 | Rhymes of our planet |  |
80
THE ANCIENT MINER'S STORY
Oh yes, I'm fixed as solid, sir, as most of folks you see;
At least the coyote Poverty has ceased to sniff at me;
That mine is worth a million down—that is, it is to-day:
What it might cost to-morrow, though, I couldn't exactly say.
At least the coyote Poverty has ceased to sniff at me;
That mine is worth a million down—that is, it is to-day:
What it might cost to-morrow, though, I couldn't exactly say.
A boy in old Connecticut—this dream I used to hold:
What if the cellar of our house should spring a leak with gold,
And I from there at any time a shining lamp could bring?—
I've got a cellar in this rock that's just that sort o' thing.
What if the cellar of our house should spring a leak with gold,
And I from there at any time a shining lamp could bring?—
I've got a cellar in this rock that's just that sort o' thing.
83
The sum my father slaved himself for twenty years to pay,
I've taken out of that there hole in less than half a day;
If I could lead him up you path, I'd make him smile, at least;
But his old labor-hardened hands are mouldering in the East.
I've taken out of that there hole in less than half a day;
If I could lead him up you path, I'd make him smile, at least;
But his old labor-hardened hands are mouldering in the East.
I'd pack my mother up this hill, and open to her view
Enough to give a benefit to all the poor she knew;
I'd pan a heap o' happiness out of her dear old face;
But mother's struck a lead of gold in quite a different place.
Enough to give a benefit to all the poor she knew;
I'd pan a heap o' happiness out of her dear old face;
But mother's struck a lead of gold in quite a different place.
My girl? Well, maybe this is soft; but since the question's put
(I wouldn't tell this to any one except “a tender-foot”)
We used to climb those Eastern hills (she was a charming witch),
And prospect on what we would do when I had “struck it rich.”
(I wouldn't tell this to any one except “a tender-foot”)
We used to climb those Eastern hills (she was a charming witch),
And prospect on what we would do when I had “struck it rich.”
84
But her old father hadn't the heart to let us marry poor,
And so I shook off Yankee dust and took a Western tour.
My trip it lasted several years. The old man grieved, no doubt.
I swore I never would come back till I could buy him out.
And so I shook off Yankee dust and took a Western tour.
My trip it lasted several years. The old man grieved, no doubt.
I swore I never would come back till I could buy him out.
You don't know what it is to hunt and dig from day to day,
To strike a vein that almost shows, then dodges clean away.
You do? Well, yes; but have you starved, and begged, and almost died,
With treasures that you couldn't find heaped up on every side?
To strike a vein that almost shows, then dodges clean away.
You do? Well, yes; but have you starved, and begged, and almost died,
With treasures that you couldn't find heaped up on every side?
And then her letters wandered, like; then tapered to an end;
I wondered on it for a while, then wrote a school-boy friend;
And just as I had struck this mine, and my old heart beat high,
There came a letter up the gulch—it was my friend's reply.
I wondered on it for a while, then wrote a school-boy friend;
And just as I had struck this mine, and my old heart beat high,
There came a letter up the gulch—it was my friend's reply.
87
“She's been a-wandering in her mind: the other afternoon
She went within the asylum walls, as crazy as a loon.”
[OMITTED]
A rush across the barren plains, a snailish railroad ride,
And I was in the asylum too, a-kneeling at her side.
She went within the asylum walls, as crazy as a loon.”
[OMITTED]
A rush across the barren plains, a snailish railroad ride,
And I was in the asylum too, a-kneeling at her side.
I thought she knew me, just at first; but soon she shrank away,
And never looked at me again, whatever I might say.
She wanders round, or crouches in a western window niche,
And says, “My love will come to me when he has ‘struck it rich.’”
And never looked at me again, whatever I might say.
She wanders round, or crouches in a western window niche,
And says, “My love will come to me when he has ‘struck it rich.’”
No word or look for me. Oh, but the Eastern hills were cold!
And something seemed to always say, “Go back and love your gold!”
And I came back; and in this hut my purpose is to stay—
A miser, with his treasure bright already stowed away.
And something seemed to always say, “Go back and love your gold!”
88
A miser, with his treasure bright already stowed away.
I'm President, Cashier, and Board of quite a wealthy bank,
With none except myself to please—and no one else to thank;
But nothing makes my heart beat fast—and I am growing old,
With not a thing to love or leave except this pile of gold.
With none except myself to please—and no one else to thank;
But nothing makes my heart beat fast—and I am growing old,
With not a thing to love or leave except this pile of gold.
But I have learned a thing or two: I know, as sure as fate,
When we lock up our lives for wealth, the gold key comes too late;
And that I'm poorer now than through those happy days in which
I owned a heart, and did not know that I had struck it rich!
When we lock up our lives for wealth, the gold key comes too late;
And that I'm poorer now than through those happy days in which
I owned a heart, and did not know that I had struck it rich!
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