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 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
601
THE NEIGHBORS.
Beside the deep, green river,
Here in the lower lands,
My house, low-roofed and humble,
In modest quiet stands.
A moss-grown, rude log cabin,
Close by a brawling rill;
A rood of ground around it—
I have no time to till.
Here in the lower lands,
My house, low-roofed and humble,
In modest quiet stands.
A moss-grown, rude log cabin,
Close by a brawling rill;
A rood of ground around it—
I have no time to till.
Across the deep, green river,
Whose waters flow so free,
A proud and stately mansion
Begirt with trees I see;
And through the leafy branches,
At day's departing rays,
Catching the crimson sunlight,
Its many windows blaze.
Whose waters flow so free,
A proud and stately mansion
Begirt with trees I see;
And through the leafy branches,
At day's departing rays,
Catching the crimson sunlight,
Its many windows blaze.
The owner of that palace
Boasts of his lineage high;
My father was a woodman,
A woodman, too, am I.
I earn by constant labor
My plain and scanty fare;
My neighbor over yonder
Is called a millionaire.
Boasts of his lineage high;
My father was a woodman,
A woodman, too, am I.
I earn by constant labor
My plain and scanty fare;
My neighbor over yonder
Is called a millionaire.
When toil at night is over,
Tired with the axe's stroke,
I sit here at the doorstep,
My corn-cob pipe to smoke,
I watch him slowly pacing
Before his house of pride,
Beneath the clustering vine-leaves
On yon veranda wide.
Tired with the axe's stroke,
I sit here at the doorstep,
My corn-cob pipe to smoke,
602
Before his house of pride,
Beneath the clustering vine-leaves
On yon veranda wide.
At times, this side the river,
He canters slowly by;
Absorbed in thought, he never
Upon me casts an eye.
He is not old, but wrinkles
His pallid features seam;
He looks as though existence
Were but a troubled dream.
He canters slowly by;
Absorbed in thought, he never
Upon me casts an eye.
He is not old, but wrinkles
His pallid features seam;
He looks as though existence
Were but a troubled dream.
If he, with gold and acres,
Could have my rugged health,
Or I, with happy slumbers,
Had only half his wealth,
Then life were better balanced
For both of us to-day,
And each, perhaps, more cheerly
Would travel on his way.
Could have my rugged health,
Or I, with happy slumbers,
Had only half his wealth,
Then life were better balanced
For both of us to-day,
And each, perhaps, more cheerly
Would travel on his way.
But, as it is, no envy
Within my breast can be:
With all his state and riches,
'Tis his to envy me.
Pale face and care-worn spirit,
Eyes sunken, shrunken limbs—
With these to burden riches.
What man would share with him?
Within my breast can be:
With all his state and riches,
'Tis his to envy me.
Pale face and care-worn spirit,
Eyes sunken, shrunken limbs—
With these to burden riches.
What man would share with him?
Deep green is yonder river,
Its waters faintly gleam:
For us in time fast coming
There is another stream.
We both will lose our burdens,
My toiling and his dross;
When over the mystic river
Our spirits freed shall cross.
Its waters faintly gleam:
603
There is another stream.
We both will lose our burdens,
My toiling and his dross;
When over the mystic river
Our spirits freed shall cross.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |