Chapter IV

Ah! will any minstrel say, In his sweetest roundelay, What is sweeter, after all, Than black haws, in early Fall-- Fruit so sweet the frost first sat, Dainty-toothed, and nibbled at! And will any poet sing Of a lusher, richer thing Than a ripe May-apple, rolled Like a pulpy lump of gold Under thumb and finger-tips, And poured molten through the lips? Go, ye bards of classic themes, Pipe your songs by classic streams! I would twang the redbird's wings In the thicket while he sings!

THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE

Oh, the Circus-Day parade! How the bugles played and played! And how the glossy horses tossed their flossy manes, and neighed, As the rattle and the rhyme of the tenor-drummer's time Filled all the hungry hearts of us with melody sublime!

How the grand band-wagon shone with a splendor all its own, And glittered with a glory that our dreams had never known! And how the boys behind, high and low of every kind, Marched in unconscious capture, with a rapture undefined!

How the horsemen, two and two, with their plumes of white and blue, And crimson, gold and purple, nodding by at me and you. Waved the banners that they bore, as the Knights in days of yore, Till our glad eyes gleamed and glistened like the spangles that they wore!

How the graceless-graceful stride of the elephant was eyed, And the capers of the little horse that cantered at his side! How the shambling camels, tame to the plaudits of their fame, With listless eyes came silent, masticating as they came.

How the cages jolted past, with each wagon battened fast, And the mystery within it only hinted of at last From the little grated square in the rear, and nosing there The snout of some strange animal that sniffed the outer air!

And, last of all, The Clown, making mirth for all the town, With his lips curved ever upward and his eyebrows ever down, And his chief attention paid to the little mule that played A tattoo on the dashboard with his heels, in the parade.

Oh! the Circus-Day parade! How the bugles played and played! And how the glossy horses tossed their flossy manes and neighed. As the rattle and the rhyme of the tenor-drummer's time Filled all the hungry hearts of us with melody sublime!

THE LUGUBRIOUS WHING-WHANG

The rhyme o' The Raggedy Man's 'at's best Is Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs,-- 'Cause that-un's the strangest of all o' the rest, An' the worst to learn, an' the last one guessed, An' the funniest one, an' the foolishest.-- Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!

I don't know what in the world it means-- Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!-- An' nen when I _tell_ him I don't, he leans Like he was a-grindin' on some machines An' says: Ef I _don't_, w'y, I don't know _beans!_ Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!--

Out on the margin of Moonshine Land, Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! Out where the Whing-Whang loves to stand, Writing his name with his tail in the sand, And swiping it out with his oogerish hand; Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!

Is it the gibber of Gungs or Keeks? Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! Or what _is_ the sound that the Whing-Whang seeks?-- Crouching low by the winding creeks And holding his breath for weeks and weeks! Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!

Aroint him the wraithest of wraithly things! Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! 'Tis a fair Whing-Whangess, with phosphor rings And bridal-jewels of fangs and stings; And she sits and as sadly and softly sings As the mildewed whir of her own dead wings,-- Tickle me, Dear, Tickle me here, Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!

WAITIN' FER THE CAT TO DIE

Lawzy! don't I rickollect That-'air old swing in the lane! Right and proper, I expect, Old times _can't_ come back again; But I want to state, ef they _Could_ come back, and I could say What _my_ pick 'ud be, i jing! I'd say, Gimme the old swing 'Nunder the old locus'-trees On the old place, ef you please!-- Danglin' there with half-shet eye, Waitin' fer the cat to die!

I'd say, Gimme the old gang Of barefooted, hungry, lean, Ornry boys you want to hang When you're growed up twic't as mean! The old gyarden-patch, the old Truants, and the stuff we stol'd! The old stompin'-groun', where we Wore the grass off, wild and free As the swoop of the old swing, Where we ust to climb and cling, And twist roun', and fight, and lie-- Waitin' fer the cat to die!

'Pears like I 'most allus could Swing the highest of the crowd-- Jes sail up there tel I stood Downside-up, and screech out loud,-- Ketch my breath, and jes drap back Fer to let the old swing slack, Yit my tow-head dippin' still In the green boughs, and the chill Up my backbone taperin' down, With my shadder on the ground' Slow and slower trailin' by-- Waitin' fer the cat to die!

Now my daughter's little Jane's Got a kind o' baby-swing On the porch, so's when it rains She kin play there--little thing! And I'd limped out t'other day With my old cheer this-a-way, Swingin' _her_ and rockin' too, Thinkin' how _I_ ust to do At _her_ age, when suddently, "Hey, Gran'pap!" she says to me, "Why you rock so slow?" ... Says I, "Waitin' fer the cat to die!"

NAUGHTY CLAUDE

When Little Claude was naughty wunst
At dinner-time, an' said
He won't say "_Thank you_" to his Ma,
She maked him go to bed
An' stay two hours an' not git up,--
So when the clock struck Two,
Nen Claude says,--"Thank you, Mr. Clock,
I'm much obleeged to you!"

THE SOUTH WIND AND THE SUN

O the South Wind and the Sun
How each loved the other one--
Full of fancy--full of folly--
Full of jollity and fun!
How they romped and ran about,
Like two boys when school is out,
With glowing face, and lisping lip,
Low laugh, and lifted shout!

And the South Wind--he was dressed
With a ribbon round his breast
That floated, flapped and fluttered
In a riotous unrest;
And a drapery of mist,
From the shoulder and the wrist
Flowing backward with the motion
Of the waving hand he kissed.

And the Sun had on a crown
Wrought of gilded thistledown,
And a scarf of velvet vapor,
And a raveled-rainbow gown;
And his tinsel-tangled hair,
Tossed and lost upon the air,
With glossier and flossier
Than any anywhere.

And the South Wind's eyes were two
Little dancing drops of dew,
As he puffed his cheeks, and pursed his lips,
And blew and blew and blew!
And the Sun's--like diamond-stone,
Brighter yet than ever known,
As he knit his brows and held his breath,
And shone and shone and shone!

And this pair of merry fays
Wandered through the summer days;
Arm-in-arm they went together
Over heights of morning haze--
Over slanting slopes of lawn
They went on and on and on,
Where the daisies looked like star-tracks
Trailing up and down the dawn.

And where'er they found the top
Of a wheat-stalk droop and lop,
They chucked it underneath the chin
And praised the lavish crop,
Till it lifted with the pride
Of the heads it grew beside,
And then the South Wind and the Sun
Went onward satisfied.

Over meadow-lands they tripped,
Where the dandelions dipped
In crimson foam of clover bloom
And dripped and dripped and dripped!
And they clinched the bumble-stings,
Gauming honey on their wings,
And bundling them in lily-bells,
With maudlin murmurings.

And the humming-bird, that hung
Like a jewel up among
The tilted honeysuckle horns,
They mesmerized and swung
In the palpitating air,
Drowsed with odors strange and rare,
And, with whispered laughter, slipped away,
And left him hanging there.

And they braided blades of grass
Where the truant had to pass;
And they wriggled through the rushes
And the reeds of the morass,
Where they danced, in rapture sweet,
O'er the leaves that laid a street
Of undulant mosaic for
The touches of their feet.

By the brook with mossy brink,
Where the cattle came to drink,
They trilled and piped and whistled
With the thrush and bobolink,
Till the kine, in listless pause,
Switched their tails in mute applause,
With lifted heads, and dreamy eyes,
And bubble-dripping jaws.

And where the melons grew,
Streaked with yellow, green and blue,
These jolly sprites went wandering
Through spangled paths of dew;
And the melons, here and there,
They made love to, everywhere,
Turning their pink souls to crimson
With caresses fond and fair.

Over orchard walls they went,
Where the fruited boughs were bent
Till they brushed the sward beneath them
Where the shine and shadow blent;
And the great green pear they shook
Till the sallow hue forsook
Its features, and the gleam of gold
Laughed out in every look.

And they stroked the downy cheek
Of the peach, and smoothed it sleek,
And flushed it into splendor;
And, with many an elfish freak,
Gave the russet's rust a wipe--
Prankt the rambo with a stripe,
And the winesap blushed its reddest
As they spanked the pippins ripe.

Through the woven ambuscade
That the twining vines had made,
They found the grapes, in clusters,
Drinking up the shine and shade--
Plumpt, like tiny skins of wine,
With a vintage so divine
That the tongue of Fancy tingled
With the tang of muscadine.

And the golden-banded bees,
Droning o'er the flowery leas,
They bridled, reined, and rode away
Across the fragrant breeze,
Till in hollow oak and elm
They had groomed and stabled them
In waxen stalls that oozed with dews
Of rose and lily-stem.

Where the dusty highway leads,
High above the wayside weeds,
They sowed the air with butterflies
Like blooming flower-seeds,
Till the dull grasshopper sprung
Half a man's-height up, and hung
Tranced in the heat, with whirring wings,
And sung and sung and sung!

And they loitered, hand in hand,
Where the snipe along the sand
Of the river ran to meet them
As the ripple meets the land,
Till the dragonfly, in light
Gauzy armor, burnished bright,
Came tilting down the waters
In a wild, bewildered flight.

And they heard the kildee's call,
And afar, the waterfall,
But the rustle of a falling leaf
They heard above it all;
And the trailing willow crept
Deeper in the tide that swept
The leafy shallop to the shore,
And wept and wept and wept!

And the fairy vessel veered
From its moorings--tacked and steered
For the center of the current--
Sailed away and disappeared:
And the burthen that it bore
From the long-enchanted shore--
"Alas! the South Wind and the Sun!"
I murmur evermore.

For the South Wind and the Sun,
Each so loves the other one,
For all his jolly folly,
And frivolity and fun,
That our love for them they weigh
As their fickle fancies may,
And when at last we love them most,
They laugh and sail away.

THE JOLLY MILLER

[Restored Romaunt.]

It was a Jolly Miller lived on the River Dee;
He looked upon his piller, and there he found a flea:
"O Mr. Flea! you have bit' me,
And you shall shorely die!"
So he scrunched his bones against the stones--
And there he let him lie!

Twas then the Jolly Miller he laughed and told his wife,
And _she_ laughed fit to kill her, and dropped her carvin'-knife!--
"O Mr. Flea!" "Ho-ho!" "Tee-hee!"
They _both_ laughed fit to kill,
Until the sound did almost drownd
The rumble of the mill!

_"Laugh on, my Jolly Miller! and Missus Miller, too!--
But there's a weeping-willer will soon wave over you!"_
The voice was all so awful small--
So very small and slim!--
He durst' infer that it was her,
Ner her infer 'twas him!

That night the Jolly Miller, says he, "It's Wifey dear,
That cat o' yourn, I'd kill her!--her actions is so queer,--
She rubbin' 'ginst the grindstone-legs,
And yowlin' at the sky--
And I 'low the moon haint greener
Than the yaller of her eye!"

And as the Jolly Miller went chuckle-un to bed,
Was _Somepin_ jerked his piller from underneath his head!
"O Wife," says he, on-easi-lee,
"Fetch here that lantern there!"
But _Somepin_ moans in thunder tones,
"_You tetch it ef you dare!_"

'Twas then the Jolly Miller he trimbled and he quailed--
And his wife choked until her breath come back, 'n' she _wailed!_
And "_O!"_ cried she, "it is _the Flea_,
All white and pale and wann--
He's got you in his clutches, and
_He's bigger than a man!_"

"_Ho! ho! my Jolly Miller," (fer 'twas the Flea, fer shore!)
"I reckon you'll not rack my bones ner scrunch 'em any more!_"
And then _the Ghost_ he grabbed him clos't,
With many a ghastly smile,
And from the doorstep stooped and hopped
About four hundred mile!

OUR HIRED GIRL

Our hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann;
An' she can cook best things to eat!
She ist puts dough in our pie-pan,
An' pours in somepin' 'at's good and sweet,
An' nen she salts it all on top
With cinnamon; an' nen she'll stop
An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow,
In th' old cook-stove, so's 'twon't slop
An' git all spilled; nen bakes it, so
It's custard pie, first thing you know!
An' nen she'll say:
"Clear out o' my way!
They's time fer work, an' time fer play!--
Take yer dough, an' run, Child; run!
Er I cain't git no cookin' done!"

When our hired girl 'tends like she's mad,
An' says folks got to walk the chalk
When _she's_ around, er wisht they had,
I play out on our porch an' talk
To th' Raggedy Man 'at mows our lawn;
An' he says "_Whew!"_ an' nen leans on
His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes
An' sniffs all around an' says,--"I swawn!
Ef my old nose don't tell me lies,
It 'pears like I smell custard-pies!"
An' nen _he'll_ say,--
"'Clear out' o' my way!
They's time fer work an' time fer play!
Take yer dough, an' run, Child; run!
Er _she_ cain't git no cookin' done!'"

Wunst our hired girl, one time when she
Got the supper, an' we all et,
An' it was night, an' Ma an' me
An' Pa went wher' the "Social" met,--
An' nen when we come home, an' see
A light in the kitchen-door, an' we
Heerd a maccordeum, Pa says "Lan'--
O'Gracious! who can _her_ beau be?"
An' I marched in, an' 'Lizabuth Ann
Wuz parchin' corn fer the Raggedy Man!
_Better_ say
"Clear out o' the way!
They's time fer work, an' time fer play!
Take the hint, an' run, Child; run!
Er we cain't git no _courtin_' done!'"

THE BOYS' CANDIDATE

Las' time 'at Uncle Sidney come, He bringed a watermelon home-- An' half the boys in town, Come taggin' after him.--An' he Says, when we et it,--_"Gracious me! 'S the boy-house fell down?"_

THE PET COON

Noey Bixler ketched him, and fetched him in to me
When he's ist a little teenty-weenty baby-coon
'Bout as big as little pups, an' tied him to a tree;
An' Pa gived Noey fifty cents, when he come home at noon.
Nen he buyed a chain fer him, an' little collar, too,
An' sawed a hole in a' old tub an' turnt it upside-down;
An' little feller'd stay in there and won't come out fer you--
'Tendin' like he's kindo' skeered o' boys 'at lives in town.

_Now_ he aint afeard a bit! he's ist so fat an' tame,
We on'y chain him up at night, to save the little chicks.
Holler "Greedy! Greedy!" to him, an' he knows his name,
An' here he'll come a-waddle-un, up fer any tricks!
He'll climb up my leg, he will, an' waller in my lap,
An' poke his little black paws 'way in my pockets where
They's beechnuts, er chinkypins, er any little scrap
Of anything, 'at's good to eat--an' _he_ don't care!

An' he's as spunky as you please, an' don't like dogs at all.--
Billy Miller's black-an'-tan tackled him one day,
An' "Greedy" he ist kindo' doubled all up like a ball,
An' Billy's dog he gived a yelp er two an' runned away!
An' nen when Billy fighted me, an' hit me with a bone,
An' Ma she purt'nigh ketched him as he dodged an' skooted thro'
The fence, she says, "You better let my little boy alone,
Er 'Greedy,' next he whips yer dog, shall whip you, too!"

THE OLD HAY-MOW

The Old Hay-mow's the place to play Fer boys, when it's a rainy day! I good-'eal ruther be up there Than down in town, er anywhere!

When I play in our stable-loft, The good old hay's so dry an' soft, An' feels so fine, an' smells so sweet, I 'most ferget to go an' eat.

An' one time wunst I _did_ ferget To go 'tel dinner was all et,-- An' they had short-cake--an'--Bud he Hogged up the piece Ma saved fer me!

Nen I won't let him play no more In our hay-mow where I keep store An' got hen-eggs to sell,--an' shoo The cackle-un old hen out, too!

An' nen, when Aunty she was here A-visitun from Rensselaer, An' bringed my little cousin,--_he_ Can come up there an' play with me.

But, after while--when Bud he bets 'At I can't turn no summersetts,-- I let him come up, ef he can Ac' ha'f-way like a gentleman!

ON THE SUNNY SIDE

Hi and whoop-hooray, boys!
Sing a song of cheer!
Here's a holiday, boys,
Lasting half a year!
Round the world, and half is
Shadow we have tried;
Now we're where the laugh is,--
On the sunny side!

Pigeons coo and mutter,
Strutting high aloof
Where the sunbeans flutter
Through the stable roof.
Hear the chickens cheep, boys,
And the hen with pride
Clucking them to sleep, boys,
On the sunny side!

Hear the clacking guinea;
Hear the cattle moo;
Hear the horses whinny,
Looking out at you!
On the hitching-block, boys,
Grandly satisfied,
See the old peacock, boys,
On the sunny side!

Robins in the peach-tree;
Bluebirds in the pear;
Blossoms over each tree
In the orchard there!
All the world's in joy, boys,
Glad and glorified
As a romping boy, boys,
On the sunny side!

Where's a heart as mellow?
Where's a soul as free?
Where is any fellow
We would rather be?
Just ourselves or none, boys,
World around and wide,
Laughing in the sun, boys,
On the sunny side!

A SUDDEN SHOWER

Barefooted boys scud up the street
Or skurry under sheltering sheds;
And schoolgirl faces, pale and sweet,
Gleam from the shawls about their heads.

Doors bang; and mother-voices call
From alien homes; and rusty gates
Are slammed; and high above it all,
The thunder grim reverberates.

And then, abrupt,--the rain! the rain!--
The earth lies gasping; and the eyes
Behind the streaming window-pane
Smile at the trouble of the skies.

The highway smokes; sharp echoes ring;
The cattle bawl and cowbells clank;
And into town comes galloping
The farmer's horse, with streaming flank.

The swallow dips beneath the eaves,
And flirts his plumes and folds his wings;
And under the catawba leaves
The caterpillar curls and clings.

The bumble-bee is pelted down
The wet stem of the hollyhock;
And sullenly, in spattered brown,
The cricket leaps the garden walk.

Within, the baby claps his hands
And crows with rapture strange and vague;
Without, beneath the rosebush stands
A dripping rooster on one leg.

GRANDFATHER SQUEERS

"My grandfather Squeers," said The Raggedy Man, As he solemnly lighted his pipe and began--

"The most indestructible man, for his years, And the grandest on earth, was my grandfather Squeers!

"He said, when he rounded his three-score-and-ten, 'I've the hang of it now and can do it again!'

"He had frozen his heels so repeatedly, he Could tell by them just what the weather would be;

"And would laugh and declare, 'while the _Almanac_ would Most falsely prognosticate, _he_ never could!'

"Such a hale constitution had grandfather Squeers That, 'though he'd used '_navy_' for sixty odd years,

"He still chewed a dime's-worth six days of the week, While the seventh he passed with a chew in each cheek:

"Then my grandfather Squeers had a singular knack Of sitting around on the small of his back,

"With his legs like a letter Y stretched o'er the grate Wherein 'twas his custom to ex-pec-tor-ate.

"He was fond of tobacco in _manifold_ ways, And would sit on the door-step, of sunshiny days,

"And smoke leaf-tobacco he'd raised strictly for The pipe he'd used all through The Mexican War."

And The Raggedy Man said, refilling the bowl Of his own pipe and leisurely picking a coal

From the stove with his finger and thumb, "You can see What a tee-nacious habit he's fastened on me!

"And my grandfather Squeers took a special delight In pruning his corns every Saturday night

"With a horn-handled razor, whose edge he excused By saying 'twas one that his grandfather used;

"And, though deeply etched in the haft of the same Was the ever-euphonious Wostenholm's name,

"'Twas my grandfather's custom to boast of the blade As 'A Seth Thomas razor--the best ever made!'

"No Old Settlers' Meeting, or Pioneers' Fair, Was complete without grandfather Squeers in the chair

"To lead off the programme by telling folks how 'He used to shoot deer where the Court-House stands now'--

"How 'he felt, of a truth, to live over the past, When the country was wild and unbroken and vast,

"'That the little log cabin was just plenty fine For himself, his companion, and fambly of nine!--

"'When they didn't have even a pump, or a tin, But drunk surface-water, year out and year in,

"'From the old-fashioned gourd that was sweeter, by odds, Than the goblets of gold at the lips of the gods!'"

Then The Raggedy Man paused to plaintively say It was clockin' along to'rds the close of the day--

And he'd _ought_ to get back to his work on the lawn,-- Then dreamily blubbered his pipe and went on:

"His teeth were imperfect--my grandfather owned That he couldn't eat oysters unless they were 'boned';

"And his eyes were so weak, and so feeble of sight, He couldn't sleep with them unless, every night,

"He put on his spectacles--all he possessed,-- Three pairs--with his goggles on top of the rest.

"And my grandfather always, retiring at night, Blew down the lamp-chimney to put out the light;

"Then he'd curl up on edge like a shaving, in bed, And puff and smoke pipes in his sleep, it is said:

"And would snore oftentimes as the legends relate, Till his folks were wrought up to a terrible state,--

"Then he'd snort, and rear up, and roll over; and there, In the subsequent hush they could hear him chew air.

"And so glaringly bald was the top of his head That many's the time he has musingly said,

"As his eyes journeyed o'er its reflex in the glass,-- 'I must set out a few signs of _Keep Off the Grass!_'

"So remarkably deaf was my grandfather Squeers That he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears

"To even hear thunder--and oftentimes then He was forced to request it to thunder again."

THE PIXY PEOPLE

It was just a very
Merry fairy dream!--
All the woods were airy
With the gloom and gleam;
Crickets in the clover
Clattered clear and strong,
And the bees droned over
Their old honey-song.

In the mossy passes,
Saucy grasshoppers
Leapt about the grasses
And the thistle-burs;
And the whispered chuckle
Of the katydid
Shook the honeysuckle
Blossoms where he hid.

Through the breezy mazes
Of the lazy June,
Drowsy with the hazes
Of the dreamy noon,
Little Pixy people
Winged above the walk,
Pouring from the steeple
Of a mullein-stalk.

One--a gallant fellow--
Evidently King,--
Wore a plume of yellow
In a jewelled ring
On a pansy bonnet,
Gold and white and blue,
With the dew still on it,
And the fragrance, too.

One--a dainty lady,--
Evidently Queen,--
Wore a gown of shady
Moonshine and green,
With a lace of gleaming
Starlight that sent
All the dewdrops dreaming
Everywhere she went.

One wore a waistcoat
Of roseleaves, out and in,
And one wore a faced-coat
Of tiger-lily-skin;
And one wore a neat coat
Of palest galingale;
And one a tiny street-coat,
And one a swallow-tail.

And Ho! sang the King of them,
And Hey! sang the Queen;
And round and round the ring of them
Went dancing o'er the green;
And Hey! sang the Queen of them,
And Ho! sang the King--
And all that I had seen of them
--Wasn't anything!

It was just a very
Merry fairy dream!--
All the woods were airy
With the gloom and gleam;
Crickets in the clover
Clattered clear and strong,
And the bees droned over
Their old honey-song!

A LIFE-LESSON

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your doll, I know;
And your tea-set blue,
And your play-house, too,
Are things of the long ago;
But childish troubles will soon pass by.--
There! little girl; don't cry!

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your slate, I know;
And the glad, wild ways
Of your school-girl days
Are things of the long ago;
But life and love will soon come by.--
There! little girl; don't cry!

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your heart, I know;
And the rainbow gleams
Of your youthful dreams
Are things of the long ago;
But Heaven holds all for which you sigh.--
There! little girl; don't cry!

A HOME-MADE FAIRY-TALE

Bud, come here to your Uncle a spell, And I'll tell you something you mustn't tell-- For it's a secret and shore-nuff true, And maybe I oughtn't to tell it to you!-- But out in the garden, under the shade Of the apple-trees where we romped and played Till the moon was up, and you thought I'd gone Fast asleep.--That was all put on! For I was a-watchin' something queer Goin' on there in the grass, my dear! 'Way down deep in it, there I see A little dude-Fairy who winked at me, And snapped his fingers, and laughed as low And fine as the whine of a mus-kee-to! I kept still--watchin' him closer--and I noticed a little guitar in his hand, Which he leant 'ginst a little dead bee--and laid His cigarette down on a clean grass-blade; And then climbed up on the shell of a snail-- Carefully dusting his swallowtail-- And pulling up, by a waxed web-thread, This little guitar, you remember, I said! And there he trinkled and trilled a tune-- "My Love, so Fair, Tans in the Moon!" Till presently, out of the clover-top He seemed to be singing to, came k'pop! The purtiest, daintiest Fairy face In all this world, or any place! Then the little ser'nader waved his hand, As much as to say, "We'll excuse _you_!" and I heard, as I squinted my eyelids to, A kiss like the drip of a drop of dew!

THE BEAR STORY

THAT ALEX "IST MAKED UP HIS-OWN-SE'F"

W'y, wunst they wuz a Little Boy went out In the woods to shoot a Bear. So, he went out 'Way in the grea'-big woods--he did.--An' he Wuz goin' along--an' goin' along, you know, An' purty soon he heerd somepin' go "_Wooh!"_-- Ist thataway--"_Woo-ooh!"_ An' he wuz _skeered_, He wuz. An' so he runned an' clumbed a tree-- A grea'-big tree, he did,--a sicka-_more_ tree. An' nen he heerd it ag'in: an' he looked round, An' _'t'uz a Bear!--a grea'-big shore-nuff Bear!_-- No: 't'uz _two_ Bears, it wuz--two grea'-big Bears-- _One_ of 'em wuz--ist _one's_ a _grea'-big_ Bear.-- But they ist _boff_ went "_Wooh!_"--An' here _they_ come To climb the tree an' git the Little Boy An' eat him up!

An' nen the Little Boy He 'uz skeered worse'n ever! An' here come The grea'-big Bear a-climbin' th' tree to git The Little Boy an' eat him up--Oh, _no!_-- It 'uzn't the _Big_ Bear 'at clumb the tree-- It 'uz the _Little_ Bear. So here _he_ come Climbin' the tree--an' climbin' the tree! Nen when He git wite _clos't_ to the Little Boy, w'y nen The Little Boy he ist pulled up his gun An' _shot_ the Bear, he did, an' killed him dead! An' nen the Bear he falled clean on down out The tree--away clean to the ground, he did-- _Spling-splung!_ he falled _plum_ down, an' killed him, too! An' lit wite side o' where the _Big_ Bear's at.

An' nen the Big Bear's awful mad, you bet!-- 'Cause--'cause the Little Boy he shot his gun An' killed the _Little_ Bear.--'Cause the _Big_ Bear He--he 'uz the Little Bear's Papa.--An' so here _He_ come to climb the big old tree an' git The Little Boy an' eat him up! An' when The Little Boy he saw the _grea'-big Bear_ A-comin', he uz badder skeered, he wuz, Than _any_ time! An' so he think he'll climb Up _higher_--'way up higher in the tree Than the old _Bear_ kin climb, you know.--But he-- He _can't_ climb higher 'an old _Bears_ kin climb,-- 'Cause Bears kin climb up higher in the trees Than any little Boys in all the Wo-r-r-ld!

An' so here come the grea'-big-Bear, he did,-- A-climbin' up--an' up the tree, to git The Little Boy an' eat him up! An' so The Little Boy he clumbed on higher, an' higher, An' higher up the tree--an' higher--an' higher-- An' higher'n iss-here _house_ is!--An' here come Th' old Bear--clos'ter to him all the time!-- An' nen--first thing you know,--when th' old Big Bear Wuz wite clos't to him--nen the Little Boy Ist jabbed his gun wite in the old Bear's mouf An' shot an' killed him dead!--No; I _fergot_,-- He didn't shoot the grea'-big Bear at all-- 'Cause _they 'uz no load in the gun_, you know-- 'Cause when he shot the _Little_ Bear, w'y, nen No load 'uz anymore nen _in_ the gun!

But th' Little Boy clumbed _higher_ up, he did-- He clumbed _lots_ higher--an' on up _higher_--an' higher An' _higher_--tel he ist _can't_ climb no higher, 'Cause nen the limbs 'uz all so little, 'way Up in the teeny-weeny tip-top of The tree, they'd break down wiv him ef he don't Be keerful! So he stop an' think: An' nen He look around--An' here come th' old Bear!

An' so the Little Boy make up his mind He's got to ist git out o' there _some_ way!-- 'Cause here come the old Bear!--so clos't, his bref's Purt 'nigh so's he kin feel how hot it is Ag'inst his bare feet--ist like old "Ring's" bref When he's ben out a-huntin' an's all tired. So when th' old Bear's so clos't--the Little Boy Ist gives a grea'-big jump fer '_nother_ tree-- No!--no he don't do that!--I tell you what The Little Boy does:--W'y, nen--w'y, he--Oh, _yes_-- The Little Boy _he finds a hole up there 'At's in the tree_--an' climbs in there an' _hides_-- An' _nen_ th' old Bear can't find the Little Boy At all!--But, purty soon th' old Bear finds The Little Boy's _gun_ 'at's up there--'cause the _gun_ It's too _tall_ to tooked wiv him in the hole. So, when the old Bear fin' the _gun_, he knows The Little Boy's ist _hid_ 'round _somers_ there,-- An' th' old Bear 'gins to snuff an' sniff around, An' sniff an' snuff around--so's he kin find Out where the Little Boy's hid at.--An' nen--nen-- Oh, _yes!_--W'y, purty soon the old Bear climbs 'Way out on a big limb--a grea'-long limb,-- An' nen the Little Boy climbs out the hole An' takes his ax an' chops the limb off!... Nen The old Bear falls _k-splunge!_ clean to the ground An' bust an' kill hisse'f plum dead, he did!

An' nen the Little Boy he git his gun An' 'menced a-climbin' down the tree ag'in-- No!--no, he _didn't_ git his _gun_--'cause when The _Bear_ falled, nen the _gun_ falled, too--An' broked It all to pieces, too!--An' _nicest_ gun!-- His Pa ist buyed it!--An' the Little Boy Ist cried, he did; an' went on climbin' down The tree--an' climbin' down--an' climbin' down!-- _An'-sir!_ when he 'uz purt'-nigh down,--w'y, nen _The old Bear he jumped up ag'in_--an' he Ain't dead at all--ist _'tendin'_ thataway, So he kin git the Little Boy an' eat Him up! But the Little Boy he 'uz too smart To climb clean _down_ the tree.--An' the old Bear He can't climb _up_ the tree no more--'cause when He fell, he broke one of his--he broke _all_ His legs!--an' nen he _couldn't_ climb! But he Ist won't go'way an' let the Little Boy Come down out of the tree. An' the old Bear Ist growls 'round there, he does--ist growls an' goes "_Wooh!--woo-ooh!"_ all the time! An' Little Boy He haf to stay up in the tree--all night-- An' 'thout no _supper_ neether!--On'y they Wuz _apples_ on the tree!--An' Little Boy Et apples--ist all night--an' cried--an' cried! Nen when 'tuz morning th' old Bear went _"Wooh!"_ Ag'in, an' try to climb up in the tree An' git the Little Boy.--But he _can't_ Climb t'save his _soul_, he can't!--An' _oh!_ he's _mad!_-- He ist tear up the ground! an' go _"Woo-ooh!"_ An'--_Oh, yes!_--purty soon, when morning's come All _light_--so's you kin _see_, you know,--w'y, nen The old Bear finds the Little Boy's _gun_, you know, 'At's on the ground.--(An' it ain't broke at all-- I ist _said_ that!) An' so the old Bear think He'll take the gun an' _shoot_ the Little Boy:-- But _Bears they_ don't know much 'bout shootin' guns; So when he go to shoot the Little Boy, The old Bear got the _other_ end the gun Ag'in' his shoulder, 'stid o' _th' other_ end-- So when he try to shoot the Little Boy, It shot _the Bear_, it did--an' killed him dead! An' nen the Little Boy clumb down the tree An' chopped his old woolly head off:--Yes, an' killed The _other_ Bear ag'in, he did--an' killed All _boff_ the bears, he did--an' tuk 'em home An' _cooked_ 'em, too, an' _et_ 'em! --An' that's all.

ENVOY

Many pleasures of youth have been buoyantly sung--
And, borne on the winds of delight, may they beat
With their palpitant wings at the hearts of the Young,
And in bosoms of Age find as warm a retreat!--
Yet sweetest of all of the musical throng,
Though least of the numbers that upward aspire,
Is the one rising now into wavering song,
As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire.

'Tis a Winter long dead that beleaguers my door
And muffles his steps in the snows of the past:
And I see, in the embers I'm dreaming before,
Lost faces of love as they looked on me last:--
The round, laughing eyes of the desk-mate of old
Gleam out for a moment with truant desire--
Then fade and are lost in a City of Gold,
As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire.

And then comes the face, peering back in my own,
Of a shy little girl, with her lids drooping low,
As she faltering tells, in a far-away tone,
The ghost of a story of long, long ago.--
Then her dewy blue eyes they are lifted again;
But I see their glad light slowly fail and expire,
As I reach and cry to her in vain, all in vain!--
As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire.

Then the face of a Mother looks back, through the mist
Of tears that are welling; and, lucent with light,
I see the dear smile of the lips I have kissed
As she knelt by my cradle at morning and night;
And my arms are outheld, with a yearning too wild
For any but God in His love to inspire,
As she pleads at the foot of His throne for her child,--
As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire.

O pathos of rapture! O glorious pain!
My heart is a blossom of joy over-run
With a shower of tears, as a lily with rain
That weeps in the shadow and laughs in the sun.
The blight of the frost may descend on the tree,
And the leaf and the flower may fall and expire,
But ever and ever love blossoms for me,
As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire.

End of Project Gutenberg's Riley Child-Rhymes, by James Whitcomb Riley