 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
GIDEON.
With his pack on his back, and his yard-stick for staff,
And a nervous look-out for all possible buyers,
With burrs on his clothes caught in crossing the fields,
And rents and a rip made in passing through briers,
With dust on his shoes from the road that he strode
From the dawn of the day till the sun sunk in crimson,
With a look that spoke weariness, hunger and thirst,
Trudged onward the peddler, old Gideon Simson.
And a nervous look-out for all possible buyers,
With burrs on his clothes caught in crossing the fields,
And rents and a rip made in passing through briers,
With dust on his shoes from the road that he strode
From the dawn of the day till the sun sunk in crimson,
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Trudged onward the peddler, old Gideon Simson.
For years more than thirty he travelled this way—
The sun rays they tanned him, the rain drops they sprinkled—
And under the load of his pack and his years,
His hair had grown white, and his face become wrinkled.
While rival on rival gave way in disgust,
Declaring our trade would not pay for the labor,
Old Gideon went round every month of the year,
As welcome as ever, from neighbor to neighbor.
The sun rays they tanned him, the rain drops they sprinkled—
And under the load of his pack and his years,
His hair had grown white, and his face become wrinkled.
While rival on rival gave way in disgust,
Declaring our trade would not pay for the labor,
Old Gideon went round every month of the year,
As welcome as ever, from neighbor to neighbor.
How Gideon could thrive was a mystery quite
To puzzle the wits of the craftiest scholar,
For he never took profit on goods that he sold,
For a hundred cents giving what cost him a dollar.
Yet somehow this profitless trade that he drove,
Was not to his fortune at all detrimental,
Since a friend who should know said that Gideon in town
Owned a tenement-house with a very large rental.
To puzzle the wits of the craftiest scholar,
For he never took profit on goods that he sold,
For a hundred cents giving what cost him a dollar.
Yet somehow this profitless trade that he drove,
Was not to his fortune at all detrimental,
Since a friend who should know said that Gideon in town
Owned a tenement-house with a very large rental.
And what was the secret of Gideon's success,
That his cents grew to dimes, and his dimes into dollars?
Why was it in bondage our women he led,
Inclosing their necks in the closest of collars?
Each customer felt that she dealt with a rogue,
Yet dealt to the best of her purse's ability—
And why? He had mastered the key to success,
Much flattery, mingled with smiling civility.
That his cents grew to dimes, and his dimes into dollars?
Why was it in bondage our women he led,
Inclosing their necks in the closest of collars?
Each customer felt that she dealt with a rogue,
Yet dealt to the best of her purse's ability—
And why? He had mastered the key to success,
Much flattery, mingled with smiling civility.
That hooked nose of his might forbid you to buy,
The craft that peered out from his eyes might alarm you;
But the sweet, simple smile that was wreathed round his lips,
And that soft, wheedling tongue were quite certain to charm you.
He handled coarse woollens and talked till the stuff
A texture like velvet the dazed eyes begat in;
And a sixpenny print in his fingers was made,
To the poor girl who cheapened, a fabric like satin.
The craft that peered out from his eyes might alarm you;
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And that soft, wheedling tongue were quite certain to charm you.
He handled coarse woollens and talked till the stuff
A texture like velvet the dazed eyes begat in;
And a sixpenny print in his fingers was made,
To the poor girl who cheapened, a fabric like satin.
Old Gideon is dead, and there comes in his stead
A peddler who honestly deals, and we know it;
We grumble, and when we can't help it, we buy;
But we don't like the dealer, and don't spare to show it.
He may give us the worth of the money we spend,
May throw in an inch on the yard in his measure,
But where is the flattery Gideon bestowed,
The smiles and the falsehood that gave us such pleasure?
A peddler who honestly deals, and we know it;
We grumble, and when we can't help it, we buy;
But we don't like the dealer, and don't spare to show it.
He may give us the worth of the money we spend,
May throw in an inch on the yard in his measure,
But where is the flattery Gideon bestowed,
The smiles and the falsehood that gave us such pleasure?
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |