University of Virginia Library

GRANNY'S HOUSE.

Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis early morn,
Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the dinner-horn.
'T is the place, and all about it, as of old, the rat and mouse
Very loudly squeak and nibble, running over Granny's house;—
Granny's house, with all its cupboards, and its rooms as neat as wax,
And its chairs of wood unpainted, where the old cats rubbed their backs,
Many a night from yonder garret window, ere I went to rest,
Did I see the cows and horses come in slowly from the west;
Many a night I saw the chickens, flying upward through the trees,
Roosting on the sleety branches, when I thought their feet would freeze;
Here about the garden wandered, nourishing a youth sublime
With the beans, and sweet potatoes, and the melons which were prime;
When the pumpkin-vines behind me with their precious fruit reposed,
When I clung about the pear-tree, for the promise that it closed,
When I dipt into the dinner far as human eye could see,
Saw the vision of the pie, and all the dessert that would be.
In the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast;
In the spring the noisy pullet gets herself another nest;
In the spring a livelier spirit makes the ladies' tongues more glib;
In the spring a young boy's fancy lightly hatches up a fib.
Then her cheek was plump and fatter than should be for one so old,
And she eyed my every motion, with a mute intent to scold.
And I said, My worthy Granny, now I speak the truth to thee,—
Better believe it,—I have eaten all the apples from one tree.
On her kindling cheek and forehead came a color and a light,
As I have seen the rosy red flashing in the northern night;
And she turned,—her fist was shaken at the coolness of the lie;
She was mad, and I could see it, by the snapping of her eye,
Saying I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do thee wrong,—
Saying, “I shall whip you, Sammy, whipping, I shall go it strong!”
She took me up and turned me pretty roughly, when she'd done,
And every time she shook me, I tried to jerk and run;
She took off my little coat, and struck again with all her might,
And before another minute I was free and out of sight.
Many a morning, just to tease her, did I tell her stories yet,
Though her whisper made me tingle, when she told me what I 'd get;
Many an evening did I see her where the willow sprouts grew thick,
And I rushed away from Granny at the touching of her stick.
O my Granny, old and ugly, O my Granny's hateful deeds,
O the empty, empty garret, O the garden gone to weeds,
Crosser than all fancy fathoms, crosser than all songs have sung,
I was puppet to your threat, and servile to your shrewish tongue,
Is it well to wish thee happy, having seen thy whip decline
On a boy with lower shoulders, and a narrower back, than mine?
Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the dinner-horn,—
They to whom my Granny's whippings were a target for their scorn;
Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a mouldered string?
I am shamed through all my nature to have loved the mean old thing;
Weakness to be wroth with weakness! woman's pleasure, woman's spite,
Nature made them quicker motions, a considerable sight.
Woman is the lesser man, and all thy whippings matched with mine
Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine.
Here at least when I was little, something. O, for some retreat
Deep in yonder crowded city where my life began to beat,
Where one winter fell my father, slipping off a keg of lard;
I was left a trampled orphan, and my case was pretty hard,
Or to burst all links of habit, and to wander far and fleet,
On from farm-house unto farm-house till I found my Uncle Pete,
Larger sheds and barns, and newer, and a better neighborhood,
Greater breadth of field and woodland, and an orchard just as good.
Never comes my Granny, never cuts her willow switches there;
Boys are safe at Uncle Peter's, I'll bet you what you dare.
Hangs the heavy fruited pear-tree: you may eat just what you like;
'T is a sort of little Eden, about two miles off the pike.
There, methinks, would be enjoyment, more than being quite so near
To the place where even in manhood I almost shake with fear.
There the passions, cramped no longer, shall have scope and breathing space.
I will 'scape that savage woman, she shall never rear my race;
Iron-jointed, supple-sinewed, they shall dive and they shall run;
She has caught me like a wild goat, but she shall not catch my son.
He shall whistle to the dog, and get the books from off the shelf,
Not, with blinded eyesight, cutting ugly whips to whip himself.
Fool again, the dream of fancy! no, I don't believe it's bliss,
But I'm certain Uncle Peter's is a better place than this.
Let them herd with narrow foreheads, vacant of all glorious gains,
Like the horses in the stables, like the sheep that crop the lanes;
Let them mate with dirty cousins,—what to me were style or rank,
I the heir of twenty acres, and some money in the bank?
Not in vain the distance beckons, forward let us urge our load,
Let our cart-wheels spin till sundown, ringing down the grooves of road;
Through the white dust of the turnpike she can't see to give us chase:
Better seven years at uncle's, than fourteen at Granny's place.
O, I see the blessed promise of my spirit hath not set!
If we once get in the wagon, we will circumvent her yet.
Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to Granny's farm:
Not for me she'll cut the willows, not at me she'll shake her arm.
Comes a vapor from the margin, blackening over heath and holt,
Cramming all the blast before it,—guess it holds a thunderbolt:
Wish 't would fall on Granny's house, with rain, or hail, or fire, or snow,
Let me get my horses started Uncle Peteward, and I'll go.