OLD- FASHION ED KOsES 
BY  TilI3  5AM~ AUTtIOR
(IN AMERICA)
NilonBOURLY Po~Ms; ON FRIRNnsHIP, GRIEF, aND
FARM Lt~~-Inc1nding the "Old Swimmin'-Hole"
Series.
S~~~c~as IN Paosa -With Interluding PoeniL
A~~~aw~~~'s-Semous and Dialect Verse.
PIPES 0' P~~-Five Sketches and Fifty Poem~
RHYMES OF CHILDHoOD -Child-Dialect and other
Verses.
THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT-A Fantastic
Drania in Verse.
GRERN FIELDS AND RUNNING B~ooIts-Dialect and
Serions Poenis.
A~~~zi~n~-Hoosier Harvest Airs.  Feigned Forms
and Child Rhymes.
A CHILD-WoRLD-A Continuous Chronicle in Verse
of Child Life, Old Home Tales and Episod~.
Any of abo~e post-paid lor $I.2~.
AN OLD SWEETHEART OF M~~~-Colo1ired and Mono   tint Plates, I x 10 fIat quarto, post-paid, $2.50.
P0RM~ HERR AT Ho~~-Dialect and other Poems,
post-paid, $1.50.
THE  GoLDKN Y~~a-From the Verse and Prose of
AMES W~~~co~a RILEY.  Compiltd hy CLARA
LA UGliLIN.
PUBLISHED BV
The Bowen-Merrili Co., Indianapolis   
OLD-FASHIONED ~OSES
JAMES WHITCO~IB RILEY
T WENT I SECOND JAJER ~SS!ON
LONG MANS, GREEN, ANI) CO.
LONDON AND BOMBAY
18c)9
All ri~A?s resc;ved 
&
~5' 
TO
Af 1' MOTHER ELIZABETH  
CONTENTS
OLD-FA SHJONED ROSES
PA~L:
PROEM.....
THE DAYS GONE BY.....
AN OLD SWEETHEART OF  MINE...  7
A FRUIT-PIECE......  I
THE LITTLE WHITE HEARSE...  1
"CURLY LOCKS.....  I
"GOD BLESS US EVERY ONE!"...  I
LITTLE TOMMY SMITH.....  I
AFTERWHILES..... 20
HERR WEISER......
THE BEAUTIFUL CITY....
LOCKERBIE STREET..... 28
DAS KRIST KINDEL.... 30
TIfE ORCHARD LANDS OF LONG AGO... 35
THE SOUTH WIND AND THE  SUN... 37
THE LOST KISS..... 44
IKE WALTON ~ PRAYER.... 
VIII           OLD-FASHIONED fOSES
OUR KIND OF A MAN..        -. -  49
THE HARPER.....  51
THE RIPEST PEACH.   -...  52
OLD AUNT MARY S.....  53
ILLILEO..   -...  55
A BRIDE..  -...  57
SONG...   -.   -.
WHEN BESSIE DiED.    -..  6o
THE SHOWER....   -.  62
A LIFE-LESSON....  64
THE SCRAWL..            -   -.  66
AWAY......  67
WHO BIDES HIS TIME.....  69
LAUGHTER HOLDING BOTH HIS SIDES.   -  71
AND THIS IS FAME..        -..  72
THE BEETLE...        -.  76
THE BROOK-SONG...   -.  78
TIlE OLD MAN.....  8o
TO ROBERT BURNS..            -.
SOAT2VE TS
PAN.    -    -...  91
DUSK -.      -            -. -  92
JUNF    -...        -   -  93
SiLLNCE   -.   -            - -  94
PUCK.    -     -   -        -   -  95 
CON TE WTS                       Lx
SLEEP                                           96
HER IlAIR                                       97
TO THE CRICKET                                  98
ThE SERENADE                                    99
WHEN SHE COMES HOME
HOOSiE~ DL4LECT
GRIGGSBY'S STATION                             103
KNEE-DEEP IN JUNE                              i06
LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE                           110
THE AIRLY I)AYS                -               114
LIKE HIS MOTHER USED TO MAKE                   116
THE LITTLE TOWN 0 TAILHOLT                     118
NOTilIN' TO SAY                                120
THE OLD SWIMMIN -HOLE                          123
TIlOUGIlTS FEE THE ~)ISCLRAGED FARMER          125
A SUMMER'S DAY                                 128
TO MY OLD NEIGHBOR, WILLIAM LEACHMAN            I~I
WHEN THE FROST IS ON TIlE PUNKIN               136
MY FEILOSOFY                                   138
UN TliE LEATlI OF LITTLE ~~I~"~iIALA ASliCRAPT 141
THE CLOVER                                     144  
OLD~FA SHWNED ~OSES  
OLD-FA S~!ONED ROSE&
[FlOOSIER DIALEcT.J
Yhey ain't no style about`em,
And they're sort 0' ~ale and jaded,
Yit the doorway here, without`em,
!~uld be tonesomer, and shaded
With a good`eal blacker shadder
Than the morn in' glones makes
And the sunshine would look sadder
For tlzeir good oldfashion' sakes.
f like`e;ii`cause they kind 0'
Sort 0' make a feller like`em;
An~l I tell you, when Iftnd a
1?z~nck out whur the sun kin strike`em,
It al??~s sets me thinki':'
O' tks ones`at used to grow,
And~~ek in tl'ro' the chinkin'
O' Mie cabin, don't you know.
 
4            OLD.FASHION~D ~OSES
And then I th?)zk 0' mother,
And how she used to 7ove`em,
tl)hen they w'~zn't any other,
`Less shefizend`em u~ above`en'!
And her eyes, afrre she shut`~nr,
whispered with a smile, and said
~7e must picA a bunch andp~t`em
In her hand when she wuz dead.
~ut, as I wuz a say'n,
They ain't`to style about`em
Vc~ Jau& or disp lay in',
But I wouldn't be without`em,
`Cause I'm happier in t7zese posies,
And the hollyhawks and sich,
Tha~: the hummin'- bii'd`at noses
In the roses of the rich.
 
IHE DAJ~ GONE B?
7'H~ DAYS GONE BY.
othe days gone by!  0 the days gone by!
fheapples in the orchard, and the pathway through the
rye;
fhe chirrup of the robin, and the whistle of the quail
As he piped across the meadows sweet as any nigh tin
g~e;
When the bloom was on the clover, and the blue was in
tl~e sky,
`ndmy happy heart brimmed over-in the happy days
gone by.
a the days gone by, when our naked feet were tripped
`y the honeysuckle tangles where the water-lilies dipped,
adthe ripples of the river lipped the moss along the
brink
~ere the p~acid.eyed and lazy-footed cattle came to
drink,
adthe tilting snipe stood fearless of the truant's way.
ward cry
- ad the splashing of the swimmer, in the days gone by. 
6         THE DAIS GONE B~
0the days gone by!  0 the days gone by!
The music of the laughing lip, the luster of the eye;
The childish faith in fairies, and Aladdin's magic ringThe simple, soul-reposing, glad belief in everything;
~~hen life was like a story holding neither sob nor sigh,
In the golden olden glory of the days gone by. 
AN OLD SwE~THEART OF MEVE            7
AN OLD s~V~ETHEART OF MiNE.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone,
And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,
So I turn the leaves of Fancy, till in shadowy design
I flnd the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.
The lamplight seems to glimmer with a flicker of sur    prise,
As I turn it low, to rest me of the dazzle in my eyes,
And light my pipe in silence, save a sigh that seems to
yoke
Its fate with my tobacco, and to vanish with the smoke.
`Tisa fragrant retrospection, for the loving thoughts
that start
Intobeing are like perfumes from the Nossom of the
heart;
And to dream the old dreams over is a luxury divineWhen iny truant fancies wander with that old sweetheart
of mine. 
B       A~'~ OLD Sw~~TH~4?T OF MINE
Though I hear, beneath my study, like a fluttering of
wings,
The voices of my children and the mother as she sings,
I feel no twinge of conscience to deny me any theme
~Vhen Care has cast her anchor in the harbor of a dream. -
In fact, to speak in earnest, I believe it adds a charm
To spice the good a trifle with a little dust of hannFor I find an extra flavor in Memory's mellow wine
That makes me drink the deeper to that old sweetheart
of mine.
A face of lily-beauty, with a form of airy grace,
Floats out of my tobacco as the genii from the vase;
And I thrill beneath the glances of a pair of azure eyes
As glowing as the summer and as tender as the skies.
I can see the pink sun-bonnet and the little checkered
uress
She wore when first I kissed her, and she answered the
caress
~Vith the written declaration that,  as surely as the vine
Grew round the stump," she loved me-that old sweet   heart of mine!
And again I feel the pressure of her slender little hand,
As we used to talk together of the future we had planned;
~Vhen I should be a poet, and with nothing else to do
I3ut write the tender verses that she set the music to: 
AiV OLD SWEETHEART OF MiA~           9
~~hen we should live together in a cozy little cot,
Hid in a nest of roses, with a fairy garden-spot,
~Vhere the vines were ever fruited, and the weather ever
fine,
And the birds were ever singing for that old sweetheart
of mine:
And I should be her lover forever and a day,
And she my faithful sweetheart till the golden hair was
gray;
And we should be so happy that when either's lips were
dumh
They would not smile in Heaven till the other's kiss had
come.
But-ah! my dream is broken by a step upon the stair,
And the door is softly opened, and my wif~ is standing
there!
Yet with eagerness and rapture all my visions I resign
To  greet the living presence of that old sweetheart of
a~ine. 
A FRU!TJlECE
A F~UiT-HECE.
THE afternoon of summer folds
Its warm arms round the marigolds,
And, with its gleaming fingers, pets
The watered pinks and violets
That from the casement vases spill,
Over the cottage window-sill,
Their fragrance down the garden walks
~Vhere droop the dry-mouthed hollyhocks,
How vividly the sunshine scrawls
The grape-vine shadows on the walls!
How like a truant swings the breeze
In high boughs of the apple-trees!
The slender free-stone lifts aloof,
Full languidly above the roof,
A hoard of fruitage, stamped with gold
And precious mintings manifold. 
A FR UlT-PIECE
High up, through curled green leaves, a pear
Hangs hot with ripeness here and there.
Beneath the sagging trellis clings
In lush, lack-luster clusterings,
Great torpid grapes, all fattened through
With moon and sunshine, shade and dew,
Until their swollen girths express
But forms of limp deliciousness
Drugged to an indolence divine
With heaven's own sacramental wine. 
Z2      THE L17~TLE tt7rITE HEARSE
TIlE LITTLE WHJTE HEA~SE.
As the little white hearse went glimmering by  The man on the coal-cart jerked his lines,
And smutted the lid of either eye,
And turned and stared at the business signs;
And the street-car driver stopped and beat
His hands on his shoulders, and gazed up street
Till his eye on the long track reached the sky   As the little white hearse went glimmering by.
As the little white hearse went glimmering by  A stranger petted a ragged child
In the crowded walks, and she knew not why,
Lot he gave her a coin for the way she smiled;
And a bootblack thrilled with a pleasure strange,
As a customer put back his change
~Vith a kindly hand and a grateful sigh,
As the little white hearse went glimmering by.
A~ the little white hearse went glimmenng by  A man looked out of a window dim,
And his cheeks were wet and his heart was dry,
For a dead child even were dear to him!
 
THE LI7~LE WHITE HEARSE    23
And he thought of his empty life, and said
"Loveless alive, and loveless deadNor wife nor child in earth or sky
As rhe little white hearse went glimmering by. 
Z4             "CURLY LOCKS'
"CU?IY LOCK9."
Curly Locks! Cierly Locks! wiit thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet fted the sw~ne,
But sit on a cushion and sew afine seam,
And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream.
Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine?
The throb of my heart is in every line,
And the pulse of a passion as airy and glad
In its musical beat as the little prince had!
Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine
0, 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 fUr the braiding thereof. 
CURLY LOCKS"`5
And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream
From a service of silver with jewels agleam,At thy feet will I bide, at thy beck will I rise,
And twinkle my soul in the night of thine eyes!
Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine,
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,
And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream. 
6       "GOD BLESS US EVF~1 ONE!"
COD BLESS US EVBEY ONE!'
"GOD bless us every one!" prayed Tiny Tim,
Crippled, and dwarfed of body, yet so tall
Of soul, we tiptoe earth to look on him,
High towering over ~l.
He loved the loveless world, nor dr~amed, indeed,
That it, at best, could give to him, the while,
But pitying glances, when his only need
Was but a cheery smile.
And thus he prayed, "God bless us every one!`
Enfolding all the creeds within the span
Of his child-heart; and so, despising none,
Was nearer saint than man.
I like to fancy God, in Paradise,
Lifting a finger o'er the rhythmic swing
Of chiming harp and song, with eager eyes
Turned earthward, listening
 
"GOD BLESS US EJ~R1 OAThE!"
The Anthem stilled-the angels leaning there
Above the golden walls-the morning sun
Of Chr~stmas bursting flower.like with the prayel
"Cod bless us EveryOne!"
C 
LiTTLE TOMMY SMITH
LITTLE TOAL~iY SAJITiL
Di ~~IPLE-CllEEKRD and rosy-lipped,
~Vith his cap-rim hackward tipped,
Still, in fancy, I can see
Little Tommy smile on me         Little Tommy Smith.
Little unsung Tommy SmithScarce a namc to rhyme it with;
Yet most tenderly to me
Something sings unceasingly         Little Tommy Smith.
On the verge of some far land
Still forever does he stand,
~Vith his cap-rim rakishly
Tilted; so he sm~les on me         Little Tommy Smitli
Oh, my jaunty statuette
Of first love, I see you yet;
Though you smile so mi~tily,
It is but through tears I see,
Little Tommy Smith. 
11?7LE TOMMF SMlTll        19
But with crown tipped back behind,
And the glad hand of the wind
8moothing back your hair, I see
Heaven's best angel smile on me        Little Tommy Smit~ 
20        AFTERtkThUfLES
AFTE~ WHILES.
WHERE are they-the AfterwhilesLuring us the lengthening miles
Of our lives?  Where is the dawn
With the dew across the lawn
Stroked with eager feet the far
Way the hills and valleys are?
Where the sun that smites the frown
Of the eastward-gazer do'vn?
Where the rifted wreathes of mist
O'er us, tinged with amethyst,
Round fl~e mountain's steep defiles?
Where are all the afterwhiles?
Afterwhile-and we will go
Thither, yon, and to and froFrom the stifling city-streets
To the country's cool retreatsFrom the riot to the rest
~N~ere hearts heat the placidest;
Afterwhile, and we will fall
Under breezy trees, and loll 
AFTER WHILES
In the shade, with thirsty sight
Drinking deep the blue delight
Of the skies that will beguile
Us as children-afterwhil~
Afterwhile- and one intends
To be gentler to his friendsTo walk with them, in the hush
Of still evenings, o'er the plush
Of home-leading fields, and stand
Long at parting, hand in hand:
One, in time, will joy to take
New resolves for someone 5 sake,
And wear then the look that lies
Clear and pure in other eyes
lie will soothe and reconcile
ilis own conscience-afterwhile.
Afterwhile-wc have in view
A far scene to journey to,Where the old home is, and where
The old mother waits us there,
Peering, as the time grows late,
Down the old path to the gate.`low we'll click the latch that locks
In the pinks and hollyhocks, 
AFTER WHIL ES
And leap up the path once more
~There she waits us at the door
I~ow we'll greet the dear old smile,
And the warm tears-afterwhile!
Ah, the endless afterwhiles
Leagties on leagues, and miles on miles,
In the distance far withdrawn,
Stretching on, and on, and on,
Till the fancy is footsore
And faints in the dust before
The last milestone's granite face,
Ilacked with: Here Beginneth Space
o far glimmering worlds and wings,
Mystic smiles and beckonings,
Lead us, through the shadowy a~les,
Out Into the afterwhiles. 
HERR ~`~~iSER               23
H~kk WHSEI?.
II FRR ~VEIsER!- Three-score-years-and -ten,A hale white rose of his countrymen,
Transplanted here a the II nosier loam,
And blossomy as his German home
As blossomy, and as pure and sweet
As the cool green glen of his calm retreat,
Far withdrawn from the noisy town
~Yhere trade goes clamoring up and down,
~Vhose fret and fever, and stress and strife
~f 3~ not trouble his tranquil life!
Lreath of rest, what a balmy gust!
Quit of the city's heat and dust,
Jostling down by the winding road,
Through the orchard ways of his quaint abode. -
Tether the horse, as we onward fare
Under the pear-trees trailing there,
And thumping the wooden bridge at night
~Vith lumps of ripeness and lush delight,
Till the stream, as it maunders on till dawn,
I~ powdered and pelted and smiled upon 
4              HERR JUElSER
herr ~Veiser, with his wholesome face,
And the gentle blue of his eyes, and grace
Of unassuming honesty,
Be there to welcome you and me!
And what though the toil of the farm be s~~)ppcd
And the tireless plans of the place be dropped,
~Vhile the prayerful master's knees are set
In beds of pansy and mignonette,
And lily and aster and columbine,
Offered in love, as yours and mine?
~Vhat, hut a blessing of kindly thought,
Sweet as the breath of torget-me~not
~Vhat, but a spirit of lustrous love
~Vhite as the aster he bends above
~~hat, but an odorous memory
Of the dear old man, made known to me
In days demanding a help like his,As sweet as the life of the lily is
As sweet as the soul of a babe, bloom-wise
~orn of a lily in paradise. 
THE BEAUTIFUL CITY
TH~ BEAUHEUL CJTY.
TH~ Beautiful City!  Forever
Its rapturous praises resound
We fain would behold it-but never
A glimpse of its glory is found:
We slacken our lips at the tender
~%ite breasts of our mothers to hear
Of its marvelous beauty and spiendor
We see-but the gleam of a tear
Yet never the story may tire us,
First graven in symbols of stoneRewritten on scrolls of papyrus,
And parchment, and scattered and Nown
By the winds of the tongues of all nations,
Like a litter of leaves wildly whirled
Down the rack of a hundred translations,
From the earliest lisp of the world.
We compass the earth and the ocean,
From the Orient's uttermost light,
To where the last ripple in motion
Lips hem of the skirt of tbe night,
 
THE ~EA UHEUL UT~
But The Beautiful City evades us
No spire of it glints in the sunNo glad-bannered battlement shades us
When all our long journey is done.
Where lies it?  We question and listen;
We lean from the mountain, or mast,
And see but dull earth, or the glisten
Of seas inconceivably vast
The dust of the one blurs our vision  The glare of the other our brain,
Nor city nor island elysian
In all of the land or the main
~~e kneel in dim fanes where the thunders
Of organs tumultuous roll,
And the longing heart listens and wonders,
And the eyes look aloft from the soul;
B~t the chanson grows fainter and fainter,
Swoons wholly away and is dead;
And our eyes only reach where the painter
~as dabbled a saint overhead.
The Beautiful City!  0 mortal,
Fare hopefully on in thy quest,
Pass down through the green grassy portal
That leads to the Valley of Rest,
 
THE B~UTiFUL C!TY          27
There first passed the One who, in pity
Of all thy great yearning, awaits
To point out The Beautiful City,
And loosen the trump at the gates. 
8            iJCCAEPBJE STRE~~
LOCKE~BJE STAE~T.
SUCH a dear little street it is, nestled away
From the noise of the city and heat of the day,
In cool shady coverts of whispering trees,
With their leaves lifted up to shake hands with the breeze
Which in all its wide wanderings never may meet
With a resting.place fairer than Lockerbie street
There is such a relief, from the clangor and din
Of the heart of the tOwn, to go loitering in
Through the dim, narrow walks, with the sheltering shade
Of the trees waving over the long promenade,
And littering lightly the ways of our feet
With the gold of the sunshine of Lockerbie street.
And the nights that come down the dark pathways of
dusk,
With the stars in their tresses, and odors of musk
In their moon-woven raiments, bespangled with dews,
And looped up with lilies for lovers to use
In the songs that they sing to the tinkle and beat
Of their sweet serenadings through Lockerbie street. 
LOCAtERBJE STREE~
0, my Lockerbie street!  You are fair to be seenBe it noon of the day, or the rare and serene
Afternoon of the night-you are one to my heart,
And I love you above all the phrases of art,
For no language could ftame, and no lips could repeat
My rhyme-haunted raptures of Lockerbie street. 
30           BA~ Ki~JS~r ALVDEl
DAS K~JST KINDEL.
I HAD fed the fire and stirred it, till the sparkles in
delight
Snapped their saucy little fingers at the chill December
night;
And in dressing-gown and slippers, I had tilted back
"my throne -
The old split-bottomed rocker- and was musing all
alone.
I could hear the hungry ~Vinter prowling round the
outer door,
~nd the tread of muffled footsteps on the wI~ite piazza
floor;
But the sounds came to me only as the murmur of a
stream
That mingled with the current of a lazy-flowing dream.
Like a fragrant incense rising, curled the smoke of my
cigar,
\Vith the lamp-light gleaming through it like a mist    enfolded star 
DAS KRIST KThD~L              3'
And as I gazed, the vapor like a curtain rolled away,
With a sound of bells that tinkled, and the clatter of a
sleigh.
And in a vision, painted like a picture in the air,
I saw the elfish figure of a man with frosty hairA quaint old man that chuckled with a laugh as he ap
peared,
And with ruddy cheeks like embers in the a~hes of his
beard.
lie poised himself grotesquely, in an attitude of mirth,
On a damask-covered hassock that was sitting on the
hearth;
And at a magic signal of his stubby little thumb,
I saw the fireplace changing to a bright proscenium.
And looking there, I marveled as I saw a mimic stage
Alive with little actors of a very tender age
And some so very tiny that they tottered as they walk&,
And lisped and purled and gurgled like the brooklets,
when they talked.
And their faces were like lilies, and their eyes like purest
dew,
And their tresses like the shadows that the shine is woven
through;
And they each had little burdens, and a little tale to tell
Of fairy lore, and giants, and delights delectable. 
DAS KR/ST KiNDEL
And they mixed and intermingled, weaving melody with
joy,
Till the magic circle clustered round a blooming baby    boy;
And they threw aside their treasures, in an ecstasy of
glee,
And bent, with dazzled faces, and with parted lips, to
see.
`Twas a wondrous little fellow, with a dainty double
chin,
~nd chubby cheeks, and dimples for the smiles to
blossom in;
And he looked as ripe and rosy, on his bed of straw and
reeds,
As a mellow little pippin that had tumbled in the weeds.
And I saw the happy mother, and a group surrounding
her,
That knelt with costly presents of frankincense and
myrrh;
And I thrilled with awe and wonder, as a murmur oj~
the air
Came drifting o'er the hearing in a melody of prayer
fly the splendor in the heav~ns, and the hush upon the
sea,
Andthe rn~~?sty of sitence re'~z?)~ over Galilee, 
DAS KR 1ST KLVDEL                 33
W?  flel Thy kingly ~resenc4 and we humbly bow tl.c'
knee
And lzft our kearts and voices in gratefielness to Thee.
Thy messe'tger has spoken, and our doubts havej?ed and
gone
As the dark and speetral shadows of the night befire the
dawn;
And, in the kindly shelter of the light around us drasc~n,
We would nestle down forever in the breast we lean u~on.
You have given us a shepherd- You have given us a
~uid~
And the lzght of Heaven ~rew dimmer when You sent
Th~m from Your side, -
~ut lie comes to lead Thy children where the gates wdl
open wide
To wefrome His retufl:ing when His works are glorzfe~~
By  the splendor in the heavens, and the hush upon the
sea,
And the majesty of silence reignin~ over Ca/ike,rVe feel Thy kin~ly presence, and we humbly bow the
knee
4nd hft oi#r hearts and voices in gra/Julness to Thee.
D 
Th4~ KR/ST K!NDi?L
Then the vi~ion, slowly failing, with the words of the
refrain,
Fellswonning in the moonlight through the frosty
window-pane;
And I heard the clock proclaiming, like an eager sentinel
~Vho hring the woild good tidings, —" It is Christmas    all is well 
THL' OA'CllARD LANDS OF LONG AGO
THE O~C1IARD LANDS OF LONG AGO.
THE orchard lands of Long Ago!
O drowsy winds, awake, and blow
The snowy blossoms back to me,
And all the buds that used to be
Blow back along the grassy ways
Of truant feet, and lift the haze
Of happy summer from the trees
That trail their tresses in the seas
Of grain that float and overflow
The o'chard lands of Long Ago!
Blow back the melody that slips
In lazy laughter from the lips
That marvel much if any kiss
Is sweeter than the apple's is.
Blow back the twitter of the birds   The lisp, the titter, and the words
Of merriment that found the shine
Of summertime a glorious wine
That drenched the leaves that loved it so,
In orchard lands of Long Ago
1)2 
36  THE ORCHARD LANDS OF LONG AGO
omemory! alight and sing
Where rosy-bellied pippins c;ing,
And golden russets glint and gleam,
As, in the old Arabian dream,
The fruits of that enchanted tree
The glad Aladdin robbed for me!
And, drowsy winds, awake and fan
My blood as when it over-ran
A heart ripe as the apples grow
In orchard lands of Long Ago I 
THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN
THE SOUTH WiND AND THE SUK.
oTHE South ~Vind 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,
~Vith glowing face, and lisping lip,
Low laugh, and lifted shout!
And the South ~Vind-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 ~aving hand he kissed.
 
38    THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN
And the Sun had on a crown
Wrought of gilded thistledown,
And a scarf of velvet vapor,
And a raveled-rainhow gown;
And his tinsel-tangled hair,
Tossed and lost upon the air,
Was glossier and flossier
Than any anywhere.
And the South ~~nd's eyes were two
Little dancing drops of dew,
As he puffed his cheeks, and pursed his lip~
And hlew and hlew and hiew!
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,
~~`here the daisies looked like star-tracks
Trailing up and down the dawn.
 
Ti/f SOUT!! rtvND AND Ti/f SUN     j9
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 ~~ind and the Sun
NVent onward satisfied.
Over meadow -lands they tripped,
~Vhere 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,
~Vith maudlin murmurings.
And the l~umming-bird, that hung
Like a jewel up among
The tilted honeysuckle-horns,
They mesmerized, and swung
In the palpitating air,
Drowsed ~vith odors strange and rare,
And, with whispered laughter, slipped away
And left liim hanging there. 
4     THE SOUTH tVh~ThL) AND THE SUN
And they braided blades of grass
~Vbere the truant had to pass;
And they wriggled through the rushes
And the reeds of the morass,
~Vhere they danced, in rapture sweet,
O~ei the leaves that laid a street
Of undulant mosaic for
The touches of their feet.
By the brook with mossy brink,
~Yhere the cattle came to drink,
They trilled and piped and whistled
N\~iU~ the thrush and bobolink,
Till the kine, in listless pause,
Swit&ned their tails in mute applause,
~Yith lifted heads and dreamy eyes,
And bubble.dripping jaws.
Ahd 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
V~ith caresses fond and fair.
 
THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUAt     4
Over orchard walls they went,
~Vhere the fruited boughs were bent
Till they brushed the sward beneath them
~Vhere the shine and shadow blent;
And the great green pear they shook
Till. the sallow hue forsook
Its features, and the gleam of gold
1~ ughed out in every look.
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 I~rankt the rambo w~th 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 1~lumpt, like tiny skins of wine,
~Vith a vintage so divine
Tliat the tongue of fancy tingled
~~`ith the tang of muscadine.
 
42    THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN
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.
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 fflght.
 
THE SO U7`H UYAtD AND THE SUN     ~~
And they heard the kilidee'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!
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 ~Vind and the Sun!
I murmur evermore.
For the South ~Vind 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.
 
4             THE LOST KISS
THE LOST KJSS.
I PUT by the half~written poem,
~Vhile 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 fair}~
~Iy own little girl, with the gold
Of the sun in her hair, and the dewy
Blue eyes of the fairies of old.
 
THE LOST KISS                 45
`Twa the dear 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 clamouring there at my knee
For`One`ittle kiss for my dolly,
And one`ittle uzzer for me 1'"
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 mem'ry 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,
~Vhile the pen, idly trailed in my hand,
~Vntes on, "had I words to complete it,
~7ho'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
 
!K~ WALTON'S PRAIThER
IKE WALTON'S PRAYER.
I CRAVE, dear Lord,
No boundless hoard
Of gdd and gear,
Nor jewels fine,
Nor lands, nor kine,
Nortreasure.heaps of anything. -
Let but a little hut be mine
Where at the hearthstone I may hear
The cricket sing,
And have the shine
Of one glad woman's eyes to make,
For my poor sake,
Our simple home a place divine
Just the wee cot-the cricket's chirrLove, and the smiling face of her.
I pray not for
Great riches, nor
For vast estates, and castle.haUs,
Give me to hear the bare footfalls
Of children o'er
An oaken ~oor 
JKE WALTONS PRA1?~R               47
New-rinsed with sunshine, or bespread
~Vith but the tiny coverlet
And pillow for the baby's head;
And, pray Thou, may
The door stand open and the day
Send ever in a gentle breeze,
~Vith fragrance from the locust-trees,
And drowsy moan of doves, and blur
Of robin-chirps, and drone of bees,
~Vith afterhushes of the stir
Of intermingling sounds, and then
The good-wife and the smile of her
Filling the silences again
The cricket's call,
And the wee cot,
Dear Lord of all,
Deny me not!
I pray not that
Men tremble at
My power of place
And lordly sway,    I only pray for simple grace
To look my neighbor in the face
Full honestly from day to day    Yield me his horny palm to hold,
And I'll not pray
For gold 
48        Th~ WALTON'S P~AJ~R
The tanned face, garlanded with mirth
It hath the kingliest smile on earth —
The swart brow, diamonded with sweat,
Hath never need of coronet.
And so I reach,
Dear Lord, to Thee,
And do beseech
Thou givest me
The wee cot, and the cricket's cbirr,
Love, and the glad sweet face of her 
OU~ KL~VD OT A MA?~
OUk A7WD OF A MA~
THE kind of a man for you and me!
lie faces the world unflinchingly,
And smites, as long as the wrong resists,
~Vith a knuckled ft~ith and force like fists:
lie lives the life he is preaching of,
And loves where most is the need of love;
I lis voice is clear to the deaf man's ears,
And his face sublime through the blind man's tears
The light shines out where the clouds were dim,
And the widow's prayer goes up for him;
The latch is clicked at ti~e hovel door,
And the sick man sees the sun once more,
And out o'er the barren fields he sees
Springing blossoms and waving trees,
1~eeling, as only the dying may,
That God's own servant has come that way,
Smoothing the path as it still winds on
Through the golden gate where his loved have gone 
so        OUR KIND OF A MAN
II.
The kind of a man for me and you!
However little of worth we do
He credits full, and abides in trust
That time will teach us how more is just.
He walks abroad, and he meets all kinds
Of querulous and uneasy minds,
And, sympathizing, he shares the pain
Of the doubts that rack us, heart and brain;
And, knowing this, as we grasp his hand,
~Ve are surely coming to understand
He looks on s~n with pitying eyes
E'en as the Lord, since Paradise,Else, should we read, Though our sins should glow
As scarlet, they shall be white as snow
And feeling still, with a grief half glad,
That the bad are as good as the good are bad,
He strikes straight out for the Right -and he
Is the kind of a man for you and me! 
THE HA~?ER                ii
TJ?E IlARPER.
LIKE a drift of faded blossoms
Caught in a slanting rain,
His fingers glimpsed down the strings of his harp
In a tremulous refrain.
Patter, and tinkle, and drip, and drip!
Ah! but the chords were rainy sweet
And I closed my eyes and I bit my lips
As he played there in the street.
Patter, and drip, and tinkle!
And ther~ was the little bed
Inthe corner of the garret,
And the rafters overhead
And there was the little window
Tinkle, and drip, and drip
The rain above, and a mother's love,
And God's companionship!
E2 
THE RIPEST PEACH
TIJE PiPEST PEA CII:
THE ripest peach is highest on the treeAnd so her love, beyond the reach of me,
Is dearest in my sight.  Sweet breezes, bow
I-Ier heart down to me where I worship now!
She looms aloft where every eye may see
The ripest peach is highest on the tree.
Such fruitage as her love I know, alas!
I may not reach here frora the orchard grass.
I drink the sunshine showered past her lips
As roses drain the dewdrop as it drips.
The ripest peach is highest on the tree,
And so mine eyes gaze upward eagerly.
~Vhy-why do I not turn away in ~~rath
And pluck some heart here hanging in my path?Love's lower boughs bend with them  but, ah o~e!
The ripest peach is ligiest on the tree. 
OLD AThYT!Th~y'S             53
OLD AUNT AJA~Y'S.
~VA~N'T it pleasant, 0 broth~r mine,
In those old days of the lost sunshine
Of youth-when the Saturday's chores were through,
And the "Sunday's wood" in the kitchen, too,
And we went visiting, "me and you,"
Out to Old Aunt N~~ary's?
It all comes back so clear to-day!
Though I am as bald as you are gray —
Out l)y the barn-lot, and down the lane,
~Ve patter along in the dust again,
A~ light as the tips of the drops of the rain
Out to Old Aunt Mary's!
cross the pasture, and through the wood
~Vhere the old gray snag of the poplar stood,
\Vhere the hammering "red-heads" hopped awry,
And the buzzard "raised" in the "clearing "-sky,
And lolled and circled, as we went by
Out to Old Aunt ~I~ry's. 
OLD AUNT AJARI'S
And then in the dust of the road again;
And the teams we met, and the countrymen;
~~nd the long highway, with sunshine spread
As thick as hutter on country bread,
Our cares behind, and our hearts ahead
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.
~Vhy, I see her now in the open door,
~~here tl~e little gourds grew up the sides, and o'er
The clapboard roof -And her face-ah, me
~Vasn't it good for a boy to seeAnd wasn't it good for a boy to be
Out to Old Aunt Mary's ~
And 0 my brother, so far away,
This is to tell you she waits to-day
To welcome us:-Aunt ~Iary fell
Asleep this morning, whispering, "Tell
The boys to come!"  And all is well
Out to Old Aunt Mary'~ 
JLLJLEO                  55
HLHEO.
tLLIL~C), the moonlight seemed lost across the vales
The stars but strewed the azure as an armor's scattered
scales;
The airs of night were quiet as the breath of silken sails,
And all your words were sweeter than the notes of night    ingales.
Illileo Legardi, in the garden there alone,
~~ith your figure carved of fervor, as the Psyche carved
of stone,
There came to me no murmur of the fountain's under
tone
So mystically, musically mellow as your own.
You whispered low, IIlileo-so low the leaves were mute,
And the echoes faltered breathless in your voice's vain
pursuit;
And there died the distant dalliance of the serenader's
lute:
And I held you in my bosom as the husk may hold the
fruit. 
0                  JLLJLEO
Illileo, I listened.  I believed you.  In my bliss,
NV hat were all the worlds above me since I found you
thus in this?Let them reeling reach to win me  even Heaven I would
miss
Ura~ping earthward -I would cling here, though I
clung by just a kiss.
All  blossoms should  grow odorless~and  lilies all
aghastAnd I said the stars should slacken in their paces
through the vast,
Ere yet my loyalty should fail enduring to the last. -
So vowed I.  It is written.  It is changeless as the
pa~t.
Illileo Legardi, in the shade your palace throws
Like a cowl about the singer at your gilded porticos,
A moan goes with the music that may vex tite high
repose
Of a heart that fades and crumbles as the crimson of a
ruse. 
A B2?lDE                57
A B)?iDE.
"0 1 AM weary!" she sighed, as her billowy
1lair she unloosed in a torrent of gold
That rippled and fell o'er a figure as willowy,
Graceful and fair as a goddess of old
Over her jewels she flung herself drearily,
Crumpled the laces that snowed on her breast,
Crushed with her fingers the lily that wearily
Clung in her hair like a dove in its nest.
- And naught but her shadowy form in the mirror
To kneel in dumb agony down and weep near her!
"~~eary? "-of what? Could we fathom the mystery?
Lift up the lashes weighed down by her tears,
And wash with their dews one whrte face from her
history,
Set like a gem in the red rust of years?
Nothing will rest her-~unless he who died of her
Strayed from his grave, and, in place of the groom,
Tipping her face, kneeling there by the side of her,
Drained the old kiss to the dregs of his doom.
And naught but that shadowy forn~ in the mirrnr
To kneel in dumb agony down and weep near her
 
SOArG
SONG.
TH~RE is ever a song somewhere,?ny dear;
There is ever a something sings aiway:
There's the song of the lark when the skies are clear,
And the song of the thrush when the skies are gra)'
The sunshine showers across the grain,
And the bluebird trills in the orchard tree;
And in and out, when the eaves drip rain,
The swallows are twittering ceaselessly.
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear,
Be the skies above or dark or fair,
There is ever a song that our hearts may hearThere is ever a song somewhere, my dear There is ever a song somewhere I
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear,
In the midnight black, or the mid.day blue;
The robin pipes when the su~ is here,
And the cricket chirn'ps the whole night throtigh,
 
SoNG                  59
The buds may blow and the fruit may grow,
And the autumn leaves drop crisp and sere;
But whether the sun, or the rain, or the snow,
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear,
Be the skies above or dark or fair,
Tl'ere is ever a song that our hearts may hear
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear There is ever a song somewhere 
60            J~?HEN BESS 1~ DIED
WHEN BESSIE DJED.
if from your own the dimpled hands had slipped.
And ne'er would nestle in your palm again;
If the white feet into the grave had tripped —
WHEN Bessie diedWe braided the brown hair, and tied
It just as her own little hands
I-lad fastened back the silken strands
A thousand times-the crimson bit
Of ribbon woven into it
That she had worn with childish prideSmoothed down the dainty bow-and cried           When Bessie dicd.
When Be~sie diedWe drew the nursery blinds aside,
And, as the morning in the room
Burst like a primrose into bloom,
Her pet canary's cage we hung
Where she might hear him when he songAnd yet not any note he tried,
Though she lay listening folded.eyed. 
JVI?E]V BESSIE DIEL'
When Bessie diedWe writhed in prayer unsatisfied
We begged of God, and He did snule
In silence on us all the while;
And we did see Him, through our tears,
Enfolding that fair form of hers,
She laughing hack against His love
The kisses we had nothing of —
And death to us lie still denied,
When Bessie died      When Bessie died. 
62             THE SHO!t)EE
THE SHOWE~
THE landscape, like the awed face of a child,
Grew curiously blurred; a hush of death
Fell on the fields, and in the darkened wild
The zephyr held its breath.
No wavering glamour-work of light and shade
Dappled the shivering surface of the brook;
The frightened ripples in their ambuscade
Of ~~llows thrilled and shook.
The sullen day grew darker, and anon
Dim flashes of pent anger lit the sky;
With runibling wheels of wrath came rolling on
The storm's artillery.
The cloud above put on its blackest frown,
And then, as with a vengeful cry of pain,
The lightning snatched it, ript and flung it down
In raveled shreds of rain 
THE SHO1~ER              63
~~~Iiile I, transfigured by some wondrous art,
Bowed with the thirsty lilies to the sod,
~fy empty soul brimmed over, and my heart
Drenched with the love of God. 
64             A LIFE-LESSOAr
A L!FE-LESSOW:
THERE! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your doll, I know;
And your tea-set blue,
And your play-house, too,
Are things of the long ago;
But childish troubles will soon pass by,         There! little girl; don't cry!
There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your slate, I know;
And the glad, wild ways
Of your school-girl days
Are things of the long ago;
But life and love will soon come by. -,
There! little girl; don't cry
 
A L!FE.LESSOAr
There! little girl; don't cry
They have hroken your heart, I know;
And the rain how gleams
Of your youthful dreams
Are things of the long ago;
ButHeaven holds all for which you sigh
There! little girl; don't cry 
THE SCAA k~i
T~E SCi?iIVL.
I ~ANT to sing something-but this is all I try and I try, but the rhymes are dull,
As though they were damp, and the echoes fdll
Limp and unlovable.
\~%rds will not say what I yearn to say They will not walk as I want them to;
But they stumble and fall in the path of the vay
Of my telling my 1ove for you.
Simply take what the scrawl is worth —
Knowing I love you as sun the sod
On the ripening side of the great reund earth
That swings in the smile of God. 
AWAY
AW4Y
I CANNOT say, and I will not say
That he is dead.~11e is just away
~Vith a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand,
H~ has wandered into an unknown land,
And left us dreaming how very fair
It needs must be, since he lingers there
And you~0 you, who the wildest yearn
For the old-time step and the glad return
Think of him faring on, as dear
In the love of There as the love of I1ere:
And loyal still, as he gave the blows
of his warrior~strength to his country's foes.
~~ild and gentle, as he was brave,~~hen the sweetest love of his life he gave
To simple things:-~Vhere the violets grew
I)ure as the eyes they were likened to, 
6a                A tVA V
The touches of his hands have strayed
As reveiently as his lips have prayed
When the little brown thrush that harshly chirred
Was dear to him as the mocking-bird;
And he pitied as much as a man in pain'
A writhing honey-bee wet with rain.
Think of him still as the same, I say:
He is uot dead-he is just away 
WHO BJDLS JJ!S TLlIB
WHO BlOES HIS HME.
~VH0 bides his time, and day by day
Faces defeat full patiently,
And lifts a mirthful roundelay,
However poor his fortunes be~He will not fail in any qualm
Of poverty-the paltry dime
It will grow golden in his palm,
~Vho bides his time.
~Vho bides his time-he tastes the sweet
Of honey in the saltest tear;
And though he fares with slowest feet,
Joy mos to meet him, drawing near;
The birds are heralds of his cause,
And like a never-ending rhyme,
The roadsides bloom in his applause,
~Vho hides his time.
~~ho bides his time, and fevers not
In the hot race that none achieves,
Shall wear cool-wreathen laurel, wrought
~~ith crimson berries in the leaves;
 
7          tVHO S~D~S HIS TJML?
And he shall reign a goodly king,
And sway his hand o'er every clinie,
~Vith peace writ on his signet ring,
~Vho bide his time. 
LA UGH7EA~ HOLDING BOTH HIS SIDES 71
fAUGHTER HOLDJNG BO7W HfS SJDES.
AYE, thou varlet!  Laugh away I
All the world's a holiday!
Laugh away, and roar and shout
Till thy hoarse tongue lolleth out
Bloat thy cheeks, and bulge thine eyes
Unto bursting  pelt thy thighs
Vith thy swollen palms, and roar
As thou never hast before
Lustier! wilt thou! peal on peal
Stiflest?  Squat and grind thy heel --
~Vrestie with thy loins, and then
~~heeze thee whiles and whoop again
 
AND iHIS IS FAMi
A]VD THIS IS FAME.
ONCE, in a dream, I saw a man,
WiLh haggard face and tangled hair,
And eyes that nursed as wild a care
As gaunt Starvation ever can;
And in his hand he held a wand
~~ose magic touch gave life and thought
Unto a form his fancy wrought,
And robed with coloring so grand,
It seemed the reflex of some child
Of Heaven, fair and undefiled A face of purity and love To woo him into worlds above:
And as I gazed, with dazzled eyes,
A gleaming smile lit up his lips
As his bright soul from its eclipse
~~ent flashing into Paradise.
Then tardy Fame came through the door
And found a picture -nothing mor~ 
AND 7'HIS IS FAME           73
II.
And once I saw a man, alone,
In abject poverty, with hand
Uplifted o'er a block of stone
That took a shape at his command
And smiled upon him, fair and goodA perfect work of womanhood,
Save that the eyes might never weep,
Nor weary bands be crossed in sleep,
Nor hair th?~ fell from crown to wrist,
Be brushed away, caressed and kissed.
And as in awe I gazed on her,
Isaw the sculptor's chisel fall   I saw him sink, without a moan,
Sink lifeless at the feet of stone,
And lie there like a worshiper.
Fame crossed the threshold of the hall,
And found a statue-that was all.
Is'.
And once I saw a man who drew
A gloom about him like a cloak,
And wandered aimlessly.  The few
~Vho spoke of him at all, but spoke
 
75          AND TJJIS JS FAJIE
Disparagingly of a mind
The Fates had faultily designed:
Too indolent for modern times  Too fanciful, and full of whimsFor, tal~iog to himself in rhymes,
And scrawling never-heard-of hymns,
The idle life to which he clung
Was worthless as the songs he sung!
I saw him, in ray vision, filled
With rapture o'er a spray of bloom
The wind threw in his lonely room;
And of the sweet perfume it spilled
He drank to drunkenness, ~nd flung
His long hair back, and laughed and sung
And clapped his hands as children do
At fairy tales they listen to
While from his flying quill there dripped
Such music on his manuscnpt
That he who listens to the words
May close his eyes and dream the bfrds
Are twittering on every hand
A language he can understand.
He journeyed on through life, unknown
Witlrout o~e friend to call his own
He tired.  No kindly hand to press
The cooling touch of tenderness 
AND THIS IS FAME
Upon his burning brow, nor lift
To his parched lips God's free~t gift
No sympathetic sob or sigh
Of trembling lips-no sorrowing eye
Looked out through tears to see him die,
And Fame her greenest laurels brought
Tt crown a head that heeded not.
And this is fame   A thing, indeed,
That only comes when least the need
Tl~c wiscst minds of every age
The book of life from page to page
llave searched in vain; each lesson conned
~Vill promise it the page beyondUntil the last, when dusk of night
Falls over it, and reason's light
Is smothered by that unknown friend
~Vh) signs his.`ionz d'e~1urne, The End. 
76              ~!i~ BEETLE
THE BEETLE.
THE shrilling locust slowly sheathes
Ills dagger-voice, and creeps away
Eeneath the brooding leaves where breathes
The zephyr of the dying day:
One naked star has waded through
The purple shallows of the night,
And faltering as falls the dew
It drips its misty light.
O'er garden-blooms,
On tides of musk,
The beetle booms adown the glooms
And bumps along the dusk.
The katydid is rasping at
The silence from the tangled hro~~m:
On drunken wings the flitting bat
Goes staggering athwart the gloom:
The toadstool bulges through the weeds;
And lavishly to left and right
The fire-flies, like golden seeds,
Are sown about the mgh~
 
THE BEETLE                 77
O'er slumbrous blooms,
On floods of musk,
The beetle booms adown the glooms
And bumps along the dusk.
The primrose flares its baby-hands
~Vide open, as the empty moon,
Slow lifted from the underlands,
Drifts up the azure-arched lagoon:
The shadows on the garden walk
Are frayed with rifts of silver light
And, trickling down the poppy-stalk,
The dewdrop streaks the nigh~
O'er folded blooms,
On swirls of musk,
The beetle booms adown the glooms
And bumps along the dusk.
 
78             TII~ BROOK-SOW@
THE Bi?OOA~SO2VC.
LITTLE brook!  Little brook!
You have such a happy lookSuch a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and
crook     And your ripples, one and one,
Reach each other's hands and run
Like laughing little children in the sun
Little brook, sing to me:
Sing about a bumblebee
That tumbled from a lily-bell and grumbled mumblingly,
Because he wet the film
Of his wings, and had to swim,
~~ile the water-bugs raced round and laughed
at him!
Little brook-sing a song
Of a leaf that sailed along
Down the golden-braided center of your current swift and
strong, 
TH~ B~OOAt.SOA~              79
And a dragonfly that lit
On the tilting rim of it,
And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.
And sing-how oft in glee
Came a truant boy like me,
\\~ho loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody,
Till the gu~gie and refrain
Of your music in his brain
N\~rooght a happiness as keen to him as pain.
Little brook-Iargh and leap
Do not let the dreamer weep:
Aii~g him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest
sleep;
And then sing soft and low
Througb his dreams of long ago       Sing back to him the rest he used to know 
so              TH~ OLD MAiV
THE OLD AfAN.
Lo! steadfast and serene,
In patient pause between
The seen and the unseen,
What gentle zephyrs fan
Your silken silver hair, -
And what diviner air
Breathes round you like a prayer,
Old Man?
Can you, in nearer view
Of Glory, pierce the blue
Of happy heaven through;
And, listening mutely, can
Your senses, dull to us,
Hear angel-voices thus,
In chorus glorious       Old Man?
In your reposeful gaze
The dusk of Autumn days
Is blent with April haze,
As when of old began 
TH~ OLD A!AN                 8
The bursting of the bud
Of rosy babyhood
When all the world was good,
Old Man.
And yet I find a sly
Little twinkle in your eye;
And your whisperingly shy
Little laugh is simply an
Internal shout of glee
That betrays the fallacy
You'd perpetrate on me,
Old Man!
So just put up the frown
That your brows are pulling down.'
Why, the fleetest boy in town,
As he bared his feet and ran,
Could read with half a glanceAnd of keen rebuke, perchanceYour secret countenance,
Old Man
Now, honestly, confess:
Is an old man any less
Than the little child we bless
And caress when we can?
G 
THE OLD MA~
Isn't age but just a place
~Vhere you mask the childish face
To preserve its inner grace,
Old Man?
Hasn't age a truant clay,
Just as that you went astray
In the wayward, restless way,
When, brown with dust and tan,
Your roguish face essayed,
In solemn masquerade,
To hide the smile it made,
Old Man?
Now, fair, and square, and true,
I)on't your old soul tremble through,
As in youth it used to do
~Vhen it brimmed and overran
With the strange, enchanted sights,
And the splendors and delights
Of the old "Arabian Nights,"
Old Man?
When, haply, you have fared
Where glad Aladdin shared
His lamp with you, and dared
The Afrite and his clan; 
THE OLD MAN
And, with him, clambered through
The trees where jewels grewAnd filled your pockets, too,
Old Man?
Or, with Sinbad, at seaAnd in veracity
~Vho has sinned as bad as he,
Or would, or will, or can?
~Iave you listened to his lies,
~Vith open mouth and eyes,
And learned his art likewise,
Old ~Ian ~
And you need not deny
That your eyes were wet as`Iry,
Reading novels on the sly!
And review them, if you can,
And the same warm ears wil f~IOnly faster, that is allOver Little Nell and Paul,
Old Man!
0, you were a lucky lad —
Just as good as you were had
And the host of friends you had    Charley, Ton~, and Dick, and Dan;
G2 
5               THE OLD AfAN
And the old school-teacher, too,
Though he often censured you;
And the girls in pink and blue,
Old Man.
And~-as often you have leant,
In boyish sentiment,
To kiss the letter sent
By Nelly, Belle, or Nan~Vherein the rose's hoe
~Vas red, the violet blue
And sugar sweet-and you,
Old ~i~n,
So, to.day, as lives the bloom
And the sweetness, and perfume
Of the blossoms, I assume,
On the same mysterious plati
The Master's love assures,
That the self-same boy endures
In that hale old heart of yours,
Old Man. 
TO ROBLPT BU~AS            5
TO ROBERT BURNS.
S~VEET SINGER, that I loe the maist
0' ony, sin' Wi' eager haste
I smackit bairn.lips ower the taste
0' hinnied sang,
I hail thee, though a blessed gliaist
In Heaven lang!
~or, weel I ken, nae cantie phrase,
Nor courtly airs, nor lairdly ways,
Could gar me freer blame, or praise,
Or proffer hand,
~Vhere "Rantin' Robbie" and his lQvs
Thegither stand.
And sae these hamely lines I send,
~Vi' jinglin' words at ilka end,
In echoe of the sangs that wend
Frae thee to me
Like simmer.brooks, Wi' mony a hend
0' wimplin' glee. 
86            TO ROBERT BURNS
In f~ncy, as Wi' dewy een,
I part the clouds aboon the scene
~Vhere thou wast born, and peer atween,
I see nae spot
In a' the Hielands half sae green
And unforgot!
I see nae storied castle-hall,
~Vi' banners flauntin' ower the wall,
And serf and page in ready call,
Sae grand to me
As ane puir cotter's hut, wi' all
Its poverty.
There where the simple daisy grew
Sae bonnie sweet, and modest, too,
Thy liltin' filled its wee head fu'
0' sic a grace,
It aye is weepin' tears 0' dew
~Vi' droopit face.
Frae where the heather bluebells fling
Their sangs 0' fragrance to the Spring,
To where the lavrock soars to sing,
Still lives thy strain,
For a' the birds are twittering
Sangs like thine ain. 
TO ROBERT BURNS              37
And aye, by light 0' sUn or moon,
By banks 0' Ayr, or Bonnie Doon,
The waters lilt nae tender tune
But sweeter seems
Because they poured their limpid rune
Through a' thy dreams.
~ri brimmin' lip, and laughin' ee,
Thou shookest even Grief Wi' glee,
Yet had nae niggart sympathy
~`here Sorrow bowed,
But gavest a' thy tears as free
As a' thy gowd.
And sae it is we loe thy name
To see bleeze up Wi' sic a flame,
That a' pretentious stars 0' fame
Maun blink askient,
To see how simple worth may sham
Their brightest glent.  
SONNE TS  
PAN
PAK
THIS Pan is but an idle god, 1 guess,
Since all the fair midsummer of my dreams
lie loiters listlessly by woody streams,
Soaking the lush glooms up with laziness;
Or drowsing while the maiden-winds caress
Him prankishly, and powder him with gleams
Of sifted sunshine.  And he ever seems
Dr~gged with a joy unutterable-unless
His low pipes whistle hints of it far out
Across the ripples to the dragonfly
That, like a w~nd-horne Nossom blown about,
Drops quiveringly down, as though to die
Then lifts and wavers on, as if in doubt
~Vhether to fan his wings or fly without. 
9                  DUSK
DUSA:
THE frightened herds of clouds across the sky
Trample the sunshine down, and chase the day
Into the dusky fbrest-lands of gray
And sombre twilight.  Far, and faint, and high,
The wild goose trails his harrow, with a cry
Sad as the wail of some poor castaway
~Vho sees a vessel drifting far astray
Of his last hope, and lays him down to die.
The children, riotous from school, grow bold,
And quarrel with the wind whose angry gust
Plucks off the summer-hat, and flaps the fold
Of many a crimson cloak, and twirls the dust
~n spiral shapes grotesque, and dims the gold
Of gleaming tresses with the blur of rust. 
7UNE                    93
JUNE.
o QUEENLY month of indolent repose!
I drink thy breath in sips of rare perfume,
As in thy downy lap of clover-bloom
I nestle like a drowsy child, and doze
The lazy hours away.  The zephyr throws
The shifting shuttle of the summer's loom,
And weaves a damask-work of gleam and gloom
Before thy listless feet: the lily blows
A bugle-call of fragrance o'er the glade;
And, wheeling into ranks, with plume and spear,
Thy harvest-armies gather on parade;
While, faint and far away, yet pure and clear,
A voice calls out of alien lands of shade,  "All hail the Peerless Goddess of the Year!" 
94               SILENCE
SILENCE.
THOUSANDS and thousands of hushed years ago,
Out on the edge of Chaos, all alone
I stood on peaks of vapor, high upthrown
Above a sea that knew nor ebb nor flow,
Nor any motion won of winds that blow,
Nor any sound of watery wail or moan,
Nor lisp of wave, nor wandering undertone
Of any tide lost in the night below.
So still it was, I mind me, as I laid
My thirsty ear against mine own faint sigh
To drink of that, I sipped it, half afraid
`Twas but the ghost of a dead voice spilled by
The one starved star that tottered through the shade,
And came tiptoeing toward me down the sky.
 
TUCK
PUcA
O JT was Puck   I saw bim yesternight
Swung up betwixt a phlox-top and the rim
Of a low crescent moon that cradled him,
NVhirring his rakish wings with all his might,
And pursing his wee mouth, that dimpled white
And red, as though some dagger keen and slirn
Had stung him there, while ever faint and dim
Ilis eerie warblings piped his high delight;
Till I, grown jubilant, shrill answer made,
At which, all suddenly, he dropped from view;
And peering ~fter,`neath the everglade,
~Vhat was it, do you think, I saw him do?
I saw him peeling dewdrops with a blade
Of starshine sharpened on his bat-wing shoe~ 
96                SLEEP
SLEEP.
THou drowsy god, whose blurred eyes, half awink,
Muse on me,-drifting out upon thy dreams,
I lave niy soul as in enchanted streams,
~Vhere reveling satyrs pipe along the brink,
And, tipsy with the melody they drink,
Uplift their dangling hooves and down the beams
Of sunshine dance like motes.  Thy languor seems
An ocean-depth of love wherein I sink
Like some fond Argonaut, right willingly, -
Because of wooing eyes upturned to mine,
And siren-arms that coil their sorcery
About my neck, with kisses so divine,
The heavens reel above me, and the sea
Swallows and licks its wet lips over me.
 
H~R HAIR                97
HER HAIR.
THE beaaty of her hair bewilders me  Pourh~ ad own the brow, its cloven tide
Swfrling about the ears on either side,
And storming round the neck tumultuously:
Or like the lights of old antiquity
Through mullioned windows, in cathedrals wide.
Spilled moltenly o'er figures deified
In chastest marble, nude of drapery.
And so I love it. -Either unconfined;
Or plaited in close braidings manifold;
Or smoothly drawn; or indolently twined
In careless knots whose coilings come unrolled
At any lightest kiss; or by the wind
~Vhipped out in flossy ravelings of gold
H 
TO THE CRICKET
TO THE CRJCKE7:
TI~E chiming seas may clang; and Tubal Cain
~lay clink his tinkling metals as he may;
Or Pan may sit and pipe his breath away;
Or Orpheus wake his most entrancing strain
Till not a note of melody remain
But thou, 0 cricket, with thy roundelay,
Shalt laugh them all to scorn!  So wilt thou, pray,
Trill me thy glad song o'er and o'er again:
I shall not weary; there is purest worth
In thy sweet prattle, since it sings the lone
Heart home again.  Thy warbling hath no deartb
Of childish memories-no harsher tone
Than we might listen to in gentlest mirth,
Thou poor plebeian minstrel of the hearth.
 
TH~ S~R~NADE                99
THE SERENADE.
Tiist midnight is not more bewildering
To her drowsed eyes, than, to her ears, the sound
Of dim, sweet singing voices, interwound
With purl of flute and subtle twang of string,
Strained through the lattice, where the roses cling,
And, with their fragrance, waft the notes around
Her haunted senses.  Thirsting beyond bound
Of her slow-yielding dreams, the lilt and swing
Of the mysterious, delirious tune,
She drains like some strange opiate, with awed eyes
Upraised against her casement, where, aswoon,
The stars fail from her sight, and up the skies
Of alien azure, rolls the full round moon
Like some vast bubble blown of summer noon.
II 2 
zoo       WHF~ SHE COMES HOME
WHEN SHE COMES HOME.
~VHEN she comes home again!  A thousand ways
I fashion, to myself, the tenderness
Of my glad welcome: I shall tremble-yes;
And touch her, as when first in the old days
I touched her girlish hand, nor dared upraise
~1ine eyes, such was my faint heart's sweet distress.
Then silence: And the perfume of her dress:
The room will sway a little, and a haze
Cloy eyesight-soulsight, even-for a space
And tears-yes; and the ache here in the throat,
To know that I so ill deserve the place
Her arms make for me; and the sobbing note
I stay with kisses, ere the tearful face
Again is hidden in the old embrace.
 
HO OS 1111? DiALECT  
GRIGOSBY'S' STA TION
GRJGGSB Y'S STA TWK.
PAP'S got his patent right, and rich as all creation;
But where's the peace and comfort that we all had
before?
Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby's Station  Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore!
The likes of us a-livin' here!  It's jest a mortal pity
To see us in this great big house, with cyarpets on the
stairs,
And the pump right in the kitcben!  And the city!
city! city! -
And nothin' but the city all around us ever'wheres!
Climb clean above the roof and look from the steeple,
And never see a robin, nor a beech or ellum tree!
And right here in ear-shot of at least a thousan' people,
And none that neighbors with us, or we want to go
and see! 
GRJGGSBY'S STAHOAr
Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby's Station  Back where the latch-string's a.hangin' from the door,
And ever' neighbor`round the place is dear as a rela      tion  Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore!
I want to see the Wiggenses, the whole kit and bilin'
A-drivin' up from Shallor Ford to stay the Sunday
through;
And I want to see`em hitchin' at their son-in-law's and
pilin'
Out there at`Lizy Ellen's like they ust to do!
I want to see the piece-quilts the Jones girls is makin';
And I want to pester Laury`bout their freckled hired
hand,
And joke her`bout the widower she come purt' nigh
a-takin',
Till her pap got his pension`lowed in time to save his
land.
Le's go a-visitin back to Griggsby's Station  Back where they's nothin' aggervatin' anymore;
Shet away safe in the woods around the old location  Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore I
 
GRIGGSRY'S STATION            105
I want to see Marindy and he'p her with her sewin',
And hear her talk so lovin' of her man that's dead and
gone,
And stand up with Emanuel to show me how he's growin',
And smile as I have saw her`fore she put her mournin'
on.
And I want to see the Samples, on the old lower
eighty
~Vhere John our oldest boy, he was tuk and hurried
for
His own sake and Katy's,-and I want to cry with Katy
As she reads all his letters over, writ from The ~Var.
~Vhat's in all this grand life and high situation,
And nary pink nor hollyh~wk bloomin' at the door?Le's go a.visitin' back to Griggsby's Station Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore!
 
io6       kNEE-DEEP IN 7UNE
KNEE-DEEP IN JUNE
ITELL you what I like the best`Long about knee-deep in June,
`Bout the time strawberries melts
On the vines-some afternoon
Like to jes' git out and rest,
And not work at nothin' else!
`I
Orchard's where I'd ruther beNeedn't fence it in fer me!
Jes' the whole sky overhead,
And the whole airth underneath
Sorto' so's a man kin breathe
Like he ort, and kindo' has
Elbow-room to keerlessly
Sprawl out len'tbways on the gras~,
Where the shadders thick and soft
As the kivvers on the bed
Mother fixes in the loft
Ai!i~s, when they's company! 
KNEE-DEEP IN 7UNE
II.
Jes' a sorto' lazein' there  ~`lazy,`at you peek and peer
Through the wavin' loaves above,
Like a feller`ats in love
And don't know it, ner don't keer!
Ever'thing you hear and see
Got some sort 0' interest    Maybe find a bluebird's nest
T~cked up there conveenently
Fer the boys`ats apt to be
Up some other apple-tree!
Watch the swaders skootin' past
`Bout as peert as you could ast;
Er the Bobwhite raise and whiz
Where some other's whistle is.
Iv.
Ketch a shadder down below,
And look up to find the crow;
Er a hawk away up there,
`Pearantly froze in the air!  Hear the old hen squawk, and squat
Over every chick she's got,
Suddent-like -And she knows where 
io8             K2V~E-D~EP IN 7UN~
That-air hawk is, well as you
You jes' bet yer life she do
Eyes a-glittering like glass,
~Vaitin' till he makes a pass!
V.
Pee-wees' singin', to express
My opinion,`5 second class,
Vit you'll hear`em more er less;
Sapsucks gittin' down to biz,
Weedin' out the lonesomeness;
~Ir. Bluejay, full 0' sass,
In them base-ball clothes 0' his,
Sportin'`round the orchard jes'
Like he owned the premises!
Sun out in the fields kin sizz,
But ~at on yer back, I guess,
In the shade's where glory is!
That's jes' what I'd like to do
Stiddy fer a year er two
VL
Plague! ef they aint sompin' in
Work`at kindo' goes agin 
KNEE-DEE? IN 7UNE             109
My convictions -`long about
Here in June especially
Under some old apple tree,
Jes' a-restin' through and through,
I could git along without
Nothin' else at all to do
Only jes' a-within' you
Was a-gittin' there like me,
And June was eternity!
VII.
Lay out there and try to see
Jes' how lazy you kin be
Tumble round and souse yer head
In the clover-bloom, er pull
Ver straw hat acrost yer eyes,
And peek through it at the skies,
Thinkin' of old chums`ats dead,
Maybe, smilin' back at you
In betwixt the beautiful
Clouds 0' gold and white and blue ~
Month a man kin railly love   June, you know, I'm talkin' of!
VIII.
March aint never nothin' new
Aprile's altogether too
 
~1o        KNEE-DEEP LV 7UiVE
Brash fer me! and May-I jes'
`Bominate its promises,   Lit tic hints 0' sunshine and
Green around the timber-land  A few blossoms, and a few
Chip-birds, and a sprout er two  Drap asleep, and it turns in
`Fore daylight and snows agin
But when June comes-Clear iny throat
~Vith wild honey!  Rench my hair
Inthe dew! and hold my coat!
~~~hoop out loud! and throw my hat! -~
June wants me, and I'm to spare!
Spread them shadders anywhere,
I'll git down and wailer there,
And obleeged to you at that!
 
LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE           lEK
LITTLE O~PHANT ANNIE.
LITTLE Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay
An'wash the cups and saucers up, and brush the crum~s
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 children, when the supper things is done,
NVe 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
~Vatch
Out!
Onc't they was a little boy wouldn't say his pray'rsAn' when he went to bed`at night, away up staiis, 
Ir'         LITTLE O~PHANT ANNIE
Ilismammy heerd him holler, an' his daddy heerd 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,
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I
guess,
But all they ever found was thist his pants an' round.
about
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 ever' one 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, 
LJTTLP ORPHA~T AfVNJE
An' they snatched her through the ceilin'`fore she know'd
what she's about
An' the gohble.uns`11 git you
Ef you
Don't
~Vatch
Out!
An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An' the lampwick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-on
An' you bear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray
An' t'~e lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,
Vcu l~etter mind yer parents, and yer teachers fond and
de~r,
An' cburi~h 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`11 git you
Ef you
Don't
~Vatch
Out! 
I'             THE AIRLY DAYS
THE AJELY DAYS.
OH! tell me a tale of the airly days
Of the times as they ust to be;
"Piller of Fire," and  Shakspeare's Plays,'~
Is a`most too deep fer me
I want plain facts, and I want plain words,
Of the good old-fashioned ways,
N\~hen speech run free as the songs of birds`NVay back in the airly day~
Tell me a tale of the timber-lands,
And the old-time pioneersSomepin' a poor n'an understands
~Vith his feelin's, well as cars
Tell of the old log house,-about
The lOft) and the puncheon floorfhe old fire-place, with the crane swung out,
And the latch-string through the door.
 
THE AJELY DAIS               "S
Tell of the things jest like they ~vuz -
They don't need no Lxcuse
Don't tetch`em up like the pocts does,
Till they're all too fine fer use
Say they`vuz leven in the f~mily
Two beds and the chist below,
And the trunde-beds`at each helt three;
And the clock and the old buieau.
Then blow the horn at the old hack door
Till the echoes all hallon,
And the childern gethers home onc't more,
Jest as they ust to do
Blow fer Pap till he hears and comes,
~~ith Tomps and Elias, too,
A-rsarchin' home, with the fife and drums,
And the old Red NVhite and Blue
Blow and blow-till the sound draps low
As the moan of the whipperwill,
And wake up Mother, and Ruth, and Jo,
All sleepin' at Bethel Hill
Blow and call till the faces all
Shine out in the back-log's blaze,
And the shadders dance on the old hewed wall,
As they did in the airy days. 
ir6   LIKE HIS?rOHIfl'~ USED TO AfAKE
LJAE H!S!JOTHEf~ USED TO HAKE.
"L'NCLE JAKE's PLACE," ST. 30., MO., 1874.
I WAS born in Indiany," says a stranger, lank an~
slim,
A us fellers in the restarunt was kindo' guyin' him,
And Uncle Jake was ~lidin' him another punkin pie
And a' extry cup 0' coffee, with a twinkle in his eye,"I u'ss born in Indiany-more'n forty year agoAnd I hain't ben back in twenty  and I'm workin' hack
`ards slow;
Put I've et in ever' restarunt twixt here and Santy Fee,
And I want to state thi  coffee tastes like gittin' home,
to me!
"I'our us out another, Daddy," says the feller, warmin'
up'
A-speakin'`crust a sauc~rful, as Uncle tuk his cup, ~Vhen I seed yer Sign out yander," he went on, to
Uncle ~a!~e, -
`C~me in and gi s~me cofl~e like yer mother used tn
make 
LIKE HIS MO THEE USED TO MAKE       117
I thought of 9~?~ old mother, and the Posey county farm,
And me a little kid again, a-hangin' in her arm,
As she set the pot a~bilin', broke the eggs and poured
`em in"
And the feller kindo' halted, with a trimble in his chin:
And Uncle Iake he fetched the fti!er's coffee back, and
~tood
As solemn, fer a minute, as a' undert&~er would
Then he sorto' turned and tiptoed to'rds the kitcl~en door
and next,
here conse his old ~~ife out with him, a-rubbin' of her
specsAnd ~he rushes fer the stranger, and she hollers out, "It's
him
Th~nk God we've met him comin' -Don't you know
yer mother, Jim?
And the feller, as he grabbed her, says,-" You bet I
hain't forgot~ut," wipin' of his ayes, says he, " yer coffee~s mighty
hot 
~~5   THE LITliE TOUW 0' TA!LHOL 7
TilE LiTTLE TO!V2V 0' TAHilOLT
VC)U kin boast about yer cities, and their stiddy growth
and size,
And brag about yer count}'-seats, and business enter
prise,
And railroads, and factories, and all sich foolery"Lit the little Town 0' Tailholt is big enough fer me
Vj'~i c~n harp about yer churches, with their steeples iii
the clouds,
And gas about yer graded streets, and blow about yer
crowds
You kin talk about yer theatres, and all you've got to
seeL,jt the little Town o' Tailbolt is show enough fer me
They haint no style in our town-hit's little like and
smallThey haint no cJrtrclies, nuther,-jes' the meetin'-house
is all
They's no sidewalks, to spcak of-hut the highway's allus
And the little Towi~ 0' Tai~i~o't is wide enough fer me! 
THE LJTTLE TOWN 0' TA IL HOLT       ii~
Sj-me finds it's discommodin'-like, I'm willin' to admit,
To hev but one post-office, and a womern keepin' hit,
And the drugstore, and shoeshop, and grocery, ali
three
But tl~e little Town 0' Tailbolt is handy`nough fer me
You kin smile, and turn yer nose up, and joke and hev
yer fun,
And laugh and holler "Tail-holts is better holts`n
none!
Ef the city suits you better, w'y, hits where you'd oit
to beBut the little Town 0' Tailbolt`5 good enough fer me 
NOTHLv' TO SA Y
WOTH!W' TO SAY.
NoTHIN' to say, my daughter!  Nothio' at all to say
Gyrls that's in love, I've noticed, ginerly has their way
Ver mother did, afore you, when her folks objected to
Yithere f am, and here yo'~ air; and yer mother-where
is she?
You looks lots like yer mother: Purty much same in siza;
And about the same complected; and favor abeut the
eyes:
Like her, too, about livin' here,-because she couldn't
stay
It'll`niost seem like you was dead-like her!-but I
hain't got nothin' to say!
Sheleft you her little Bible-writ yer name acrost the
pageAnd left her ear-bobs fer you, ef ever you come of age.
I've allus kep'`em and gyuarded`em, but ef yer goin'
awayNothin' to say, my daughter!  Nothin' at all to say! 
NOTHTh TO SAY              121
You don't rikollect her, I reckon?  No; you wa~n~t a
year old then
And now yer- how old air you?  ~V'y, child, not
"tw?fl4y!"  ~Vhen?
And yer flex' birthday's in Aprile? and you want to git
n~arried that day?
~... I wisht yer mother was livin' -hut- I hain~t got
nothin' to say!
Twenty year! and as good a gyri as parent ever found
There's a straw ketched onto yer dress there-I'll bresh
it off-turn round.
(her mother was jes' t~enty when us two run away!)
Nothin' to say, my daughter!  Nothin' at all to say! 
THE OLD SWIMMIN'-HOLE AND
SEVEN MORE POEMS
AUTHOR'S NOTE.
As far bac~ into boyhood as the wmter's memory may intelligently
go, the "country poet" is most pleasantly recalled. He was, an~
5, as common as the "country fiddler," and as full of gocd oldfs5hioned music. Not a master of melody, indeed, but a poet
certainly
~Vho, through long (~ays of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies."
A~d it is simply the purpose of tisis concluding series of dialecti
Studies to reflect the real wofth of this homely child of Nature, an~
to rebo faithfully, if possible, the faltering music of his song. 
THE OLD St~'1MM IN`-HOLE       123
TH~ OLD SWh~fMfN'-ffOLE.
Uii  tlie old swimmin'-hole! whare the crick so still and
deep
Looked like a baby -river that was layin' half asleep,
And the gurgle of the worter round the drift jest below
~ounded like the laugh of something we onc't ust to know
before we could remember anything but the eyes
Of the angels look in' out as we left Paradise;
Put the merry days of youth is beyond our control,
And it's hard to part ferever with the old swimmin'-hole.
Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! In the happy days of yore,
\Vhen 1 ust to lean above it on the old sickamore,
Oli! it showed me a face in its warm sunny tide
That gazed back at me so gay and glorified,
It made me love myself, as I leaped to caress
~Iy shadder smilin' up at me with sech tenderness.
butthem days is past and gone, and old Time`5 tuck his
toll
From the old man con~e back to the old swimmin' hole. 
124       THE OLD StV!MMhV'-HOLE
Oh! the old swimmin'-holc!  in the long, lazy days
When the hum-drum of school made so many run-a-ways,
How plesant was the jurney down the old dusty lane,
Whare the tracks of our bare feet was all printed so plain
You could tell by the dent of the heel and the sole
They was lots of fun on hands at the old swimmin'-hol~
But the lost joys is past!  Let your tears in sorrow roll
Like the rain that ust to dapple up the old swimmin'   hole.
Thare the bullrushes growed, and the cat-tails so tall.
And the sunshine and shadder fell over it all;
And it mottled the worter with amber and gold
Till the glad lilies rocked in the ripples that rolled
And the snake-feeder's four gauzy wings fluttered bv
Like the ghost of a daisy dropped out of the sky,
Or a wowoded apple-blossom in the breeze's control,
As it cut acrost some orchard to'rds the old swimmin'
hol~
Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! When I last saw the place,
The scenes was all changed like tbe change, in my face:
The bridge of the railroad now crosses the spot
Whare the old divin' -log lays sunk and fergot.
And I stray down the banks whare the trees ust to beBut never again will their shade shelter me!
And I wish in my sorrow I could strip to the soul,
And dive off in my grave like the old swimmin'-hole. 
THOUGHTS PER THE DISCURAGED FARMER ~25
TllOUCllTS FF2? T~F DiSCURAGED
FA 2?ME2?.
Ti IF summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin' locus'
trees
And the clover in the pastur' is a big day fer the bees,
Andthey been a-swiggin' honey, above hoard and on the
sly,
Till they stutter in their buzzin', and stagger as they fly.
Tl~e flicker on the fe~ce-rail`pears to jest spit on his
wings
And roll up his feathers, by the sassy way he sings;
And the boss-fly is a-whettin'-up his forelegs fer biz,
And the off-mare is a-switchin' all of her tale they is!
Voucan hear the blackbirds jawin' as they foller up the
plowOh,theyr hound to git theyr brekfast, and theyr not a
carin' how;
So they quarrel in the flirnes, and they quarrel on the
wingBut theyr peaceabler in pot-pies than any other thing: 
~26 THOUGHTS FEE THE DJSCUEAGED FARAJER
And it's when I git my shotgun drawed up in stiddy rest,
She's as full of tribbelation as a yaller-jacket's nest
And a few shots before dinner, when the sun's a-shinin'
right,
Seems to kindo-sorto sharpen up a feller's appetite!
They's been a heap 0' rain, but the sun's out to-day,
And the clouds of the wet spell is all cleared away,
And the woods is all the greener, and the grass is greener
still;
It may rain again to-morry, bat I don't think it will.
Some says the crops is ruined, and the corn's drownded
out,
And propha-sy the wheat will be a failure, without
doubt;
But the kind Providence that has never failed us yet,
~~ill be on hands onc't more at the`leveuth hour, I bet
Does the medder-lark complain, as he swims high and
dry
Through the waves of the wind and the blue of the sky?
Does the quail set up and whistle in a disappinted way,
Er hang his head in silence, and sorrow all the day?
Is the chip muck's health a-failin'?  Does he walk, er
does he run?
Don~t the buzzards ooze around up thare jest like they've
allus done? 
j71&UG!!TS FE? THE D!SCUEAGED PAEMER 127
Is they anything the matter with the rooster's lungs er
voice?
Ort a mortal be complainin' when dumb animals rejoice?
Then Ict us, one and all, be contented with our lot
The June is here this mo~ning, and the sun I ~hinin
hut.
let us fill our harts up with the glory of the clay,
And banish ev'ry doubt and care and sorrow far away
NVhatever be our station, with Providence fer guide,
i~eh fine circumstances ort to make us satisfied;
fter tl~e ~vur1d is full of roses, and the roses full of dew,
And the dew is full of heavenly love that drips for me
an4 you 
123          A SUAfAJEI?'S DA~
A SUm~L~'s BAY.
THE Summer's put the idy in
~Iy head that I'm a boy again
And all around's so bright and gay
I want to put my team away,
And jest git out whare I can lay
And soak my hide full of the day
But work is work, and must be doneVit, as I work, I have my fun,
Jest f?tncyin' these furries here
Is childhood's paths onc't more so dear
And so I walk through medder-lands,
And country lanes, and swampy trails
Whare long bulirushes bresh my hands
And, tilted on the ridered rails
Of dead'nin' fences, "01(1 Bob White'
N~~istles his name in high delight,
And whirrs away.  I wonder still,
Whichever way a boy's fet ~~ill 
A SUMMER'S DAY                12@
Whare trees has fell, with tangled tops
~Vhare dead leaves shakes, I stop fer breth,
Heerin' the acorn as it drops  H'istin' my chin up still as deth,
And watchin' clos't, with upturned eyes,
The tree whare ~Ir. Squirrel tries
To hide hisse'f above the limb,
But lets his own tale tell on him.
I wonder on in deeper glooms  Git hungry, hearin' female cries
From old farm-houses, whare perfumes
Of harvest dinners seem to rise
And ta'nt a feller, hart and brane,
`vitn memories he can't explain.
I wunder through the underbresh,
~Vhare pig-tracks, pintin' to'rds the crick,
Is picked and printed in the fresh
Black bottom-lands, like wimmern pick
Their pie-crusts with a fork, some way,
When bakin' fer camp-meetin' day.
I wonder on and on nud on,
Till my gray hair and beard is gone,
And every wrinkle on my brow
Is rubbed clean out, and shaddered now
K 
30           A SUMM~R'3Th4Y
~Vith curls as brown and fare and tine
As tenderls of the wild grape-vine
That ust to climb the highest tree
To keep the ripest ones fer me.
I wunder still, and here I am
~Vadin' the ford below the damThe worter chucklin' round my knee
At hornet-welt and bramble scratch,
And me a-slippin'`crost to see
Ef Tyner's plums is ripe, and size
The old man's wortermelon-patch,
~Vith juicy mouth and drouthy eyes.
Then, after sich a day of mirth
And happiness as worlds is worth  So tired that heaven seems nigh about, -
The sweetest tiredness on earth
Is to git home and flatten ou~So tired you can't lay flat enough,
And sort 0' wish that you could spred
Out like molasses on the bed,
And jest drip off the aidges in
The dreams that never comes aaain. 
TO W~ OLD A~GHBOA, WJLLL4~Wt LFACHMAW ~3I
TO MI OLD NE CHB Ok, tWLLiAM
LEA CJiAL4Y~
FER forty year and better you have been a friend to me,
Through days of sore afflictions and dire adversity,
Vou allus bad a kind word of counsel to impart,
~Vhich was like a healin'`intment to the sorww of my
hart.
~Vhen I burried my first womern, N\~illiam Leachman, it
was you
I~ad the only consolation that I could listen toFer I knowed you had gone through it and had rallied
from the blow,
And when you said I'd do the same, I knowed you'd ort
to know.
But that time I'll long remember; how I w~mdered here
and thareThrough the settin'-room and kitchen, and out in the
open air 
32 TO MY OLD NEGHBOR, WILL JAM L~ACHMA]V
And the snowflakes whirlin', whirlin', and the fields a
frozen glare,
And the neghbors' sleds and wagons congregatin' ev'ry    whare.
I turned my eyes to'rds heaven, but the sun was hid
away;
I turned my eyes to'rds earth again, but all was cold and
gray;
And the clock, like ice a-crackin', clickt the icy hours in
twoAnd my eyes`d never thawed out ef it hadn't been fer
you!
~Ve set thare by the smoke-house-me and you out thar~
aloneMe a-thinkin'-you a-talkin' in a soothin' undertoneYou a-talkin'-me a-thin k in' of the summers long ago,
And a-writin' "Marthy-Marthy" with my finger in the
snow!
~Villiam Leachman, I can see you jest as plain as I could
then;
And your hand is on my shoulder, and you rouse me up
again;
And I see the tears a~drippin? from your own eyes, as
you say:
Be reconciled and bear it- we but linger fer a day! 
~o MY OLD NL~HSO1?, WJLLL4M LEACHMAN 133
At the last Old Settlers' ~Ieetin', we went j'intly, you
and meYour hosses and my wagon, as you wanted it to be;
And sence I can remember, from the time we've negh    bored here,
In all sich friendly actions you have double-done your
sheer.
It was better than the meetin', too, that 9-mile talk we
had
Of the times when we first settled here and travel was so
bad;
When we had to go on boss-back, and sometimes on
"Shanks's mare,"
And "blaze" a road fer them behind that had to trav~l
hare.
And now we was a-trottin'`long a level gravel pike,
In a big two-hoss road-wagon, jest as easy as you likeTwo of us on the front seat, and our wimern-folks
behind,
A-settin' in theyr Nvin'sor cheers in perfect peace of
mind!
And we p'inted out old landmarks, nearly faded out of
sight
Tb are they ust to rob the stage-coach;  thare Gash
N~Iorgan had the fight 
~4 TO MY OLD NECHBO~, WILLIAM LEACTh3iA~
~Vith the old stag-deer that pronged him-how he battled
fer his life,
And lived to prove the story by the handle of his knif~
Thare the first griss-mill was put up in the settlement,
and we
Had tuck our grind in' to it in the fall of Forty-three~~hen we tuck our rifles with us, techin' elhows all the
way,
And a-stickin' right together ev'ry minute, night and
day.
Thare ust to stand the tavern that they called the "Tra    velers' Rest,"
And thare, beyent the covered bridge,` The Counter    fitters' Nest
~Vhare they claimed the house was ha'nted-that a man
was murdered thare,
And hurried underneath the floor, er round the place
somewbare.
Ap.d the old Plank Road they laid along in Fifty-one er
twoYou know we talked about the times when that old road
was new 
7V MY OLD NEGHBO1?, lYILLiAM LEA CHMA A  i3~
How "Uncle Sam" put down that road and never taxed
the State
~Vas a problum, don't you rickollect, we couldn't
dimonstrate?
~Vays was devious, ~Villiam Leachman, that me and you
has past;
But as I found you true at first, I find you true at last,
And, now the time's a-cumin' mighty nigh our jurney'
end,
I want to throw wide open all my soul to you, my
friend.
~Vith the stren'th of all my hein', and the heat of hart
and brane,
And ev'ry livin' drop of blood in artery and vane,
I love you and respect you, and I venerate your name,
Fer the name of ~Villiam Leachman and True Manhood's
jest the same 
36  lUHEN THE FEOST IS' ON THE ~UA~hV
t~ftEN THE FEOST IS ON THE PUNK!A?~
~VflflN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the
shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin'
turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the
hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
o it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
~Vith the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful
rest,
As he leaves the house, bare-headed, and goes out to feed
the stock,
~Vhen the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the
shock.
They's something kindo' hearty-like about the atmo   sphere
~Vhen the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is
here 
JVHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN  137
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the
trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the
bees;
13ut the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through
the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mockWhen the frost is on the punkin aud the fodder's in the
shock.
The husky, i~usty rustle of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the
morn;
The stubble in the furries-kindo' lonesome-like, but
still
A-preachin' sermons to us of the barns they growed to
fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the
shed;
The bosses in theyr stalls below-the clover overhead
0, it sets my heart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the
shock! 
:38             MY PHILOSOFY
A!Y PHiLOSOFY.
I AINT, ner don't p'tend to be,
Much posted on philosofy;
But thare is times, when all alon~,
I work out idees of mv own.
And of these same thare is a few
I'd like to jest refer to youPervidin' that you don't object
To listen clos't and rickollect.
I allus argy that a man
~Vho does about the best he can
Is plenty good enough to suit
This lower mundane instituteNo matter ef his dailv walk
Is subject fer his neghbor's talk,
And critic-minds of ev'ry whim
Jest all git up and go fer him!
I knowed a feller onc't that bad
The yaller-janders mighty bad,
And each and ev'ry friend he'd meet
~Vould stop and give him some receet 
MY PHiLOSOFY
Fer cuorin' of`em.  But he'd say
He kind 0' thought they'd go away
Without no medicin', and hoast
That he'd git well without one doste.
He kep' a yallerin' on-and they
Perdictin' that he'd die some day
Before he knowed it!  Tuck his hed,
The feller did, and lost his head,
And wundered in his mind a spellThen rallied, and, at last, got well
But ev'ry friend that said he'd die
`vent hack on him eternaly!
Its natchural enough, I guess,
When some gits more and some gits less,
Fe~ thern-uns on the slimmest side
To claim it aint a fair divide;
And I've knowed some to lay and wait,
And git up soon, and set up late,
To ketch some feller they could hate
Fer goin' at a faster gait.
The signs is had when folks commence
A findin' fault with Providence,
And balkin'`cause the earth don't shake
At ev'ry prancin' step they take. 
"0            MY PHILOSOFY
No man is great till he can see
How less than little he would be
Ef stripped to self, and stark and bare
He hung his sign out anywbare.
~Iy doctern is to lay aside
Con tensions, and be satisfied:
Jest do your best, and praise er blame
That follers that, counts jest the same.
I've alius noticed grate success
Is mixed with troubles, more or less,
And it's the man who does the best
That gits more kicks than all the rest. 
DEATH OF LITTLE AfAHALA ASHCRAFT  i~r
ON THE DEATH OF LJTTLE AfAHALA
ASHC~AFT.
"LITTLE Haly! Little Haly cheeps the rohin in the
tree
Little Haly   sighs the clover, "Little Haly   moans
the hee;
Little Haly! Little Haly! " calls the killdeer at twi   light;
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 gardenwalks still holds her foot   prints' dents
Aud the well-sweep's swingin' hucket seems to wait fer her
to come
And start it on its wortery errant down the old hee-gum.
The bee-hives all is quiet, and the little Jersey steer,
~~~l0eII any one conies nigh it, acts so lonesome like and
queer 
42 DEATlI OP LITTLE AfAHALA ASHCRAPT
And the little Banty chickens kind o' cufters faint and
low,
Like the hand that now was feedin'`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
The medder`pears to miss her, and the pathway through
the grass,
~`hare 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 hands`11 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 0' tear-drops as my own. 
DEATH OF LJTTLE MAHALA ASHCRAFT i~~
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 deer at twi   light,
Andthe katydids and crickets hollers "Haly" all the
night. 
`44            THE CLOVER
THE CLOVER.
SOME sings of the lily, and daisy, and rose,
And the pansies and pinks that the summertime throws
In the green grassy lap of the niedder that lays
Blinkin' up at the skyes through the sunshiny days;
But what is the lily, and all of the rest
Of the flowers, to a man with a hart in his breast
That was dipped bnmmin' full of the honey and dew
Of the sweet clover-blossoms his babyhood knew?
I never set eyes on a clover-field now,
Er fool round a stable, er climb in the mow,
But my childhood comes back jest as clear and as plain
As the smell of the clover I'm sniffin' again
And I wunder away, in a bare-footed dream,
~Thare I tangle my toes in the blossoms that gleam
~Vith the dew of the dawn of the morning of love
Ere it wept o'e~. the graves that I'm weep in' above.
And so I love clover-it seems like a part
Of the sacerdest sorrows and joys of my hart;
And wharever it blossoms, oh, thare let me bow
And thank the good God as I'm thankin' Him now; 
THE CLOVER            145
And I pray to Him still fer the stren'th, when I die,
To go out in the clover and tell it good-bye,
And lovin'ly nestle my face in its bloom
~Vhile my soul slips away on a breth of perfume.
SPOT?I~WOOOg AND CO., NF.w.STREHr 5Q~A~~
L