and held his breath, And shone and shone and shone ! And this pair of merry fays Wandered through the summer days; Arm-in-arm they went together Over heights of morning haze Over slanting slopes of lawn They went on and on and on, Where the daisies looked like star-tracks Trailing up and down the dawn. And where'er they found the top Of a wheat-stalk droop and lop, They chucked it underneath the chin And praised the lavish crop, Till it lifted with the pride Of the heads it grew beside, And then the South Wind and the Sun Went onward satisfied. 114 THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN. Over meadow-lands they tripped, Where the dandelions dipped In crimson foam of clover-bloom, And dripped and dripped and dripped ! And they clinched the bumble-stings, Gauming honey on their wings, And bundling them in lily-bells, With maudlin murmurings. And the humming-bird, that hung Like a jewel up among The tilted honeysuckle-horns, They mesmerized and swung In the palpitating air, Drowsed with odors strange and rare, And, with whispered laughter, slipped away, And left him hanging there. And they braided blades of grass Where the truant had to pass; And they wriggled through the rushes And the reeds of the morass, Where they danced, in rapture sweet, O'er the leaves that laid a street Of undulant mosaic for The touches of their feet. THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN. 115 By the brook with mossy brink, Where the cattle came to drink, They trilled and piped and whistled With the thrush and bobolink, Till the kine, in listless pause, Switched their tails in mute applause, With lifted heads, and dreamy eyes, And bubble-dripping jaws. And where the melons grew, Streaked with yellow, green and blue, These jolly sprites went wandering Through spangled paths of dew; And the melons, here and there, They made love to, everywhere, Turning their pink souls to crimson With caresses fond and fair. Over orchard -walls they went, Where the fruited boughs were bent Till they brushed the sward beneath them Where the shine and shadow blent; And the great green pear they shook Till the sallow hue forsook Its features, and the gleam of gold Laughed out in every look. n6 THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN. And they stroked the downy cheek Of the peach, and smoothed it sleek, And flushed it into splendor; And, with many an elfish freak, Gave the russet's rust a wipe Prankt the rambo with a stripe, And the winesap blushed its reddest As they spanked the pippins ripe. Through the woven ambuscade That the twining vines had made, They found the grapes, in clusters, Drinking up the shine and shade Plumpt, like tiny skins of wine, With a vintage so divine That the tongue of Fancy tingled With the tang of muscadine. And the golden-banded bees, Droning o'er the flowery leas, They bridled, reined, and rode away Across the fragrant breeze, Till in hollow oak and elm They had groomed and stabled them In waxen stalls that oozed with dews Of rose and lily-stem. THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN. 117 Where the dusty highway leads, High above the wayside weeds, They sowed the air with butterflies Like blooming flower-seeds, Till the dull grasshopper sprung Half a man's-height up, and hung Tranced in the heat, with whirring wings, And sung and sung and sung! And they loitered, hand in hand, Where the snipe along the sand Of the river ran to meet them As the ripple meets the land, Till the dragonfly, in light Gauzy armor, burnished bright, Came tilting down the waters In a wild, bewildered flight. And they heard the killdee's call, And afar, the waterfall, But the rustle of a falling leaf They heard above it all; And the trailing willow crept Deeper in the tide that swept The leafy shallop to the shore, And wept and wept and wept ! ii8 THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN. And the fairy vessel veered From its moorings tacked and steered For the center of the current Sailed away and disappeared: And the burthen that it bore From the long-enchanted shore "Alas! the South Wind and the Sun!" I murmur evermore. For the South Wind and the Sun, Each so loves the other one, For all his jolly folly, And frivolity and fun, That our love for them they weigh As their fickle fancies may, And when at last we love them most, They laugh and sail away. THE FUNNIEST THING. 119 THE FUNNIEST THING IN THE WORLD. THE funniest thing in the world, I know, Is watchin' the monkeys 'at's in the show ! Jumpin' an' runnin' an' racin' roun', 'Way up the top o' the pole; nen down! First they're here, an' nen they're there, An' ist a'most any an' everywhere! Screechin' an' scratchin' wherever they go, They're the funniest thing in the world, I know! They're the funniest thing in the world, I think :- Funny to watch 'em eat an' drink; Funny to watch 'em a-watchin' us, An' actin' 'most like grown folks does! Funny to watch 'em p'tend to be Skeerd at their tail 'at they happen to see; But the funniest thing in the world they do Is never to laugh, like me an' you I CRADLE SONG. CRADLE SONG. THE Maple strews the embers of its leaves O'er the laggard swallows nestled 'neath the eaves; And the moody cricket falters in his cry Baby-bye ! And the lid of night is falling o'er the sky Baby-bye! The lid of night is falling o'er the sky ! The rose is lying pallid, and the cup Of the frosted calla-lily folded up; And the breezes through the garden sob and sigh Baby-bye !- O'er the sleeping blooms of summer where they lie Baby-bye !- O'er the sleeping blooms of summer where they lie! Yet, Baby O my Baby, for your sake This heart of mine is ever wide awake, And my love may never droop a drowsy eye Baby-bye ! Till your own are wet above me when I die Baby-bye ! Till your own are wet above me when I die. LITTLE JOHNTS^S CHRISM US. 121 LITTLE JOHNTS'S CHRISMUS. WE got it up a-purpose, jes' fer little Johnts, you know; His mother was so pore an' all, an' had to manage so Jes 1 bein' a War-widder, an' her pension mighty slim, ' She'd take in weavin', er work out, er anything fer him! An' little Johnts was ptmy-like but law, the nerve he had! You'd want to kindo' pity him, but couldn't very bad Ilis pants o' army-blanket an' his coat o' faded blue Kep' hintin' of his father like, an' pity wouldn't do! So we collogued together, onc't, one wintertime, 'at we Jes' me an' Mother an' the girls, an' Wilse, John-Jack an' Free Would jine an' git up little Johnts, by time 'at Chrismus come, Some sorto' doin's, don't you know, 'at would su'prise him some. An' so, all on the quiet, Mother she turns in an' gits Some blue-janes cuts an' makes a suit; an' then sets down an' knits A pair o' little galluses to go 'long with the rest An' puts in a red-flannen back, an' buckle on the vest. 122 LITTLE JOHNT&S CHRISMUS. The little feller'd be'n so much around our house, you see, An' be'n sich he'p to her an' all, an' handy as could be, 'At Mother couldn't do too much fer little Johnts No, Sir! She ust to jes' declare 'at "he was meat-an'-drink to her?" An' Piney, Lide, an' Madeline they watched their chance an' rid To Fountaintown with Lijey's folks; an' bought a book, they did, O' fairy-tales, with pictur's in; an' got a little pair O' red-top boots 'at John- Jack said he'd be'n a-pricen there. An' Lide got him a little sword, an' Madaline, a drum; An' shootin'-crackers Lawsy-day ! an' they're so dangersome ! An' Piney, ever'time the rest 'ud buy some other toy, She'd take an' turn in then an' buy more candy fer the boy ! "Well," thinks-says-I,when they got back, "your pocketbooks is dry!" But little Johnts was there hisse'f that afternoon, so I Well, all of us kep' mighty mum, tel we got him away By tellin' him be shore an' come to-morry Chrismus Day An' fetch his mother 'long with him ! An' how he scud acrost The fields his tow-head, in the dusk, jes' like a streak o' frost ! LITTLE JOHNT&S CHRISM US. 123 His comfert fluttern as he run an' old Tige, don't you know, A-jumpin' high fer rabbits an' a-plowin' up the snow ! It must a-be'n 'most ten that night afore we got to bed With Wilse an' John-Jack he'ppin' us; an' Freeman in the shed, An' Lide out with the lantern while he trimmed the Chrismus- tree Out of a little scrub-oak-top 'at suited to a "T !" All night I dreamp' o' hearin' things a-skulkin' round the place An' "Ole Kriss," with his whiskers off, an' freckles on his face An' reindeers, shaped like shavin'-hosses at the cooper-shop, A-stickin' down the chimbly, with their heels out at the top ! By time 'at Mother got me up 'twas plum' daylight an' more The front yard full o' neighbors all a-crowdin' round the door, With Johnts's mother leadin'; yes an' little Johnts hisse'f, Set up on Freeman's shoulder, like a jug up on the she'f ! Of course I can't describe it when they all got in to where We'd conjered up the Chrismus-tree an' all the fixin's there ! Fer all the shouts o' laughture clappin' hands, an' crackin' jokes, Was heap o' kissin' goin' on amongst the women-folks: 124 LITTLE JOHNT&S CHRISM US. Fer, lo-behold-ye ! there they had that young-un! An' his chin A-wobblin'-like; an', shore enough, at last he started in An' sich another bellerin', in all my mortal days, I never heered, er 'spect to hear, in woe's app'inted ways! An' Mother grabs him up an' says: "It's moreVi he can bear It's all too snddent fer the child, an' too su'prisin' ! There!' 1 '' "Oh, no it ain't" sobbed little Johnts "I ain't su'prised but I'm A-cryin' 'cause I watched you all, an' knowed it all the time!" D O WN AR O UND THE RI VER. 1 2 5 DOWN AROUND THE RIVER. NOON-TIME an' June-time, down around the river! Have to furse with 'Lizey Ann butlawzy!! fergiveher! Drives me off the place, an' says 'at all 'at she's a-wishin', Land o' gracious! time'll come I'll git enough o' fishin' ! Little Dave, a-choppin' wood, never 'pears to notice; Don't know where she's hid his hat, er keerin' where his coat is, Specalatin', more'n like, he haint a goin' to mind me, An' guessin' where, say twelve o'clock, a feller'd likely find me! Noon-time an' June-time, down around the river ! Clean out o' sight o' home, an' skulkin' under kivver Of the sycamores, jack-oaks, an' swamp-ash an' ellum Idies all so jumbled up, you kin hardly tell 'em ! Tired, you know, but loviit 1 it, an' smilin' jes' to think 'at Any sweeter tiredness you'd fairly want to drink it ! Tired o' fishin' tired o' fun line out slack an' slacker- All you want in all the world's a little more tobacker ! 1 26 DO WN AR O UND THE RIVER. Hungry, but a-hidin" 1 it, er jes' a-not a-keerin': King-fisher gittin' up an' skootin' out o' hearin'; Snipes on the t'other side, where the County Ditch is, Wadin' up an' down the aidge like they'd rolled their britches ! Old turkle on the root kindo-sorto drappin' Intoo th' worter like de don't know how it happen ! Worter, shade an' all so mixed, don't know which you'd orter Say; th' worter in the shadder shadder in the worter! Somebody hollerin' 'way around the bend in Upper Fork where yer eye kin jes' ketch the endin' Of the shiney wedge o' wake some muss-rat's a-makin' With that pesky nose o' his ! Then a sniff o' bacon, Corn-bread an' 'dock-greens an' little Dave a-shinnin' 'Crost the rocks an' mussel-shells, a-limpin' an' a-grinnin', With yer dinner fer ye, an' a blessin' from the giver, Noon-time an' June-time down around the river ! THE BOYS' CANDIDATE. 127 THE BOYS' CANDIDATE. LAS' time 'at Uncle Sidney come, He bringed a watermelon home An' half the boys in town Come taggin' after him. An' he Says, when we et it, ''Gracious me! 'S the boy-house fell down?" 128 THE BUMBLE-BEE. THE BUMBLE-BEE. YOU better not fool with a Bumbee-bee ! Ef you don't think they can sting you'll see! They're lazy to look at, an' kindo' go Buzzin' an' bummin' aroun' so slow, An' ac" so slouchy an' all fagged out, Danglin' their legs as they drone about The hollyhawks 'at they can't climb in ' 'Ithout ist a-tumble-un out agin ! Wunst I watched one climb clean 'way In a jim'son-blossom, I did, one day, An' I ist grabbed it an' nen let go An' "Ooh-ooh! Honey! I told ye so!" Says The Raggedy Man; an' he ist run An' pullt out the stinger, an' don't laugh none, An' says: "They has ben folks, I guess, 'At thought I wuz predjudust, more er less, Yit I still muntain 'at a Bumble-bee Wears out his welcome too quick fer me !" HE CALLED HER IN. 129 HE CALLED HER IN. HE called her in from me and shut the door. And she so loved the sunshine and the sky ! She loved them even better yet than I That ne'er knew dearth of them my mother dead, Nature had nursed me in her lap instead: And I had grown a dark and eerie child That rarely smiled, Save when, shut all alone in grasses high, Looking straight up in God's great lonesome sky And coaxing Mother to smile back on me. 'Twas lying thus, this fair girl suddenly Came on me, nestled in the fields beside A pleasant-seeming home, with doorway wide The sunshine beating in upon the floor Like golden rain. sweet, sweet face above me, turn again And leave me ! I had cried, but that an ache Within my throat so gripped it I could make No sound but a thick sobbing. Cowering so, 1 felt her light hand laid Upon my hair a touch that ne'er before Had tamed me thus, all soothed and unafraid It seemed the touch the children used to know When Christ was here, so dear it was so dear, 130 HE CALLED HER IN. At once I loved her as the leaves love dew In midmost summer when the days are new. Barely an hour I knew her, yet a curl Of silken sunshine did she clip for me Out of the bright May-morning of her hair, And bound and gave it to me laughingly, And caught my hands and called me "Little girl," Tip-toeing, as she spoke, to kiss me there! And I stood dazed and dumb for very stress Of my great happiness. She plucked me by the gown, nor saw how mean The raiment drew me with her everywhere: Smothered her face in tufts of grasses green: Put up her dainty hands and peeped between Her fingers at the blossoms crooned and talked To them in strange, glad whispers, as we walked, Said this one was her angel mother this, Her baby-sister come back, for a kiss, Clean from the Good- World! smiled and kissed them, then Closed her soft eyes and kissed them o'er again. And so did she beguile me so we played, She was the dazzling Shine I, the dark Shade And we did mingle like to these, and thus, Together, made The perfect summer, pure and glorious. So blent we, till a harsh voice broke upon HE CALLED HER IN. 131 Our happiness. She, startled as a fawn, Cried, "Oh, 'tis Father!" all the blossoms gone From out her cheeks as those from out her grasp. Harsher the voice came: She could only gasp Affrightedly, "Good-bye! good-bye! good-bye!" And lo, I stood alone, with that harsh cry Ringing a new and unknown sense of shame Through soul and frame, And, with wet eyes, repeating o'er and o'er, "He called her in from me and shut the door!" II. He called her in from me and shut the door ! And I went wandering alone again So lonely O so very lonely then, I thought no little sallow star, alone In all a world of twilight, e'er had known Such utter loneliness. But that I wore Above my heart that gleaming tress of hair To lighten up the night of my despair, I think I might have groped into my grave, Nor cared to wave The ferns above it with a breath of prayer. And how I hungered for the sweet, sweet face That bent above me in my hiding-place That day amid the grasses there beside Her pleasant home! "Her pleasant home!" I sighed, 132 HE CALLED HER IN. Remembering; then shut my teeth and feigned The harsh voice calling me, then clinched my nails So deeply in my palms, the sharp wounds pained, And tossed my face toward heaven, as one'who pales In splendid martyrdom, with soul serene, As near to God as high the guillotine. And I had envied her? Not that O no ! But I had longed for some sweet haven so ! Wherein the tempest-beaten heart might ride Sometimes at peaceful anchor, and abide Where those that loved me touched me with their hands, And looked upon me with glad eyes, and slipped Smooth fingers o'er my brow, and lulled the strands Of my wild tresses, as they backward tipped My yearning face and kissed it satisfied. Then bitterly I murmured as before, "He called her in from me and shut the door!" in. He called her in from me and shut the door ! After long struggling with my pride and pain A weary while it seemed, in which the more I held myself from her, the greater fain Was I to look upon her face again; At last at last half conscious where my feet Were faring, I stood waist-deep in the sweet Green grasses there where she HE CALLED HER IN. 133 First came to me. The very blossoms she had plucked that day, And, at her father's voice, had cast away, Around me lay, Still bright and blooming in these eyes of mine; And as I gathered each one eagerly, I pressed it to my lips and drank the wine Her kisses left there for the honey-bee. Then, after I had laid them with the tress Of her bright hair with lingering tenderness, I, turning, crept on to the hedge that bound Her pleasant-seeming home but all around Was never sign of her ! The windows all Were blinded; and I heard no rippling fall Of her glad laugh, nor any harsh voice call; But, clutching to the tangled grasses, caught A sound as though a strong man bowed his head And sobbed alone unloved uncomforted ! And then straightway before My tearless eyes, all vividly, was wrought A vision that is with me evermore: A little girl that lies asleep, nor hears Nor heeds not any voice nor fall of tears. And I sit singing o'er and o'er and o'er, "God called her in from him and shut the door !" 134 THE BOY-FRIEND. THE BOY-FRIEND. LARENCE, my boy-friend, hale and strong! O he is as jolly as he is young; And all of the laughs of the lyre belong To the boy all unsung: So I want to sing something in his behalf To clang some chords, for the good it is To know he is near, and to have the laugh Of that wholesome voice of his. I want to tell him in gentler ways Than prose may do, that the arms of rhyme, Warm and tender with tuneful praise, Are about him all the time. I want him to know that the quietest nights We have passed together are yet with me, Roistering over the old delights That were born of his company. I want him to know how my soul esteems The fairy stories of Andersen, And the glad translations of all the themes Of the hearts of boyish men. THE BOY FRIEND. 135 Want him to know that my fancy flows, With the lilt of a dear old-fashioned tune, Through "Lewis Carroll's" poemly prose, And the tale of "The Bold Dragoon." O this is the Prince that I would sing Would drape and garnish in velvet line, Since courtlier far than any king Is this brave boy-friend or mine. 136 WHEN THE WORLD BURSTS THROUGH. WHEN THE WORLD BU'STS THROUGH. [Casually Suggested By An Earthquake.] WHERE'S a boy a-goin', An' what's he goin' to do, An' how's he goin" to do it, When the world bu'sts through? Ma she says "she can't tell What we're comin' to !" An' Pop says "he's ist skeered Clean plum' 1 through ! S'pose we'd be a-playin' Out in the street, An' the ground 'ud split up 'Bout forty feet! Ma says "she ist knows We 'nd tumble in;" An' Pop says, "he bets you Nen we wouldn't grin !" S'pose we'd ist be 'tendin' Like we had a show, Down in the stable Where we mustn' go, Ma says, "the earthquake Might make it fall;" An' Pop says, "More'n like Swaller barn an' all !" WHEN THE WORLD BURSTS THROUGH. 137 Landy ! ef we both wuz Runnin' 'way from school, Out in the shady woods Where it's all so cool ! Ma says "a big tree Might sqush our head;" An' Pop says, "Chop 'em out Both killed dead!" But where's a boy 'goin', An' what's he goin' to do, An' how's he goin' to do it, Ef the world bu'sts through! Ma she says, "she can't tell What we're goin' to do," An' Pop says, "He's ist skeered Clean plum' through !" 138 A PROSPECTIVE GLIMPSE. A PROSPECTIVE GLIMPSE. JANEY Pettibone's the best Little girl an' purtiest In this town ! an' lives next door, Up stairs over their old store. Little Janey Pettibone An' her Ma lives all alone, 'Cause her Pa broke up, an' nen Died 'cause they aint rich again. Little Janey's Ma she sews Fer my Ma sometimes, an' goes An' gives music-lessuns, where People's got pianers there. But when Janey Pettibone Grows an' grows, like I'm a growin', Nen Pm go' to keep a store, An' sell things an' sell some more Till I'm ist as rich! An' nen Her Ma can be rich again, Ef Pm rich enough to own Little Janey Pettibone! THE OLD TRAMP. 139 THE OLD TRAMP. A} OLD Tramp slep' in our stable wunst, An' The Raggedy Man he caught An' roust him up, an' chased him off Clean out through our back lot ! An' th' old tramp hollered back an' said, "You're a flirty man ! Yon air ! With a pair o' eyes like two fried eggs, An' a nose like a Bartlutt pear !" CURLY LOCKS. CURLY LOCKS. CURL Y Locks! Curly Locks! wilt than be mine? Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine, But sit on a cushion and sew a fine scam, And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream. Curly Locks ! Curly Locks ! \vilt thou he mine? The throb of my heart is in every line, And the pulse of a passion as airy and glad In its musical beat as the little Prince had! Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine ! O I'll dapple thy hands with these kisses of mine Till the pink of the nail of each finger shall be As a little pet blush in full blossom for me. But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, And thou shalt have fabric as fair as a dream, The red of my veins, and the white of my love, And the gold of my joy for the braiding thereof. And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream From a service of silver, with jewels agleam, At thy feet will I bide, at thy beck will I rise, And twinkle my soul in the night of thine eyes ! Curly Locks! C7irly Locks! wilt thou be mine? Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine, But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, And feast npo)i strawberries, sugar and cream. THE PET COON. 141 THE PET COON. NOEY Bixler ketched him, and fetched him in to me When he's ist a little teenty-weenty baby-coon 'Bout as big as little pups, an' tied him to a tree; An' Pa gived Noey fifty cents, when he come home at noon. Nen he buyed a chain fer him, an' little collar, too, An' sawed a hole in a' old tub an' turnt it upside down; An' little feller'd stay in there and wo'nt come out fer you 'Tendin' like he's kindo' skeered o' boys 'at lives in town. Now he aint afeard a bit ! he's ist so fat an' tame, We on'y chain him up at night, to save the little chicks. Holler "Greedy! Greedy!" to him, an' he knows his name, An' here he'll come a-waddle-un, up fer any tricks! He'll climb up my leg, he will, an' waller in my lap, An' poke his little black paws 'way in my pockets where They's beechnuts, er chinkypins, er any little scrap Of anything 'at's good to eat an' he don't care! An' he's as spunky as you please, an' don't like dogs at all. Billy Miller's black-an'-tan tackled him one day, An' "Greedy" he ist kindo' doubled all up like a ball, An' Billy's dog he gived a yelp er two an' runned away ' 142 THE PET COON. An' nen when Billy fighted me, an' hit me with a bone, An' Ma she purt'nigh ketched him as he dodged an' skooted thro' The fence, she says, "You better let my little boy alone, Er