University of Virginia Library

A han'some night, with the trees snow-white,
And the time say ten or more,
Saw wife and me, with a well-fed glee,
Drive home from Jackson's store.
There was wife and I, and some things folks buy,
And our horses and our sleigh;
And the moon went along with its lantern strong,
And lit us as light as day.
We'd made roads good, drawin' logs and wood,
For thirty years ago;
And the wear and tear had sustained repair
From Road Commissioner Snow.
As we trotted along, our two-thread song
Wove in with the sleigh-bells' chimes;
Our laugh run free, and it seemed to me
We was havin' first-rate times.

I said “first-rate,” but I do not say 't
On a thoroughly thorough plan;
I had won my wife, in legitimate strife,
Away from her first young man.
'Twas a perfect rout, and a fair cut-out,
With nothing sneaky or wrong;
But I wondered so as to whether or no
She had brought her heart along!
A woman half-won is worse than none,
With another man keepin' part;
It's nothin' to gain her body and brain,
If she can't throw in her heart.
And I felt and thought that I sometimes caught
A chillness out o' her mind;
She was too much prone to thinkin' alone,
And rather too coldly kind.

But things seemed right this partic'lar night,
More so than with average folks;
And we filled the air with music to spare,
And complimentary jokes.
Till, as I reckoned, about a second
All happened to be still—
A cry like the yell of hounds from hell
Came over a neighboring hill.
It cut like a blade through the leafless shade;
It chilled us stiff with dread;
We looked loud cries in each other's eyes—
And—“Wolves!” was all we said.
The wolf! grim scamp and forest-tramp—
Why made, I never could see;
Beneath brute level—half dog, half devil—
The Indian-animal, he!
And this was a year with a winter more drear
Than any we'd ever known;
It was '43; and the wolves, you see,
Had a famine of their own.
That season, at least, of man and beast
They captured many a one;
And we knew, by the bite of their voice that night,
That they hadn't come out for fun.

My horses felt need of all their speed,
And every muscle strained;
But, with all they could do, I felt and knew
That the hungry devils gained.
'Twas but two miles more to our own house door,
Where shelter we would find,
When I saw the pack close on to our track,
Not a hundred yards behind.
Then I silent prayed: “O God! for aid—
Just a trifle—I request!
Just give us, You know, an even show,
And I'll undertake the rest.”
Then I says to my wife, “Now drive for life!
They're a-comin' over-nigh!
And I will stand, gun and axe in hand,
And be the first to die.”
As the ribbons she took, she gave me a look
Sweet memory makes long-lived:
I thought, “I'll allow she loves me now;
The rest of her heart has arrived.”
I felt I could fight the whole o' the night,
And never flinch or tire!
In danger, mind you, a woman behind you
Can turn your blood to fire.

When they reached the right spot, I left 'em a shot,
But it wasn't a steady aim—
'Twasn't really mine—and they tipped me a whine,
And came on all the same.
Their leader sped a little ahead,
Like a gray knife from its sheath;
With a resolute eye, and a hungry cry,
And an excellent set of teeth.
A moment I gazed—my axe I raised—
It hissed above my head—
Crunching low and dull, it split his skull,
And the villain fell back dead!
It checked them there, and a minute to spare
We had, and a second besides:
With rites unsaid they buried their dead
In the graves of their own lank hides.
They made for him a funeral grim—
Himself the unbaked meat;
And when they were through with their barbecue,
They started for more to eat!

With voices aflame, once more they came;
But faster still we sped,
And we and our traps dashed home perhaps
A half a minute ahead.
My wife I bore through the open door,
Then turned to the hearth clean swept,
Where a log-fire glowed in its brick abode—
By my mother faithfully kept;
From its depths raising two fagots blazing,
I leaped like lightning back;
I dashed the brands, with my blistering hands,
In the teeth of the howling pack.
“Come on!” I said, “with your fierce lips red,
Flecked white with poison foam!
Waltz to me now, and just notice how
A man fights for his home!”
They shrunk with fright from the feel and sight
O' this sudden volley of flame;
With a yell of dread, they sneaked and fled,
As fast as ever they came.

As I turned around, my wife I found
Not the eighth of an inch away:
She looked so true and tender, I knew
That her heart had come—to stay.
She nestled more nigh, with love-lit eye,
And passionate-quivering lip;
And I saw that the lout that I cut out
Had probably lost his grip.
Doubt moved away, for a permanent stay,
And never was heard of more!
My soul must own that it had not known
The soul of my wife before.
As I staunched the steam on my foaming team,
These thoughts hitched to my mind:
Below or above some woman's love,
How little in life we find!
A man'll go far to plant a star
Where fame's wide sky is thrown,
But a longer way, for some woman to say,
“I love you for my own.”
And oft as I've worked, this thought has lurked
'Round me, with substantial aid:
Of the best and worst men have done since first
This twofold world was made:
Of the farms they've cleared—of the buildin's reared—
The city splendors wrought—
Of the battle-field, where, loth to yield,
The right 'gainst the right has fought;
Of the measured strains of the lightning-trains,
The clack of the quick-spoke wire—
Of the factory's clash and the forge's flash,
An' the furnace's plumes of fire;
Be 't great or small—nine-tenths of all
Of every trade and art,
Be 't right or wrong—is merely a song
To win some woman's heart.