 | Songs of two centuries |  |
13
Songs of Months and Days.
15
THE OLD CHRISTMAS DINNER.
One ol'-fashioned Chris'mas dinner's wuth a dozen nowadays,
That delivered by instalments, in the sleek new-fangled ways.
Take me back, O almanac! to the time when sev'ral “courses”
Come together in a bunch, an' united all their forces!
'Twas a time when, j'ined together, old an' young an' saint an' sinner
Could be found all gathered round one ol'-fashioned Chris'mas dinner!
[Thus said Ahab Adams, merchant, from a stress of thought to free him,
To his brother Shubal Adams, who had come from Maine to see him.]
That delivered by instalments, in the sleek new-fangled ways.
Take me back, O almanac! to the time when sev'ral “courses”
Come together in a bunch, an' united all their forces!
'Twas a time when, j'ined together, old an' young an' saint an' sinner
Could be found all gathered round one ol'-fashioned Chris'mas dinner!
[Thus said Ahab Adams, merchant, from a stress of thought to free him,
To his brother Shubal Adams, who had come from Maine to see him.]
Oft I think that dinner over—how once more I'd like to try it!
But, you see, it can't be managed: all my money wouldn't buy it.
Can't fetch back the old-time frame-work; can't arrange the proper meetin':
Most of all the folks I'd ask there, long ago has quit their eatin'.
But, you see, it can't be managed: all my money wouldn't buy it.
Can't fetch back the old-time frame-work; can't arrange the proper meetin':
Most of all the folks I'd ask there, long ago has quit their eatin'.
First I'd want a slice o' winter that would fetch out what was in you:
Air a haft o' glitterin' blades sharp as if they meant to skin you;
Froze-up cloud-boats near the hills, tryin' hard to make a landin',
Trees with snow-white blankets on, sleepin', like the hosses, standin';
Fences peakin' through the drifts, clear plate-glass across the river—
All the chimneys breathin' steam crawlin' upward with a shiver;
Sun a yellow chunk of ice—failed to furnish any heatin',
An' remains for nothin', 'cept to be present at the meetin';
Critters in the barn sharp-set as they was before you fed 'em;
Snow an' frost unusual sassy—yell out ev'ry time you tread 'em.
That would be a val'ble mornin', wuth the trouble of appr'isin'!
Glad that Chris'mas happened 'round, on a day so appetizin'!
Air a haft o' glitterin' blades sharp as if they meant to skin you;
Froze-up cloud-boats near the hills, tryin' hard to make a landin',
Trees with snow-white blankets on, sleepin', like the hosses, standin';
Fences peakin' through the drifts, clear plate-glass across the river—
All the chimneys breathin' steam crawlin' upward with a shiver;
Sun a yellow chunk of ice—failed to furnish any heatin',
An' remains for nothin', 'cept to be present at the meetin';
Critters in the barn sharp-set as they was before you fed 'em;
Snow an' frost unusual sassy—yell out ev'ry time you tread 'em.
That would be a val'ble mornin', wuth the trouble of appr'isin'!
Glad that Chris'mas happened 'round, on a day so appetizin'!
Then I'd want our Dad on deck—up-an'-down as last year's cider—
Made us toe the mark, you know—but a fust-class good provider:
When he slung his banner out—“Come an' hev a Chris'mas dinner”,
Ev'ry one that got the word knowed his stomach was a winner.
How they hus'led through the snow!—horses kep' their bells a-ringin',
Runners creakin' like a sign—gals a-cacklin' an' a-singin';
Ol' folks wrapped up double-bulk—baby-bundles half a dozen—
Dogs that wouldn't have thanked the dogs of the king to call 'em cousin!
So I'd hev 'em come an' come, ere the morning hour was through with;
Come in wagon-loads on runners—more than we knowed what to do with!
Made us toe the mark, you know—but a fust-class good provider:
When he slung his banner out—“Come an' hev a Chris'mas dinner”,
Ev'ry one that got the word knowed his stomach was a winner.
How they hus'led through the snow!—horses kep' their bells a-ringin',
Runners creakin' like a sign—gals a-cacklin' an' a-singin';
16
Dogs that wouldn't have thanked the dogs of the king to call 'em cousin!
So I'd hev 'em come an' come, ere the morning hour was through with;
Come in wagon-loads on runners—more than we knowed what to do with!
Mother—wouldn't I hev her there?—would I—well, somehow or other,
I hain't learned so I kin speak stiddy yet, concernin' Mother.
I see times that I would give half my days of growin' older,
For a half an hour of her, with her gray head on my shoulder.
[Thus said Ahab Adams, merchant, proud of his success, with reason,
And his good financial prospects growing brighter every season.]
When the folks was all set down, then, a proper need confessin',
I would hev Gran'father Jones ask a good ol'-fashioned blessin'.
Not a short, impatient one, such as often I hear muttered,
But a long one, that improved appetites while bein' uttered.
I would hev the vict'als there, on the start, as fur as able,
An' wouldn't dare to waste a prayer on a bare and empty table.
“Now, take hold an' help yourselves!” father'd say, with kind inflections;
An' the crowd that set around wouldn't need no more directions.
I hain't learned so I kin speak stiddy yet, concernin' Mother.
I see times that I would give half my days of growin' older,
For a half an hour of her, with her gray head on my shoulder.
[Thus said Ahab Adams, merchant, proud of his success, with reason,
And his good financial prospects growing brighter every season.]
When the folks was all set down, then, a proper need confessin',
I would hev Gran'father Jones ask a good ol'-fashioned blessin'.
Not a short, impatient one, such as often I hear muttered,
But a long one, that improved appetites while bein' uttered.
I would hev the vict'als there, on the start, as fur as able,
An' wouldn't dare to waste a prayer on a bare and empty table.
“Now, take hold an' help yourselves!” father'd say, with kind inflections;
An' the crowd that set around wouldn't need no more directions.
Though they all had journeyed far, ere the clock said half a minute,
Uncle Tom would make first base 'fore the others could begin it.
Uncle Jake could eat the most, through his ways discreet and subtle;
Aunt Melinda's knife would fly, swifter than a weaver's shuttle.
Cousin Ruth would pick her plate, every bit of food espyin';
Neighbor Spoon would very soon hev a wishbone up a-dryin'.
Cider-apple-sauce too strong would make Deacon Wilson hazy;
Cousin Sammy'd eat mince pie till he drove his mother crazy.
Forty others, more or less, caperin' round in Chris'mas clover,
Makin' friendships still more strong—healin' former fusses over;
Knives a-flashin', plates a-crashin', pewter spoons an' forks a-jinglin';
Ev'rything by chance contrived for to set your blood a-tinglin';
All as cozy as cud be, in a happiness bewild'rin';
Oh, if Christ could come in there, He'd hev said, “Keep at it, children!”
Uncle Tom would make first base 'fore the others could begin it.
Uncle Jake could eat the most, through his ways discreet and subtle;
Aunt Melinda's knife would fly, swifter than a weaver's shuttle.
Cousin Ruth would pick her plate, every bit of food espyin';
Neighbor Spoon would very soon hev a wishbone up a-dryin'.
Cider-apple-sauce too strong would make Deacon Wilson hazy;
Cousin Sammy'd eat mince pie till he drove his mother crazy.
Forty others, more or less, caperin' round in Chris'mas clover,
Makin' friendships still more strong—healin' former fusses over;
Knives a-flashin', plates a-crashin', pewter spoons an' forks a-jinglin';
Ev'rything by chance contrived for to set your blood a-tinglin';
All as cozy as cud be, in a happiness bewild'rin';
Oh, if Christ could come in there, He'd hev said, “Keep at it, children!”
[Thus said merchant Ahab Adams, with rich presents to him clinging,
While in Christmas peals and chimes, all the city-bells were singing;
And he sank in thoughtful reverie—tried with all his might to guess
Why his joy was so much greater when his wealth was so much less;
How new splendors and rich banquets could not satisfy the inner
Soul and body, like the dear sweet old-fashioned Christmas dinner!]
While in Christmas peals and chimes, all the city-bells were singing;
And he sank in thoughtful reverie—tried with all his might to guess
Why his joy was so much greater when his wealth was so much less;
How new splendors and rich banquets could not satisfy the inner
Soul and body, like the dear sweet old-fashioned Christmas dinner!]
17
THE QUEEN OF THE DAYS.
Now all of the days one day were met
With sober and anxious mien,
To choose which one they owed the debt
Of crowning it king or queen.
With sober and anxious mien,
To choose which one they owed the debt
Of crowning it king or queen.
Then New Year shouted, “I always led
The column, and always will;
Give me the crown for my gallant head!”
But all of the days were still.
The column, and always will;
Give me the crown for my gallant head!”
But all of the days were still.
Then Easter spoke—the beautiful child—
And told her gentle will;
They tenderly looked at her and smiled,
But all of them yet were still.
And told her gentle will;
They tenderly looked at her and smiled,
But all of them yet were still.
Victoria's natal day was there,
Hedged round with martial skill,
And a glorious reign without compare;
But all of the days were still.
Hedged round with martial skill,
And a glorious reign without compare;
But all of the days were still.
July had come with its ordnance-tone
The world of the West to thrill;
And far was the birth of a nation known!
But all of the days were still.
The world of the West to thrill;
And far was the birth of a nation known!
But all of the days were still.
Thanksgiving lifted her thanks on high,
And winsomely ate her fill;
The days looked up to the distant sky,
But all of them yet were still.
And winsomely ate her fill;
The days looked up to the distant sky,
But all of them yet were still.
Now Christmas came, divinely fair,
Her eyes as a star-beam bright;
The gold of the sun was in her hair—
Her form was a ray of light.
Her eyes as a star-beam bright;
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Her form was a ray of light.
She held in the world's delighted gaze
Good gifts for living and dead;
She smiled at all of her sister-days,
But never a word she said.
Good gifts for living and dead;
She smiled at all of her sister-days,
But never a word she said.
All knew that the friendly strife was done,
And never a word said they;
But knelt and crowned the beautiful one,
As Queen for ever and aye.
And never a word said they;
But knelt and crowned the beautiful one,
As Queen for ever and aye.
19
WASHINGTON-MONTH.
February—February—How your moods and actions vary,
Or to seek or shun.
Now a smile of sunlight lifting,
Now in chilly snowflakes drifting;
Now with icy shuttles creeping,
Silver webs are spun.
Now with laden torrents leaping,
Oceanward you run,
Now with bells you blithely sing,
'Neath the stars or sun;
Now a blade of murder bring
To the suff'ring one;
February—you are very
Dear, when all is done:
Many blessings rest above you;
You one day (and so we love you)
Gave us Washington.
20
WHAT SHALL WE GIVE?
What shall we give on a Christmas day?—
Money?—they say it is sordid and old,
And hearts that are seeking the upward way,
Are crushed to earth by the weight of gold.
And still does the bank-note's whisper bring
The palace of pleasure yet more near;
And fair-faced coin, as together they ring,
Are silver and golden bells of cheer.
So let not sentiment war with thrift;
But mingle them both, in a Christmas gift.
Money?—they say it is sordid and old,
And hearts that are seeking the upward way,
Are crushed to earth by the weight of gold.
And still does the bank-note's whisper bring
The palace of pleasure yet more near;
And fair-faced coin, as together they ring,
Are silver and golden bells of cheer.
So let not sentiment war with thrift;
But mingle them both, in a Christmas gift.
Give me a cluster of precious gems!
Stars of the earth, that were born to rise
Into affection's diadems—
Into the lover's changeful skies.—
Though all the jewels of rock and tide
Should weave together in one strong ray,
'Twere nought but a burst of glow, beside
The deathless glory of Christmas day!
Yet costly love is the earth-cloud's rift;
And gems are a goodly Christmas gift.
Stars of the earth, that were born to rise
Into affection's diadems—
Into the lover's changeful skies.—
Though all the jewels of rock and tide
Should weave together in one strong ray,
'Twere nought but a burst of glow, beside
The deathless glory of Christmas day!
Yet costly love is the earth-cloud's rift;
And gems are a goodly Christmas gift.
I see the broideries' colors flow
Through palace-parlors and humble rooms:
Flit delicate fingers to and fro—
The ivory shuttles of living looms.
Toil on at your queenly task, O queens!
And wield your sceptres of form and hue;
The dainty fittings you give life's scenes,
Will last eternity's drama through.
Earth's clouded curtains will fade and shift;
But loving toil is a deathless gift.
Through palace-parlors and humble rooms:
Flit delicate fingers to and fro—
The ivory shuttles of living looms.
Toil on at your queenly task, O queens!
And wield your sceptres of form and hue;
21
Will last eternity's drama through.
Earth's clouded curtains will fade and shift;
But loving toil is a deathless gift.
What shall we give on a Christmas day?—
Whatever a heart to a heart can spare;
Whate'er through the dark can throw a ray—
Whate'er can fetter the hands of care.—
Not all the riches of earth and sea
Could build their statues one soul above;
And presents, if rightly weighed, must be
Hung first on the golden scales of love.
While ever to Heaven our thanks uplift:
For God invented the Christmas gift.
Whatever a heart to a heart can spare;
Whate'er through the dark can throw a ray—
Whate'er can fetter the hands of care.—
Not all the riches of earth and sea
Could build their statues one soul above;
And presents, if rightly weighed, must be
Hung first on the golden scales of love.
While ever to Heaven our thanks uplift:
For God invented the Christmas gift.
22
FARMER STEBBINS AS SANTA CLAUS.
We went to Northtown visiting, my good old wife an' me,
An' thought that we would bathe ourselves in Chris'mas joy an' glee;
For Sarah Ann, a buxom dame, an' daughter, too, of mine,
Resides there with her older-half an' children eight or nine.
An' so we gathered gifts enough to make 'em all content,
An' took the train an' landed there the very day we went.
An' thought that we would bathe ourselves in Chris'mas joy an' glee;
For Sarah Ann, a buxom dame, an' daughter, too, of mine,
Resides there with her older-half an' children eight or nine.
An' so we gathered gifts enough to make 'em all content,
An' took the train an' landed there the very day we went.
The children warmly greeted us an' crowded round my chair,
With four a-perchin' on my knees, an' young 'uns still to spare;
An' asked about my spectacles, an' how I growed my wig,
An' if my papa bought my teeth before I got so big;
An' how my whiskers come to bleach; an' other questions prone
To make a mortal realize that younger days have flown;
With four a-perchin' on my knees, an' young 'uns still to spare;
An' asked about my spectacles, an' how I growed my wig,
An' if my papa bought my teeth before I got so big;
An' how my whiskers come to bleach; an' other questions prone
To make a mortal realize that younger days have flown;
An' if I ever looked it up how far I was around,
An' when I run if it would shake the whole adjacent ground;
An' if the your-correct-weight box didn't think I was a lot,
An' if I wouldn't have to put two pennies in the slot;
With other questions well designed to give a hint to me
That I was not a first-class sylph, so far as they could see.
An' when I run if it would shake the whole adjacent ground;
An' if the your-correct-weight box didn't think I was a lot,
An' if I wouldn't have to put two pennies in the slot;
With other questions well designed to give a hint to me
That I was not a first-class sylph, so far as they could see.
An' when I told 'em fairy-tales, they wouldn't believe a word,
An' said the Sin'bad sailor things could never have occurred;
An' all the pleasant little lies that used to cheer my youth
They set upon without delay as destitute of truth.
An' when of Christmas mysteries in solemn tones I spake,
They laughed an' said that Santa Claus was all “a bloomin' fake.”
An' said the Sin'bad sailor things could never have occurred;
An' all the pleasant little lies that used to cheer my youth
They set upon without delay as destitute of truth.
An' when of Christmas mysteries in solemn tones I spake,
They laughed an' said that Santa Claus was all “a bloomin' fake.”
So Christmas eve I slyly told my daughter Sarah Ann:
“I'll show the tots a little sight to laugh at if they can.
You rake the fireplace clear o' fire, not tellin' them the cause,
An' I'll come down the chimney-way dressed-up as Santa Claus.
It isn't very fur to climb—the weather's pretty mild,
An' I would do three times as much to interest a child.”
“I'll show the tots a little sight to laugh at if they can.
You rake the fireplace clear o' fire, not tellin' them the cause,
An' I'll come down the chimney-way dressed-up as Santa Claus.
It isn't very fur to climb—the weather's pretty mild,
An' I would do three times as much to interest a child.”
23
I went an' clad in hairy garb, with whiskers long an' white,
An' other things to paralyze the inexperienced sight,
An' had some sleigh-bells bright an' new a hangin' on my arms,
An' pockets full o' Christmas things to add unto my charms;
An' with the strongest ladder-rope that I could find in town,
I entered in the chimney-top an' clambered slowly down.
An' other things to paralyze the inexperienced sight,
An' had some sleigh-bells bright an' new a hangin' on my arms,
An' pockets full o' Christmas things to add unto my charms;
An' with the strongest ladder-rope that I could find in town,
I entered in the chimney-top an' clambered slowly down.
My goodness sakes! Whoever heard of such untimely luck?
The chimney narrowed all at once, an' suddenly I stuck!
An' hung there like a roastin' hen a-waitin' to be brown,
For spite of all my effortin' I couldn't get up or down.
An' then the chil'ren heard the noise and run distressin' fleet,
An' looked and yelled: “It's Gran'pa Steb: we know him by his feet!”
The chimney narrowed all at once, an' suddenly I stuck!
An' hung there like a roastin' hen a-waitin' to be brown,
For spite of all my effortin' I couldn't get up or down.
An' then the chil'ren heard the noise and run distressin' fleet,
An' looked and yelled: “It's Gran'pa Steb: we know him by his feet!”
An' then their mother had to tell what I had tried to do,
Whereat their little fancies sprung the subject to pursue:
They asked me if I'd traveled far, if chimneys injured coats,
An' where my span of reindeers was, an' if they'd like some oats;
An' told me, with a childish greed for Christmas-gathered pelf,
If I would throw the presents down, I needn't come myself;
Whereat their little fancies sprung the subject to pursue:
They asked me if I'd traveled far, if chimneys injured coats,
An' where my span of reindeers was, an' if they'd like some oats;
An' told me, with a childish greed for Christmas-gathered pelf,
If I would throw the presents down, I needn't come myself;
An' there I hung for quite a while, with fury in my heart,
Until they brought a mason in, who took the bricks apart;
An' though they made the children stop an' sent 'em off to bed,
I knowed what they was thinkin' of, an' what they prob'ly said.
An' when the mornin' light appeared, an' breakfast-time occurred,
They sat around the table there forbid to say a word;
Until they brought a mason in, who took the bricks apart;
An' though they made the children stop an' sent 'em off to bed,
I knowed what they was thinkin' of, an' what they prob'ly said.
An' when the mornin' light appeared, an' breakfast-time occurred,
They sat around the table there forbid to say a word;
A-sufferin' so to laugh at me, afraid that I'd be gruff,
An' longin' for their presents, too—I knowed it well enough.
An' then a tear come in my eye, an' like a fond old dunce
I went an' dug the presents out an' give 'em all to once.
An' then I says, “If Santa Claus is what you call ‘a fake’,
These pretty things he brought fur you is real an' no mistake.”
An' longin' for their presents, too—I knowed it well enough.
An' then a tear come in my eye, an' like a fond old dunce
I went an' dug the presents out an' give 'em all to once.
An' then I says, “If Santa Claus is what you call ‘a fake’,
These pretty things he brought fur you is real an' no mistake.”
An' then they up an' danced around an' kissed me, one by one,
An' hugged me harder than the blamed old chimney just had done,
An' with a thousand looks of love incumbered me with thanks,
An' made me like 'em more an' more in spite of all their pranks;
An' one, the prettiest of the whole, who always took my part,
She smiles an' says: “It's Gran'pa Steb: we know him by his heart!”
An' hugged me harder than the blamed old chimney just had done,
An' with a thousand looks of love incumbered me with thanks,
An' made me like 'em more an' more in spite of all their pranks;
An' one, the prettiest of the whole, who always took my part,
She smiles an' says: “It's Gran'pa Steb: we know him by his heart!”
24
EXCEPTIN' TOM.
'Twas on a cloudy winter day,
An' snow was gently fallin',
When Tom an' I upon the sleigh
A heavy load was haulin';
We was committee—him an' me—
To find the annual Christmas-tree
(With thanks for all our toil an' search),
To deck the Presbyterian church.
An' snow was gently fallin',
When Tom an' I upon the sleigh
A heavy load was haulin';
We was committee—him an' me—
To find the annual Christmas-tree
(With thanks for all our toil an' search),
To deck the Presbyterian church.
It wasn't any little shrub
With which we two was dealin'—
We knowed the top would almos' rub
The meetin'-house's ceilin';
Two yoke of oxen drawed in line,
An' one was Tom's an' one was mine;
An' trudgin' 'long, we fell, we two,
A-gossipin' like women do.
With which we two was dealin'—
We knowed the top would almos' rub
The meetin'-house's ceilin';
Two yoke of oxen drawed in line,
An' one was Tom's an' one was mine;
An' trudgin' 'long, we fell, we two,
A-gossipin' like women do.
We done our own longcomin's brown,
An' other people's knavery;
We talked of all the girls in town,
Not countin' Gretchen Avery.
We wasn't on speakin' terms that day
Regardin' her, as one might say;
She had two would-be beaux, you see,
An' one was Tom an' one was me.
An' other people's knavery;
We talked of all the girls in town,
Not countin' Gretchen Avery.
We wasn't on speakin' terms that day
Regardin' her, as one might say;
She had two would-be beaux, you see,
An' one was Tom an' one was me.
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But Tom he acted over-bright
For one with even chances;
An' hinted of the past delight
Of parin'-bees an' dances;
And how some one a gift would get
To drive 'em farther into debt;
An' other little hints, in jerks,
That started up my thinkin'-works.
For one with even chances;
An' hinted of the past delight
Of parin'-bees an' dances;
And how some one a gift would get
To drive 'em farther into debt;
An' other little hints, in jerks,
That started up my thinkin'-works.
The tree was taller still that night,
As if't had been a-growin',
With presents on it fair an' bright
An' candles near 'em glowin',
And all the folks for miles aroun'
Had brought their presents into town:
The tree bore all things, sweet an' sour,
From candy-sticks to bags of flour.
As if't had been a-growin',
With presents on it fair an' bright
An' candles near 'em glowin',
And all the folks for miles aroun'
Had brought their presents into town:
The tree bore all things, sweet an' sour,
From candy-sticks to bags of flour.
An' Tom an' I each other sought,
Bein' fellow-men in slavery;
But he, the sly, a gift had brought,
To hang for Gretchen Avery.
'Twas somethin' in the jewel line—
I watched him peek, and saw it shine;
He gave a switchin' look at me
An' went an' put it on the tree.
Bein' fellow-men in slavery;
But he, the sly, a gift had brought,
To hang for Gretchen Avery.
'Twas somethin' in the jewel line—
I watched him peek, and saw it shine;
He gave a switchin' look at me
An' went an' put it on the tree.
An' then I says: “I won't be beat
In cunnin' or in bravery!”
An' so I went an' sought a seat
Adjoinin' Gretchen Avery.
An' she was rather kind, for her—
More like a sister, as it were;
An' fluttered some'at from her perch,
There in the Presbyterian church.
In cunnin' or in bravery!”
An' so I went an' sought a seat
Adjoinin' Gretchen Avery.
An' she was rather kind, for her—
More like a sister, as it were;
An' fluttered some'at from her perch,
There in the Presbyterian church.
She asked me all about the tree,
An' where I found it growin';
An' whispered, thanks was due to me,
For such a boon bestowin';
But I was minded to be fair,
An' spoke her honest, then an' there:
“Tom is the man for you to see:
He worked four times as hard as me.”
An' where I found it growin';
An' whispered, thanks was due to me,
For such a boon bestowin';
26
An' spoke her honest, then an' there:
“Tom is the man for you to see:
He worked four times as hard as me.”
An' then she glanced at Thomas, near,
An' smiled unduly pleasant;
An' then I spoke up: “Say, see here:
Suppose one gets a present
On yonder tree, as well they may—
Then shouldn't they take it, anyway?”
An' quick at me the words she thrust:
“How can you ask? Of course they must!”
An' smiled unduly pleasant;
An' then I spoke up: “Say, see here:
Suppose one gets a present
On yonder tree, as well they may—
Then shouldn't they take it, anyway?”
An' quick at me the words she thrust:
“How can you ask? Of course they must!”
So when they all marched round, you see,
Their gifts to be a-fetchin',
I gave a jump into the tree,
Right there in front of Gretchen:
An' words was nowhere near my tongue,
But on my arm a motto hung:
“This is a present, all can see,
To Gretchen Avery—made by me.”
Their gifts to be a-fetchin',
I gave a jump into the tree,
Right there in front of Gretchen:
An' words was nowhere near my tongue,
But on my arm a motto hung:
“This is a present, all can see,
To Gretchen Avery—made by me.”
Now wasn't she a han'some show,
To all the people gazin'?
An' now she looked like drifted snow,
An' then like sunsets blazin';
Then like a queen she stood up there,
An' never flinched or flecked a hair;
But sweetly said to Elder Brown:
“Please kindly hand my present down?”
To all the people gazin'?
An' now she looked like drifted snow,
An' then like sunsets blazin';
Then like a queen she stood up there,
An' never flinched or flecked a hair;
But sweetly said to Elder Brown:
“Please kindly hand my present down?”
An' goin' home, she says to me,
In tones that still is haunted:
“I think tonight that all I see
Got just the gift they wanted.”
And I didn't say much in our walk,
Not bein' strong upon the talk;
But couldn't sift my feelings from
The pityin' words: “Exceptin' Tom!”
In tones that still is haunted:
“I think tonight that all I see
Got just the gift they wanted.”
And I didn't say much in our walk,
Not bein' strong upon the talk;
But couldn't sift my feelings from
The pityin' words: “Exceptin' Tom!”
27
ARBUTUS.
Under the snow, under the snow,
The leaves of the trailing arbutus grow;
Toiling the earth that loves them nigh,
But hoping to some day see the sky.
The leaves of the trailing arbutus grow;
Toiling the earth that loves them nigh,
But hoping to some day see the sky.
Under the snow, under the snow,
The flowers of the trailing arbutus glow;
E'en in the dark their duty done,
But hoping to some day kiss the sun.
The flowers of the trailing arbutus glow;
E'en in the dark their duty done,
But hoping to some day kiss the sun.
28
THE ECLIPSE.
The total eclipse of the sun which occurred May 28,
1900, was one of the grandest spectacles ever presented in our stupendous panorama
of the sky. No town within the belt of its influence, but turned out a
good share of its population to watch the grand event. Industry throughout
our country was for those few impressive minutes almost at a standstill, and
the whole population became astronomers. It is singular that a thousand other
grand phenomena—constantly taking place in the heavens, and foretold as surely
as was this—are viewed by the great multitude of people, with entire indifference
—or not noticed at all.
A story which I still roll as a very pleasant morsel under my tongue, is that
of a fine old gentleman in Pennsylvania who had read, sixty years before, that
the eclipse was to take place at a certain hour and minute. For the whole sixty
years the question remained in his mind, as to whether the event would really
take place as predicted by the votaries of science. Would the earth and sun
both be exactly on time? Would not something happen, as so often with man's
goings and comings, to prevent the accomplishment? Might not “the best laid
plans” of the universe “gang a-gley”? Oh, if he could only live till the moment
at which the eclipse was predicted!
He did. He journeyed into the belt of totality, and stood with watch in
hand, on a bright, sunstrewn day, wondering if the prediction would come true.
It did: and he went home one of the happiest men on the earth.
The total eclipse of the sun which occurred May 28, 1900, was one of the grandest spectacles ever presented in our stupendous panorama of the sky. No town within the belt of its influence, but turned out a good share of its population to watch the grand event. Industry throughout our country was for those few impressive minutes almost at a standstill, and the whole population became astronomers. It is singular that a thousand other grand phenomena—constantly taking place in the heavens, and foretold as surely as was this—are viewed by the great multitude of people, with entire indifference —or not noticed at all.
A story which I still roll as a very pleasant morsel under my tongue, is that of a fine old gentleman in Pennsylvania who had read, sixty years before, that the eclipse was to take place at a certain hour and minute. For the whole sixty years the question remained in his mind, as to whether the event would really take place as predicted by the votaries of science. Would the earth and sun both be exactly on time? Would not something happen, as so often with man's goings and comings, to prevent the accomplishment? Might not “the best laid plans” of the universe “gang a-gley”? Oh, if he could only live till the moment at which the eclipse was predicted!
He did. He journeyed into the belt of totality, and stood with watch in hand, on a bright, sunstrewn day, wondering if the prediction would come true.
It did: and he went home one of the happiest men on the earth.
May 28, 1900.
A gleaming sun, well hoisted up the sky.
Round as when Ossian sang his feeble praise,
Bright as when Joshua gave it word to halt;
Waiting to be o'ershadowed by the moon—
Meek planetette—dog of the humble earth.
Waiting?—no: we were waiting: what to him
If for an hour some few rays were flung back
From the chilled world? 'Twas not Earth's ruling star,
But we—that waited: we who long decades
Had watched for him to vanish in mid-day,
That we might scan the comrades that he kept,
And trace rare secrets, darkened by his light.
'Twas we that waited—once again to know
If figures, called from long and wakeful nights,
That had for generations an event
For this great hour forewarned—told truths or lied.
Round as when Ossian sang his feeble praise,
Bright as when Joshua gave it word to halt;
Waiting to be o'ershadowed by the moon—
Meek planetette—dog of the humble earth.
Waiting?—no: we were waiting: what to him
If for an hour some few rays were flung back
From the chilled world? 'Twas not Earth's ruling star,
But we—that waited: we who long decades
Had watched for him to vanish in mid-day,
That we might scan the comrades that he kept,
And trace rare secrets, darkened by his light.
'Twas we that waited—once again to know
If figures, called from long and wakeful nights,
That had for generations an event
For this great hour forewarned—told truths or lied.
The grass-lawn stretched to greet a southern sky,
By verdant trees eclipsed; the scolding birds
Threw agile shadows on the tossing grain;
A cloud, far in the deep mysterious west,
Darkened another cloud; the constant stars
Were covered by the flaming light of morn;
The city, half a hundred miles away,
That glared at us last eve through all that space,
With home-made lightnings—distance now obscured.
By verdant trees eclipsed; the scolding birds
Threw agile shadows on the tossing grain;
A cloud, far in the deep mysterious west,
Darkened another cloud; the constant stars
Were covered by the flaming light of morn;
The city, half a hundred miles away,
That glared at us last eve through all that space,
With home-made lightnings—distance now obscured.
The great sun went about his daily task,
As ever in the death-darked centuries
That shrink in History's coffin. Not far off
He smiled at grave-stones—each a marble groan—
Voicing the sad and helpless grief of man,
That life must ever be eclipsed by death.
He seemed to smile that Earth, which night on night
Throws its own self in shadow—now should prate
At shadow of the moon.
As ever in the death-darked centuries
That shrink in History's coffin. Not far off
He smiled at grave-stones—each a marble groan—
Voicing the sad and helpless grief of man,
29
He seemed to smile that Earth, which night on night
Throws its own self in shadow—now should prate
At shadow of the moon.
Oh, not alone
We stood upon the breezy verdant hill,
And hailed the high event: a million eyes—
Ten million eyes—made journey with our own
Unto the burning globe: from hill and plain—
From field and palace—souls were traveling
To yonder soul of planets.
We stood upon the breezy verdant hill,
And hailed the high event: a million eyes—
Ten million eyes—made journey with our own
Unto the burning globe: from hill and plain—
From field and palace—souls were traveling
To yonder soul of planets.
Lofty minds
That hunger always for the infinite,
Had a most godly feast; ignoble eyes
Looked at the sky for once; life's vaudeville
Viewed a rare act—a solemn pantomime
Billed for a century; superstition crouched
In haunts of mingled terror and delight,
Half doubting and half fearing.
That hunger always for the infinite,
Had a most godly feast; ignoble eyes
Looked at the sky for once; life's vaudeville
Viewed a rare act—a solemn pantomime
Billed for a century; superstition crouched
In haunts of mingled terror and delight,
Half doubting and half fearing.
Ah! just now
A tiny gold-clad sentry of Time's camp
With slender finger points the magic hour
That generations could not wait to see:
The breathless instant is not far away.
A tiny gold-clad sentry of Time's camp
With slender finger points the magic hour
That generations could not wait to see:
The breathless instant is not far away.
'Tis here! It fastens to the sun's sharp edge
And leads its many black-draped followers on:
The dragon that Columbus one dread day
Discovered while the savages knelt low
And made of him a god, is here again;
And slowly creeps the shadow.
And leads its many black-draped followers on:
The dragon that Columbus one dread day
Discovered while the savages knelt low
And made of him a god, is here again;
And slowly creeps the shadow.
Down, and down,
It delves, into the gold-mine of the sky.
Our sun is but a fragment of a sphere;
And now a crescent; 'tis a new new-moon
Brighter than any that we e'er have seen,
Greets our right shoulder!—Now—there is no sun—
No moon.
It delves, into the gold-mine of the sky.
Our sun is but a fragment of a sphere;
And now a crescent; 'tis a new new-moon
Brighter than any that we e'er have seen,
30
No moon.
The green-tipped pines upon the lawn
Have gathered dusk, and sung a twilight song;
The birds fly home and nestle 'mid their leaves;
Through this new night the cattle now begin
Their stated pilgrimage from field to fold;
Brave steeds fling out their nostrils in affright;
And e'en the stars seem puzzled; for, just now,
The coy and wayward Mercury peeps down,
Now first for many years by day unveiled;
And comes a gleam from old Orion's belt.
Have gathered dusk, and sung a twilight song;
The birds fly home and nestle 'mid their leaves;
Through this new night the cattle now begin
Their stated pilgrimage from field to fold;
Brave steeds fling out their nostrils in affright;
And e'en the stars seem puzzled; for, just now,
The coy and wayward Mercury peeps down,
Now first for many years by day unveiled;
And comes a gleam from old Orion's belt.
Night has come back, that but a few short hours
Left us as ever: what had she forgot—
Dear, dreamy Night?
Left us as ever: what had she forgot—
Dear, dreamy Night?
The morning walks in black;
The air grows chill; a weirdness is abroad;
'Tis like a fragment of the great last hour;
And well a mind not tutored by the voice
Of God-given Science, might fall dead with fright.
The air grows chill; a weirdness is abroad;
'Tis like a fragment of the great last hour;
And well a mind not tutored by the voice
Of God-given Science, might fall dead with fright.
But look!—once more a crescent!—light again
Is victor in this battle of the sky!
Broader and broader grows the curve of gold—
Deeper and deeper nestles gloom in gloom—
And now at once the welcome sun again
Illumines earth, and sends a message down:
Is victor in this battle of the sky!
Broader and broader grows the curve of gold—
Deeper and deeper nestles gloom in gloom—
And now at once the welcome sun again
Illumines earth, and sends a message down:
“This sunset and this sunrise in mid-sky,
Both in the hour—are signals that may mean—
If man so long such wonders can foresee—
What cannot God? If He can dim the sun
With worlds for clouds, and sweep them off again,
Can He not wipe away your clinging tears,
And move the fragile clouds 'neath which you walk,
O children of His heart?”
Both in the hour—are signals that may mean—
If man so long such wonders can foresee—
What cannot God? If He can dim the sun
With worlds for clouds, and sweep them off again,
Can He not wipe away your clinging tears,
And move the fragile clouds 'neath which you walk,
O children of His heart?”
31
ANCESTORS.
We went to the Fourth of July—
Marjorie—she an' I—
Where drums was beaten, an' chickens eaten,
An' banners floated high;
An' though I hoped she would some time love me,
Still I felt that she felt above me;
(I was awkward, an' hung my head,
An' she was a reg'lar thoroughbred.)
Marjorie—she an' I—
Where drums was beaten, an' chickens eaten,
An' banners floated high;
An' though I hoped she would some time love me,
Still I felt that she felt above me;
(I was awkward, an' hung my head,
An' she was a reg'lar thoroughbred.)
Marjorie, by the by,
Had more ancestors than I;
She had a knack of goin' back
Along in History's covered track,
An' pickin' her great-grandfathers out,
An' stan'in' 'em up to be bragged about.
She had a book of 'em, all in rows,
Some several thousan', I suppose;
One was a colonel, an' one a squire,
An' one was a king, or somethin' higher;
There were three brothers on fortune-hunts,
That all come over the sea at once;
An' some of 'em, by the by,
Helped make the Fourth of July;
But though their acts she couldn't condemn,
She hadn't much time to dwell on them,
But sailed her gallant ancestral bark
Almost in hailin' of Noahs ark!
An' I—poor I—
Hadn't nothin' much to reply,
Excep' that gran'father had fine ways,
An' played the bugle on trainin' days.
Had more ancestors than I;
She had a knack of goin' back
Along in History's covered track,
An' pickin' her great-grandfathers out,
An' stan'in' 'em up to be bragged about.
She had a book of 'em, all in rows,
Some several thousan', I suppose;
One was a colonel, an' one a squire,
An' one was a king, or somethin' higher;
There were three brothers on fortune-hunts,
That all come over the sea at once;
An' some of 'em, by the by,
Helped make the Fourth of July;
But though their acts she couldn't condemn,
She hadn't much time to dwell on them,
But sailed her gallant ancestral bark
Almost in hailin' of Noahs ark!
An' I—poor I—
32
Excep' that gran'father had fine ways,
An' played the bugle on trainin' days.
Marjorie, han'some an' high
(I loved her, by the by),
Enjoyed the day in a sight-seein' way,
An' so, for a time did I.
But we found, on the picnic ground,
A chap from some other village we knew,
An' he had a pedigree-weakness, too;
They learned, that a thousan' years ago,
They was relations, or nearly so;
An', standin' there by a maple tree,
Talkin' about their pedigree,
They went a-wanderin', hand in hand,
(Speakin' in figures) by sea an' land;
An' I hadn't much to say that was fine,
Excep' that a great-great-uncle of mine
Was (in the Methodist Church, you know,)
Presidin' elder, some years ago.
(I loved her, by the by),
Enjoyed the day in a sight-seein' way,
An' so, for a time did I.
But we found, on the picnic ground,
A chap from some other village we knew,
An' he had a pedigree-weakness, too;
They learned, that a thousan' years ago,
They was relations, or nearly so;
An', standin' there by a maple tree,
Talkin' about their pedigree,
They went a-wanderin', hand in hand,
(Speakin' in figures) by sea an' land;
An' I hadn't much to say that was fine,
Excep' that a great-great-uncle of mine
Was (in the Methodist Church, you know,)
Presidin' elder, some years ago.
So feelin' sort of alone, you see,
An' terrible short of pedigree,
But never carin' to mope around
If any cheerfulness could be found,
I visited gaily, with smiles to spare,
The secon'-prettiest maiden there.
An' she, though cozy an' sweet an' fine,
Didn't hang on any ancestral line,
An' had no forebears to be thankful for,
Exceptin' one in the Blackhawk war.
There on the Fourth of July,
This secon'-best girl an' I,
We was a-talkin', gay's could be,
When Marjorie come right up to me,
With manners that caused me some surprise,
An' shadows of tears in her great black eyes;
An' “will you kindly go with me,
And help me find my mother?” said she.
An' off we went—the finest of girls,
Bearin' the blood of a dozen earls,
An' I with none, as one might say,
Exceptin' what I had brought that day.
We left the young man by the tree,
Standin' alone with his pedigree;
While the gal I'd talked to, again began
A-makin' eyes at her best young man.
An' terrible short of pedigree,
But never carin' to mope around
If any cheerfulness could be found,
I visited gaily, with smiles to spare,
The secon'-prettiest maiden there.
An' she, though cozy an' sweet an' fine,
Didn't hang on any ancestral line,
An' had no forebears to be thankful for,
Exceptin' one in the Blackhawk war.
There on the Fourth of July,
This secon'-best girl an' I,
We was a-talkin', gay's could be,
When Marjorie come right up to me,
With manners that caused me some surprise,
An' shadows of tears in her great black eyes;
An' “will you kindly go with me,
And help me find my mother?” said she.
33
Bearin' the blood of a dozen earls,
An' I with none, as one might say,
Exceptin' what I had brought that day.
We left the young man by the tree,
Standin' alone with his pedigree;
While the gal I'd talked to, again began
A-makin' eyes at her best young man.
Marjorie drew a sigh,
There on the Fourth of July,
An' made no bother to find her mother,
Her mother, proud an' high,
An' always a-hangin' nigh;
But walked an' walked an' hung her head,
An' “Why are you hateful to me?” she said:
“I couldn't be hateful”, says I,
“To one that I've loved five years or more,
An' never dared to tell it before,
Because she was born in the lap of fame,
An' I hadn't an ancestor to my name.”
She walked a little closer to me:
“I've got enough for us both”, says she:
An' looked as if she would cry,
There on the Fourth of July.
There on the Fourth of July,
An' made no bother to find her mother,
Her mother, proud an' high,
An' always a-hangin' nigh;
But walked an' walked an' hung her head,
An' “Why are you hateful to me?” she said:
“I couldn't be hateful”, says I,
“To one that I've loved five years or more,
An' never dared to tell it before,
Because she was born in the lap of fame,
An' I hadn't an ancestor to my name.”
She walked a little closer to me:
“I've got enough for us both”, says she:
An' looked as if she would cry,
There on the Fourth of July.
34
IN SEPTEMBER.
The Summer seems pausing a moment for rest,
In September;
The Autumn is watching her out of the west,
And soon he will come in his fire-dappled vest.
But how like a mourner the forests will wail,
And how on the meadows will rattle the hail,
In November!
In September;
The Autumn is watching her out of the west,
And soon he will come in his fire-dappled vest.
But how like a mourner the forests will wail,
And how on the meadows will rattle the hail,
In November!
With clusters of beauty the vines are aglow,
In September;
How sweetly and softly the zephyrs can blow,
How wed to the sunlight the streamlets that flow!
But all of a sudden a chill in the air
Creeps up like a spirit, and whispers “Prepare
For December!”
In September;
How sweetly and softly the zephyrs can blow,
How wed to the sunlight the streamlets that flow!
But all of a sudden a chill in the air
Creeps up like a spirit, and whispers “Prepare
For December!”
35
FARMER STEBBINS AT THE FAIR.
They brought the biggest oxen that you ever ever see,
They fed 'em an' they combed 'em in a manner new to me;
They stood 'em up together like a row of checker-corns,
Fur to play a game o' primiums fur some ribbins on their horns.
Mac was there, an' Jack was there,
Si was there, an' I was there,
An' vowed that bulls of Bashan, or of any town or nation,
Couldn't match us what was doin' in the bellowin' an' the mooin',
That was floatin' through the air, at the Cobb County Fair.
They fed 'em an' they combed 'em in a manner new to me;
They stood 'em up together like a row of checker-corns,
Fur to play a game o' primiums fur some ribbins on their horns.
Mac was there, an' Jack was there,
Si was there, an' I was there,
An' vowed that bulls of Bashan, or of any town or nation,
Couldn't match us what was doin' in the bellowin' an' the mooin',
That was floatin' through the air, at the Cobb County Fair.
They brought the biggest roosters that had ever ever crowed,
An' the hens that cackled loudest when you met 'em in the road,
An' the butter that is yellerest when you yank it from the churn,
An' the cheese that when you bite it gives your mouth the most concern.
Sal was there, her gal was there,
An' Lu was there, an' Sue was there,
Fan was there, an' Ann was there,
An' the Sarys an' the Marys, with selections from their dairies,
While of eggs the finest pickin's—Natur's vain attempts at chickens,
There was plenty an' to spare, at the Cobb County Fair.
An' the hens that cackled loudest when you met 'em in the road,
An' the butter that is yellerest when you yank it from the churn,
An' the cheese that when you bite it gives your mouth the most concern.
Sal was there, her gal was there,
An' Lu was there, an' Sue was there,
Fan was there, an' Ann was there,
An' the Sarys an' the Marys, with selections from their dairies,
While of eggs the finest pickin's—Natur's vain attempts at chickens,
There was plenty an' to spare, at the Cobb County Fair.
They brought the sleekest hosses that we'd ever sighted yet,
An' they trotted 'em an' run 'em, an' forbid the folks to bet;
As is oft in human natur', in that case it did befall
That the one we tuk fur smartest was the slowest of 'em all.
'Than, he guessed, an' Dan, he guessed,
An' Sim computed, an' Jim computed,
An' Lo, he wagered, an' Jo, he wagered,
U-ry bet, an' I bet;
An' 'twan't what you'd be seekin' in a church-trustee or deakin;
An' we didn't do any winnin' that was big enough fur sinnin';
But we couldn't take a dare, at the Cobb County Fair.
An' they trotted 'em an' run 'em, an' forbid the folks to bet;
As is oft in human natur', in that case it did befall
That the one we tuk fur smartest was the slowest of 'em all.
'Than, he guessed, an' Dan, he guessed,
An' Sim computed, an' Jim computed,
36
U-ry bet, an' I bet;
An' 'twan't what you'd be seekin' in a church-trustee or deakin;
An' we didn't do any winnin' that was big enough fur sinnin';
But we couldn't take a dare, at the Cobb County Fair.
They got a pig an' greased it, though I think 'twould run without,
An' whoever grabbed an' held it, 'twould be his, beyond a doubt.
So we neighbors 'greed to try it, jest to show what we could do,
An' to salt it in our barrels fur to help the winter through.
Smalley grabbed it, an' Hawley grabbed it,
An' Whaley missed it, an' Bailey missed it,
Lafe Calkins clutched it, Sam Hawkins clutched it,
Abe Maxson fell over it, Frank Jackson fell over it,
Jim Fry rolled under it, an' I rolled under it;
But it shifted its position sleek as any polertician,
An' where'er we flung our mettle, there the grease appeared to settle
So we suffered wear an' tear, at the Cobb County Fair.
An' whoever grabbed an' held it, 'twould be his, beyond a doubt.
So we neighbors 'greed to try it, jest to show what we could do,
An' to salt it in our barrels fur to help the winter through.
Smalley grabbed it, an' Hawley grabbed it,
An' Whaley missed it, an' Bailey missed it,
Lafe Calkins clutched it, Sam Hawkins clutched it,
Abe Maxson fell over it, Frank Jackson fell over it,
Jim Fry rolled under it, an' I rolled under it;
But it shifted its position sleek as any polertician,
An' where'er we flung our mettle, there the grease appeared to settle
So we suffered wear an' tear, at the Cobb County Fair.
There come the finest maidens you would notice any day,
An' I didn't take the trouble fur to look the other way:
E'en a nettle or a thistle, if possessed of human power,
Wouldn't turn their eyes a minute from a sweet an' bloomin' flower.
Taller gals an' smaller gals,
Comely gals an' humly gals,
Giddy gals an stiddy gals,
Gold-made gals an' old maid gals,
Blue-eyed gals an' true-eyed gals,
Spread-haired gals an' red-haired gals—
All a-losin' of their mothers, an' a-goin' round with others,
Walkin', runnin', flirtin', dancin', an' invar'ably entrancin':
'Twas excitement to be there at the Cobb County Fair.
An' I didn't take the trouble fur to look the other way:
E'en a nettle or a thistle, if possessed of human power,
Wouldn't turn their eyes a minute from a sweet an' bloomin' flower.
Taller gals an' smaller gals,
Comely gals an' humly gals,
Giddy gals an stiddy gals,
Gold-made gals an' old maid gals,
Blue-eyed gals an' true-eyed gals,
Spread-haired gals an' red-haired gals—
All a-losin' of their mothers, an' a-goin' round with others,
Walkin', runnin', flirtin', dancin', an' invar'ably entrancin':
'Twas excitement to be there at the Cobb County Fair.
I took some fall pippins big as ever tempted Eve,
An' they tempted everybody that beheld 'em, I believe:
No, the jedges didn't jedge 'em, an' they've never jedged 'em yet:
For before they come acrost 'em, ev'ry single one was e't!
Lon e't 'em, an' John e't 'em,
An' Grace e't 'em, an' Ace e't 'em,
An' Horner e't 'em, an' Warner e't 'em,
Old Phœbe e't 'em, Bill Beebe e't 'em,
The Ryans e't 'em, th' O'Briens e't 'em,
The Sloanses e't 'em, the Joneses e't 'em,
Tom Griggs e't 'em, an' the pigs e't em:
There was ev'rybody chankin' without e'en a sign of thankin';
An' I driv home a-rippin', 'thout a primium or a pippin;
An' a mighty little share of the Cobb County Fair.
An' they tempted everybody that beheld 'em, I believe:
No, the jedges didn't jedge 'em, an' they've never jedged 'em yet:
For before they come acrost 'em, ev'ry single one was e't!
Lon e't 'em, an' John e't 'em,
An' Grace e't 'em, an' Ace e't 'em,
37
Old Phœbe e't 'em, Bill Beebe e't 'em,
The Ryans e't 'em, th' O'Briens e't 'em,
The Sloanses e't 'em, the Joneses e't 'em,
Tom Griggs e't 'em, an' the pigs e't em:
There was ev'rybody chankin' without e'en a sign of thankin';
An' I driv home a-rippin', 'thout a primium or a pippin;
An' a mighty little share of the Cobb County Fair.
38
A CONTRAST.
October held a carnival,
When Summer days had fled;
His halls were trimmed with blue and gold,
And banners flaming red.
Now all the world with fowl and fruit
Were at his table fed;
The richest wine of bough or vine
Before his guests was spread.
When Summer days had fled;
His halls were trimmed with blue and gold,
And banners flaming red.
Now all the world with fowl and fruit
Were at his table fed;
The richest wine of bough or vine
Before his guests was spread.
October held a funeral,
When Summer nights were fled;
And all the leaves and all the vines
And all the flowers were dead,
The richly colored drapery
Was burial robes instead,
And shorn of pride, he lay and died
Upon a humble bed.
When Summer nights were fled;
And all the leaves and all the vines
And all the flowers were dead,
The richly colored drapery
Was burial robes instead,
And shorn of pride, he lay and died
Upon a humble bed.
39
THE THANKSGIVING DANCE.
Wall, November's on us now—such as up to date is livin'—
An' it won't be many sunsets 'fore we've got a new Thanksgivin'.
Mebby with ungrateful heart an' a prayin' mouth to screen it:
Sometimes form is better'n nothin'—even when they do not mean it.
[Thus said Ahab Adams, merchant, quiet 'mid the city's Babel,
Lounging in his inner office, while his feet adorned a table.]
An' it won't be many sunsets 'fore we've got a new Thanksgivin'.
Mebby with ungrateful heart an' a prayin' mouth to screen it:
Sometimes form is better'n nothin'—even when they do not mean it.
[Thus said Ahab Adams, merchant, quiet 'mid the city's Babel,
Lounging in his inner office, while his feet adorned a table.]
Well, we boys looked forward fur it—used to long to give it greetin'—
Half the day inside a pew—half a-guzzlin' an' a-eatin'.
We was then ungrateful scamps—all religious joys a-shirkin';
But we yelled fur any minute that would let us loose from workin'.
Most of us is lab'rers now—with our feelin's much amended;
Fur we're maybe at the work that the Lord fur us intended!
[Then he hugged his elder brother, with a motion kind but bearish:
He was the devoted pastor of a first-class city-parish.]
Half the day inside a pew—half a-guzzlin' an' a-eatin'.
We was then ungrateful scamps—all religious joys a-shirkin';
But we yelled fur any minute that would let us loose from workin'.
Most of us is lab'rers now—with our feelin's much amended;
Fur we're maybe at the work that the Lord fur us intended!
[Then he hugged his elder brother, with a motion kind but bearish:
He was the devoted pastor of a first-class city-parish.]
Yes, we mostly liked Thanksgivin', or the day we used to call so,
When we used to eat an' eat till the stomach-ache came also!
But the best one I remember was, most ev'ry hour an' minute,
One Thanksgivin'-party with no Thanksgivin'-dinner in it!
When we used to eat an' eat till the stomach-ache came also!
But the best one I remember was, most ev'ry hour an' minute,
One Thanksgivin'-party with no Thanksgivin'-dinner in it!
Recollect in '53? how the crops come in, that season!
Everything bobbed up as ef it possessed some special reason;
Corn-ears looked like clubs of gold—wheat made faces at the measure;
Oats an' rye an' punkin vines seemed as if they growed for pleasure.
Round-eyed grape-stems 'twas a joy even just to hev a sight of;
Apples mebby like the one Eve went wrong to get a bite of.
An' I recollect you said, as you dug a two-pound tater,
“Ef there's anything that's failed, surely 'tisn't old Mammy Natur!”
Everything bobbed up as ef it possessed some special reason;
Corn-ears looked like clubs of gold—wheat made faces at the measure;
Oats an' rye an' punkin vines seemed as if they growed for pleasure.
40
Apples mebby like the one Eve went wrong to get a bite of.
An' I recollect you said, as you dug a two-pound tater,
“Ef there's anything that's failed, surely 'tisn't old Mammy Natur!”
Then, to make the whole concern more entrancin' an' delightin',
Nations far across the sea fell to bickerin' an' to fightin';
Killed each other for the sake of their boundaries enlargin';
An' we Yankees hed to feed 'em—an' we didn't forgit the chargin'.
After all the lean lank years, now hed come a fine an' fat one;
An' we capered round as ef all the rest would be like that one.
So we said, “There's fun ahead”: our hard days' works we would sof'n
With a dinner in our minds such as didn't come very of'n.
Nations far across the sea fell to bickerin' an' to fightin';
Killed each other for the sake of their boundaries enlargin';
An' we Yankees hed to feed 'em—an' we didn't forgit the chargin'.
After all the lean lank years, now hed come a fine an' fat one;
An' we capered round as ef all the rest would be like that one.
So we said, “There's fun ahead”: our hard days' works we would sof'n
With a dinner in our minds such as didn't come very of'n.
But there's one thing you can bank on: earthly joys is few an' fleetin':
Dad and Mam went off that week to a 'Sociation'l meetin'!
Dad and Mam went off that week to a 'Sociation'l meetin'!
Well, seven brothers in one house, with no women-folks to aid 'em
Couldn't make vict'als utter thanks—though we worked hard to persuade 'em:
Flour an' dough for us wouldn't go; fire had ruther roast our fingers;
Gracious! how that cookin'-bee in the mem'ry lurks an' lingers!
So we dumped into a ditch all our culinary labors;
An' you says, “Le's hev a shindig an' invite the nearest neighbors!”
Couldn't make vict'als utter thanks—though we worked hard to persuade 'em:
Flour an' dough for us wouldn't go; fire had ruther roast our fingers;
Gracious! how that cookin'-bee in the mem'ry lurks an' lingers!
So we dumped into a ditch all our culinary labors;
An' you says, “Le's hev a shindig an' invite the nearest neighbors!”
Gracious! how we took the word 'mong the misters, maids, an' madams,
“There will be a dance tonight at the house of Deacon Adams!”
What surprise was in all eyes; how with questions they would work us!
'Twouldn't hev rattled folks much more ef we'd hed a three-ring circus.
But they come at candle-lightin'—scores of 'em with curious greetin';
First time Deacon Adams' house ever hed that sort of meetin'!
“There will be a dance tonight at the house of Deacon Adams!”
What surprise was in all eyes; how with questions they would work us!
'Twouldn't hev rattled folks much more ef we'd hed a three-ring circus.
But they come at candle-lightin'—scores of 'em with curious greetin';
First time Deacon Adams' house ever hed that sort of meetin'!
Cross-eyed Baker worked the fiddle: though no sweet professional beauty,
Couldn't he make a dancin'-tune skip aroun' an' do its duty?
Wasn't his head chock full o' notes! yellin', moanin', cooin', glancin'—
Ef he'd tried, I almost think he could set a graveyard dancin'!
Broke one string, the first dumbed thing; but he rose to that superior
In a way that made our cat tremble fur its own interior!
What a voice he hed, besides!—half a roar an' half a ripple:
He could “call off” in a way that would give legs to a cripple.
Not a dance he undertook, but he made us all go through it;
Folks went trippin' 'mongst the figgers that I never thought could do it.
People that was sick abed when they got the invertation,
Now was with us in the shindig, dancin', too, like all creation;
Skippin' o'er the hard-wood floor—all its cracks an' j'ints an' hummocks—
Givin' thanks there with their heels, ef they couldn't with their stomachs.
Couldn't he make a dancin'-tune skip aroun' an' do its duty?
Wasn't his head chock full o' notes! yellin', moanin', cooin', glancin'—
Ef he'd tried, I almost think he could set a graveyard dancin'!
Broke one string, the first dumbed thing; but he rose to that superior
In a way that made our cat tremble fur its own interior!
What a voice he hed, besides!—half a roar an' half a ripple:
He could “call off” in a way that would give legs to a cripple.
41
Folks went trippin' 'mongst the figgers that I never thought could do it.
People that was sick abed when they got the invertation,
Now was with us in the shindig, dancin', too, like all creation;
Skippin' o'er the hard-wood floor—all its cracks an' j'ints an' hummocks—
Givin' thanks there with their heels, ef they couldn't with their stomachs.
Recollect old Nathan Davis?—how he made the windows rattle!
Couldn't hev caused a bigger racket ef he'd brought a drove of cattle!
Recollect Cordelia Close, of the spinsterette pursuasion?
Little thing hadn't danced before, maybe, sence the Dutch invasion.
Recollect Lycurgus Straw?—local preacher, full o' feelin':
Looked on: said he didn't think it was half as bad as stealin';
Recollect old Gran'pa Purdy?—worked up by that fiddle's mockin's,
He jest jerked off both his boots, prancin' roun' in white-toed stockin's;
Oh, I tell ye it was fine! full o' music joy an' clatter!
Not a morsel fur to eat, but a pile to make us fatter!
Couldn't hev caused a bigger racket ef he'd brought a drove of cattle!
Recollect Cordelia Close, of the spinsterette pursuasion?
Little thing hadn't danced before, maybe, sence the Dutch invasion.
Recollect Lycurgus Straw?—local preacher, full o' feelin':
Looked on: said he didn't think it was half as bad as stealin';
Recollect old Gran'pa Purdy?—worked up by that fiddle's mockin's,
He jest jerked off both his boots, prancin' roun' in white-toed stockin's;
Oh, I tell ye it was fine! full o' music joy an' clatter!
Not a morsel fur to eat, but a pile to make us fatter!
An' when everything was gorgeous, an' our blood was still a-heatin',
Dad an' Mam come happenin' in—unexpected home from meetin'.
Dad an' Mam come happenin' in—unexpected home from meetin'.
42
EAGLE AND TURKEY.
The eagle o'er us sweeping
Hath empires in his keeping;
From mountain-summits leaping,
He swims the liquid sky;
Great cannon hoarsely falling
On timid ears appalling,
To him are brothers calling,
The Fourth day of July.
Hath empires in his keeping;
From mountain-summits leaping,
He swims the liquid sky;
Great cannon hoarsely falling
On timid ears appalling,
To him are brothers calling,
The Fourth day of July.
But when the Autumns gather
Their leaden-golden weather,
And camp in woods and heather
'Mid waves of gleaming fire,
When mortals are redressing
Past errors by confessing
A year's undoubted blessing—
The eagle must retire.
Their leaden-golden weather,
And camp in woods and heather
'Mid waves of gleaming fire,
When mortals are redressing
Past errors by confessing
A year's undoubted blessing—
The eagle must retire.
As round the table teeming
With goodly victual steaming,
Each fragrant dish is seeming
To thank Heaven all it can,
When every plate is pensioned
With morsels prayer-intentioned,
No eagle e'er is mentioned:
The turkey leads the van.
With goodly victual steaming,
Each fragrant dish is seeming
To thank Heaven all it can,
When every plate is pensioned
With morsels prayer-intentioned,
No eagle e'er is mentioned:
The turkey leads the van.
43
UNCLE JAKE'S THANKSGIVING.
There's a lot o' folks they say that's a-holdin' up today
Several mercies that they only just have found;
There's a river full o' thanks that's a-bustin' of its banks,
An' a-inundatin' all de country round.
Several mercies that they only just have found;
There's a river full o' thanks that's a-bustin' of its banks,
An' a-inundatin' all de country round.
Dar's a lot o' folks I fear that's attracted by de cheer,
An' is thankin' like dey never thanked before;
An' there's lots o' fervent pra'rs like de tickets on de cars—
Good fur dis yer one day only an' no more.
An' is thankin' like dey never thanked before;
An' there's lots o' fervent pra'rs like de tickets on de cars—
Good fur dis yer one day only an' no more.
I'm a-going to make dis day sort of up an' cl'r de way
Fur a reg-lar thank-procession thro' de yeah;
So I'll sort o' set me down 'fore de odder folks is roun',
An'll undertake to view my mercies cleah.
Fur a reg-lar thank-procession thro' de yeah;
So I'll sort o' set me down 'fore de odder folks is roun',
An'll undertake to view my mercies cleah.
Here's dis rheumatis': I s'pose it's a blessin' in repose,
Fur I'm happy when it isn't to be foun';
Must've ketched it from de moon in de season of de coon;
An' I s'pose o' co'se de Lawd was watchin' roun'.
Fur I'm happy when it isn't to be foun';
Must've ketched it from de moon in de season of de coon;
An' I s'pose o' co'se de Lawd was watchin' roun'.
Here's dis bullet in my knee; 'twan't by no request o' me,
But it cured me from de nights I used to roam;
An' I think in that affair, dat de Lawd was surely there;
Fur I'm raisin' all my chickens now to home.
But it cured me from de nights I used to roam;
An' I think in that affair, dat de Lawd was surely there;
Fur I'm raisin' all my chickens now to home.
My ten chil'ren I suppose good as offspring gen'lly goes,
But deir everlastin' tricks won't let me be;
All de fool'ry I concealed, in deir actions is revealed;
An' dat's whar de Lawd has got a joke on me.
But deir everlastin' tricks won't let me be;
All de fool'ry I concealed, in deir actions is revealed;
An' dat's whar de Lawd has got a joke on me.
44
Dese yer enemies I've got, can be 'stroyed as well as not,
Ef I only count de whole mankin' as fren's;
An' de stabs an' jabs dey gib underneath de lower rib,
Is chastisin' dat de Lawd A'mighty sen's.
Ef I only count de whole mankin' as fren's;
An' de stabs an' jabs dey gib underneath de lower rib,
Is chastisin' dat de Lawd A'mighty sen's.
When dere comes a melon-famine, an' de vines is all a-shammin',
It's intended I wid gratitude should think
Of de seasons furder back, when dere wasn't any lack
Of dat hebbenly fruit containin' food an' drink.
It's intended I wid gratitude should think
Of de seasons furder back, when dere wasn't any lack
Of dat hebbenly fruit containin' food an' drink.
An' de dollars I done see dat didn't even call on me,
An' de less or greater loved ones dat I've lost—
All de t'ings dat I'm bereft, makes me thankful fur what's left;
An' is worth to soul an' body all dey cost.
An' de less or greater loved ones dat I've lost—
All de t'ings dat I'm bereft, makes me thankful fur what's left;
An' is worth to soul an' body all dey cost.
An' a million joys dar are, from de daisy to de star,
Dat is worth de time of countin' o'er and o'er;
But of all thank-timber yet, it's the things I didn't get,
That I think I hev to be de thankfulest for.
Dat is worth de time of countin' o'er and o'er;
But of all thank-timber yet, it's the things I didn't get,
That I think I hev to be de thankfulest for.
| Songs of two centuries | |