 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
BARBARA AND I.
The darling little Barbara! The best of friends were we,
Though she was little more than nine, I nearly twenty-three;
And 'twas a pleasant thing, whene'er we two would chance to meet,
To see her smile and nod her head, and blow me kisses sweet.
Though she was little more than nine, I nearly twenty-three;
And 'twas a pleasant thing, whene'er we two would chance to meet,
To see her smile and nod her head, and blow me kisses sweet.
And this was why: Where Maple Creek cuts through the Piny Ridge,
Some one (the stream grows narrow there) had felled a tree for bridge,
The pent-up torrent swiftly ran, and forty rods below
The cruel points of jagged rocks fretted to foam the flow.
Some one (the stream grows narrow there) had felled a tree for bridge,
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The cruel points of jagged rocks fretted to foam the flow.
Near that a famous fishing-place, and there, one day was I,
With rod in hand to seek for perch, when Barbara came by.
While on the bridge, she slipped and fell; I heard her sudden scream;
And plunging in, with desperate stroke, I bore her from the stream.
With rod in hand to seek for perch, when Barbara came by.
While on the bridge, she slipped and fell; I heard her sudden scream;
And plunging in, with desperate stroke, I bore her from the stream.
Man likes what he has saved at risk; not often in return
The one he rescues finds within a grateful feeling burn;
But she was better than her kind; and so it grew to be,
While I was fond of Barbara, she fonder was of me.
The one he rescues finds within a grateful feeling burn;
But she was better than her kind; and so it grew to be,
While I was fond of Barbara, she fonder was of me.
To search for wealth, I left my home to be away for years:
Friends, smiling, wished me luck, but she was bathed in childish tears.
“You're leaving little Barbara, who loves you,” faltered she.
“You'll soon forget; she never will, wherever you may be.”
Friends, smiling, wished me luck, but she was bathed in childish tears.
“You're leaving little Barbara, who loves you,” faltered she.
“You'll soon forget; she never will, wherever you may be.”
The child was right. I soon forgot; and, toiling year on year,
I formed new ties, while passed from mind whatever had been dear;
And as from every stream of gain good fortune on me rolled,
I thought no more of Barbara, but only lands and gold.
I formed new ties, while passed from mind whatever had been dear;
And as from every stream of gain good fortune on me rolled,
I thought no more of Barbara, but only lands and gold.
I fought for riches, and I won; then, tired of toil at last,
With avarice sated, I returned when ten long years had passed.
I sought old friends, and her as well; but when I met her there,
The little Barbara had gone, and left a woman fair.
With avarice sated, I returned when ten long years had passed.
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The little Barbara had gone, and left a woman fair.
Ten years had changed the winsome maid, a little child no more!
Little, indeed! a damosel who stood at five feet four,
A lovely girl, of cultured ways, as charming as could be,
Replaced the artless little one who had been fond of me.
Little, indeed! a damosel who stood at five feet four,
A lovely girl, of cultured ways, as charming as could be,
Replaced the artless little one who had been fond of me.
The ways and days of years before had died and made no stir:
While time had slowly walked with me, it swiftly fled with her;
But that whene'er we met she blushed and trembled, looking shy,
My uttermost philosophy could find no reason why.
While time had slowly walked with me, it swiftly fled with her;
But that whene'er we met she blushed and trembled, looking shy,
My uttermost philosophy could find no reason why.
I built a mansion on my farm (folk called it “Gimcrack Hall”),
And fourteen lackeys wages paid to let me board them all;
Then mingled with the crowd of men, went through a dreary round,
And when Miss Barbara I saw, bent with a bow profound.
And fourteen lackeys wages paid to let me board them all;
Then mingled with the crowd of men, went through a dreary round,
And when Miss Barbara I saw, bent with a bow profound.
At length a neighbor gave a “bee”—'tis fashionable “tone,”
The rich should ape the rural ways, if country-seats they own:
So, in a huge, capacious barn, of carven stone at that,
Upon the waxed and polished floor the well-dressed huskers sat.
The rich should ape the rural ways, if country-seats they own:
So, in a huge, capacious barn, of carven stone at that,
Upon the waxed and polished floor the well-dressed huskers sat.
The gaping rustics ne'er had seen such bee as that before—
The ladies all on tabourets, the others on the floor;
But first they straws for partners drew, and so it was, you see,
I sat in front of Barbara, who took the ears from me.
The ladies all on tabourets, the others on the floor;
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I sat in front of Barbara, who took the ears from me.
What din and chatter filled the barn! We steady worked and still,
Till, all by chance, our fingers touched; then through me passed a thrill;
My eyes met hers; her eyelids drooped; the place seemed filled with light;
But when a red ear came to view I dared not claim my right.
Till, all by chance, our fingers touched; then through me passed a thrill;
My eyes met hers; her eyelids drooped; the place seemed filled with light;
But when a red ear came to view I dared not claim my right.
But why go on? The story's told, 'Twas at that husking-bee
Was born my love for Barbara; not there her love for me;
For when I won confession fond she murmured soft and low:
“The Barbara who loves you, loved you years and years ago.”
Was born my love for Barbara; not there her love for me;
For when I won confession fond she murmured soft and low:
“The Barbara who loves you, loved you years and years ago.”
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |