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diff --git a/16265.txt b/16265.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..79f0623 --- /dev/null +++ b/16265.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2969 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Riley Songs of Home, by James Whitcomb Riley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Riley Songs of Home + +Author: James Whitcomb Riley + +Release Date: July 12, 2005 [EBook #16265] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RILEY SONGS OF HOME *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Scott G. Sims and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +RILEY +SONGS OF HOME + +JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + +WITH PICTURES BY +WILL VAWTER + + +NEW YORK +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS + + + +1910 +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + + +TO +GEORGE A. CARR + + + + +CONTENTS + + + AS CREATED 56 + AS MY UNCLE USED TO SAY 126 + AT SEA 160 + BACKWARD LOOK, A 155 + BEST IS GOOD ENOUGH, THE 123 + BOYS, THE 104 + "BRAVE REFRAIN, A" 113 + DREAMER, SAY 61 + FEEL IN THE CHRIS'MAS AIR, A 52 + FOR YOU 50 + GOOD MAN, A 132 + HER BEAUTIFUL HANDS 189 + HIS ROOM 38 + HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB 125 + "HOW DID YOU REST, LAST NIGHT?" 94 + IN THE EVENING 115 + IT'S GOT TO BE 107 + JACK-IN-THE-BOX 100 + JIM 117 + JOHN McKEEN 165 + JUST TO BE GOOD 26 + KNEELING WITH HERRICK 138 + LAUGHTER HOLDING BOTH HIS SIDES 81 + MULBERRY TREE, THE 46 + MY DANCIN' DAYS IS OVER 184 + MY FRIEND 29 + NATURAL PERVERSITIES 70 + NOT ALWAYS GLAD WHEN WE SMILE 36 + OLD DAYS, THE 135 + OLD GUITAR, THE 161 + OLD TRUNDLE-BED, THE 64 + OUR BOYHOOD HAUNTS 182 + OUR KIND OF A MAN 92 + OUR OWN 63 + "OUT OF REACH?" 112 + OUT OF THE HITHERWHERE 98 + PLAINT HUMAN, THE 43 + QUEST, THE 44 + RAINY MORNING, THE 141 + REACH YOUR HAND TO ME 143 + SCRAWL, A 75 + SONG OF PARTING 90 + SONG OF YESTERDAY, THE 82 + SPRING SONG AND A LATER, A 137 + "THEM OLD CHEERY WORDS" 172 + THINKIN' BACK 31 + THROUGH SLEEPY-LAND 170 + TO MY OLD FRIEND, WILLIAM LEACHMAN 145 + TO THE JUDGE 177 + WE MUST BELIEVE 130 + WE MUST GET HOME 19 + WHERE-AWAY 57 + WHO BIDES HIS TIME 68 + WRITIN' BACK TO THE HOME-FOLKS 76 + + + + +RILEY SONGS OF HOME + + + + +[Illustration] + +WE MUST GET HOME + + +We must get home! How could we stray like this?-- +So far from home, we know not where it is,-- +Only in some fair, apple-blossomy place +Of children's faces--and the mother's face-- +We dimly dream it, till the vision clears +Even in the eyes of fancy, glad with tears. + +We must get home--for we have been away +So long, it seems forever and a day! +And O so very homesick we have grown, +The laughter of the world is like a moan +In our tired hearing, and its song as vain,-- +We must get home--we must get home again! + +We must get home! With heart and soul we yearn +To find the long-lost pathway, and return!... +The child's shout lifted from the questing band +Of old folk, faring weary, hand in hand, +But faces brightening, as if clouds at last +Were showering sunshine on us as we passed. + +We must get home: It hurts so staying here, +Where fond hearts must be wept out tear by tear, +And where to wear wet lashes means, at best, +When most our lack, the least our hope of rest-- +When most our need of joy, the more our pain-- +We must get home--we must get home again! + +[Illustration] + +We must get home--home to the simple things-- +The morning-glories twirling up the strings +And bugling color, as they blared in blue- +And-white o'er garden-gates we scampered through; +The long grape-arbor, with its under-shade +Blue as the green and purple overlaid. + +We must get home: All is so quiet there: +The touch of loving hands on brow and hair-- +Dim rooms, wherein the sunshine is made mild-- +The lost love of the mother and the child +Restored in restful lullabies of rain,-- +We must get home--we must get home again! + +The rows of sweetcorn and the China beans +Beyond the lettuce-beds where, towering, leans +The giant sunflower in barbaric pride +Guarding the barn-door and the lane outside; +The honeysuckles, midst the hollyhocks, +That clamber almost to the martin-box. + +We must get home, where, as we nod and drowse, +Time humors us and tiptoes through the house, +And loves us best when sleeping baby-wise, +With dreams--not tear-drops--brimming our clenched eyes,-- +Pure dreams that know nor taint nor earthly stain-- +We must get home--we must get home again! + +We must get home! The willow-whistle's call +Trills crisp and liquid as the waterfall-- +Mocking the trillers in the cherry-trees +And making discord of such rhymes as these, +That know nor lilt nor cadence but the birds +First warbled--then all poets afterwards. + +We must get home; and, unremembering there +All gain of all ambition otherwhere, +Rest--from the feverish victory, and the crown +Of conquest whose waste glory weighs us down.-- +Fame's fairest gifts we toss back with disdain-- +We must get home--we must get home again! + +We must get home again--we must--we must!-- +(Our rainy faces pelted in the dust) +Creep back from the vain quest through endless strife +To find not anywhere in all of life +A happier happiness than blest us then ... +We must get home--we must get home again! + +[Illustration] + + + + +JUST TO BE GOOD + + +Just to be good-- + This is enough--enough! +O we who find sin's billows wild and rough, +Do we not feel how more than any gold +Would be the blameless life we led of old +While yet our lips knew but a mother's kiss? + Ah! though we miss + All else but this, + To be good is enough! + +It is enough-- + Enough--just to be good! +To lift our hearts where they are understood; +To let the thirst for worldly power and place +Go unappeased; to smile back in God's face +With the glad lips our mothers used to kiss. + Ah! though we miss + All else but this, + To be good is enough! + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +MY FRIEND + + +"He is my friend," I said,-- +"Be patient!" Overhead +The skies were drear and dim; +And lo! the thought of him +Smiled on my heart--and then +The sun shone out again! + +"He is my friend!" The words +Brought summer and the birds; +And all my winter-time +Thawed into running rhyme +And rippled into song, +Warm, tender, brave and strong. + +And so it sings to-day.-- +So may it sing alway! +Though waving grasses grow +Between, and lilies blow +Their trills of perfume clear +As laughter to the ear, +Let each mute measure end +With "Still he is thy friend." + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +THINKIN' BACK + + +I've ben thinkin' back, of late, +S'prisin'!--And I'm here to state +I'm suspicious it's a sign +Of _age_, maybe, or decline +Of my faculties,--and yit +I'm not _feelin'_ old a bit-- +Any more than sixty-four +Ain't no _young_ man any more! + +Thinkin' back's a thing 'at grows +On a feller, I suppose-- +Older 'at he gits, i jack, +More he keeps a-thinkin' back! +Old as old men git to be, +Er as middle-aged as me, +Folks'll find us, eye and mind +Fixed on what we've left behind-- +Rehabilitatin'-like +Them old times we used to hike +Out barefooted fer the crick, +'Long 'bout _Aprile first_--to pick +Out some "warmest" place to go +In a-swimmin'--_Ooh! my-oh!_ +Wonder now we hadn't died! +Grate horseradish on my hide +Jes' _a-thinkin'_ how cold then +That-'ere worter must 'a' ben! + +Thinkin' back--W'y, goodness me! +I kin call their names and see +Every little tad I played +With, er fought, er was afraid +Of, and so made _him_ the best +Friend I had of all the rest! + +[Illustration] + +Thinkin' back, I even hear +Them a-callin', high and clear, +Up the crick-banks, where they seem +Still hid in there--like a dream-- +And me still a-pantin' on +The green pathway they have gone! +Still they hide, by bend er ford-- +Still they hide--but, thank the Lord, +(Thinkin' back, as I have said), +I hear laughin' on ahead! + +[Illustration] + + + + +NOT ALWAYS GLAD WHEN WE SMILE + + +We are not always glad when we smile: + Though we wear a fair face and are gay, + And the world we deceive + May not ever believe + We could laugh in a happier way.-- +Yet, down in the deeps of the soul, + Ofttimes, with our faces aglow, + There's an ache and a moan + That we know of alone, +And as only the hopeless may know. + +We are not always glad when we smile,-- + For the heart, in a tempest of pain, + May live in the guise + Of a smile in the eyes + As a rainbow may live in the rain; +And the stormiest night of our woe + May hang out a radiant star + Whose light in the sky + Of despair is a lie +As black as the thunder-clouds are. + +We are not always glad when we smile!-- + But the conscience is quick to record, + All the sorrow and sin + We are hiding within + Is plain in the sight of the Lord: +And ever, O ever, till pride + And evasion shall cease to defile + The sacred recess + Of the soul, we confess +We are not always glad when we smile. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +HIS ROOM + + +"I'm home again, my dear old Room, + I'm home again, and happy, too, +As, peering through the brightening gloom, + I find myself alone with you: + Though brief my stay, nor far away, + I missed you--missed you night and day-- + As wildly yearned for you as now.-- + Old Room, how are you, anyhow? + +"My easy chair, with open arms, + Awaits me just within the door; +The littered carpet's woven charms + Have never seemed so bright before,-- + The old rosettes and mignonettes + And ivy-leaves and violets, + Look up as pure and fresh of hue + As though baptized in morning dew. + +"Old Room, to me your homely walls + Fold round me like the arms of love, +And over all my being falls + A blessing pure as from above-- + Even as a nestling child caressed + And lulled upon a loving breast, + With folded eyes, too glad to weep + And yet too sad for dreams or sleep. + +"You've been so kind to me, old Room-- + So patient in your tender care, +My drooping heart in fullest bloom + Has blossomed for you unaware; + And who but you had cared to woo + A heart so dark, and heavy, too, + As in the past you lifted mine + From out the shadow to the shine? + +"For I was but a wayward boy + When first you gladly welcomed me +And taught me work was truer joy + Than rioting incessantly: + And thus the din that stormed within + The old guitar and violin + Has fallen in a fainter tone + And sweeter, for your sake alone. + +"Though in my absence I have stood + In festal halls a favored guest, +I missed, in this old quietude, + My worthy work and worthy rest-- + By _this_ I know that long ago + You loved me first, and told me so + In art's mute eloquence of speech + The voice of praise may never reach. + +"For lips and eyes in truth's disguise + Confuse the faces of my friends, +Till old affection's fondest ties + I find unraveling at the ends; + But as I turn to you, and learn + To meet my griefs with less concern, + Your love seems all I have to keep + Me smiling lest I needs must weep. + +"Yet I am happy, and would fain + Forget the world and all its woes; +So set me to my tasks again, + Old Room, and lull me to repose: + And as we glide adown the tide + Of dreams, forever side by side, + I'll hold your hands as lovers do + Their sweethearts' and talk love to you." + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +THE PLAINT HUMAN + + +Season of snows, and season of flowers, + Seasons of loss and gain!-- +Since grief and joy must alike be ours, + Why do we still complain? + +Ever our failing, from sun to sun, + O my intolerant brother-- +We want just a little too little of one, + And much too much of the other. + + + + +THE QUEST + + +I am looking for Love. Has he passed this way, +With eyes as blue as the skies of May, +And a face as fair as the summer dawn?-- +You answer back, but I wander on,-- +For you say: "Oh, yes; but his eyes were gray, +And his face as dim as a rainy day." + +Good friends, I query, I search for Love; +His eyes are as blue as the skies above, +And his smile as bright as the midst of May +When the truce-bird pipes: Has he passed this way? +And one says: "Ay; but his face, alack! +Frowned as he passed, and his eyes were black." + +O who will tell me of Love? I cry! +His eyes are as blue as the mid-May sky, +And his face as bright as the morning sun; +And you answer and mock me, every one, +That his eyes were dark, and his face was wan, +And he passed you frowning and wandered on. + +But stout of heart will I onward fare, +Knowing _my_ Love is beyond--somewhere,-- +The Love I seek, with the eyes of blue, +And the bright, sweet smile unknown of you; +And on from the hour his trail is found +I shall sing sonnets the whole year round. + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE MULBERRY TREE + + +It's many's the scenes which is dear to my mind +As I think of my childhood so long left behind; +The home of my birth, with it's old puncheon-floor, +And the bright morning-glories that growed round the door; +The warped clab-board roof whare the rain it run off +Into streams of sweet dreams as I laid in the loft, +Countin' all of the joys that was dearest to me, +And a-thinkin' the most of the mulberry tree. + +And to-day as I dream, with both eyes wide-awake, +I can see the old tree, and its limbs as they shake, +And the long purple berries that rained on the ground +Whare the pastur' was bald whare we trommpt it around. +And again, peekin' up through the thick leafy shade, +I can see the glad smiles of the friends when I strayed +With my little bare feet from my own mother's knee +To foller them off to the mulberry tree. + +[Illustration] + +Leanin' up in the forks, I can see the old rail, +And the boy climbin' up it, claw, tooth, and toe-nail, +And in fancy can hear, as he spits on his hands, +The ring of his laugh and the rip of his pants. +But that rail led to glory, as certin and shore +As I'll never climb thare by that rout' any more-- +What was all the green lauruls of Fame unto me, +With my brows in the boughs of the mulberry tree! + +Then it's who can fergit the old mulberry tree +That he knowed in the days when his thoughts was as free +As the flutterin' wings of the birds that flew out +Of the tall wavin' tops as the boys come about? +O, a crowd of my memories, laughin' and gay, +Is a-climbin' the fence of that pastur' to-day, +And, a-pantin' with joy, as us boys ust to be, +They go racin' acrost fer the mulberry tree. + + + + +[Illustration] + +FOR YOU + + +For you, I could forget the gay + Delirium of merriment, +And let my laughter die away + In endless silence of content. + I could forget, for your dear sake, + The utter emptiness and ache + Of every loss I ever knew.-- + What could I not forget for you? + +I could forget the just deserts + Of mine own sins, and so erase +The tear that burns, the smile that hurts, + And all that mars or masks my face. + For your fair sake I could forget + The bonds of life that chafe and fret, + Nor care if death were false or true.-- + What could I not forget for you? + +What could I not forget? Ah me! + One thing, I know, would still abide +Forever in my memory, + Though all of love were lost beside-- + I yet would feel how first the wine + Of your sweet lips made fools of mine + Until they sung, all drunken through-- + "What could I not forget for you?" + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +A FEEL IN THE CHRIS'MAS-AIR + + +They's a kind o' _feel_ in the air, to me. + When the Chris'mas-times sets in. +That's about as much of a mystery + As ever I've run ag'in!-- +Fer instunce, now, whilse I gain in weight + And gineral health, I swear +They's a _goneness_ somers I can't quite state-- + A kind o' _feel_ in the air. + +[Illustration] + +They's a feel in the Chris'mas-air goes right + To the spot where a man _lives_ at!-- +It gives a feller a' appetite-- + They ain't no doubt about _that_!-- +And yit they's _somepin_'--I don't know what-- + That follers me, here and there, +And ha'nts and worries and spares me not-- + A kind o' feel in the air! + +They's a _feel_, as I say, in the air that's jest + As blame-don sad as sweet!-- +In the same ra-sho as I feel the best + And am spryest on my feet, +They's allus a kind o' sort of a' _ache_ + That I can't lo-cate no-where;-- +But it comes with _Chris'mas_, and no mistake!-- + A kind o' feel in the air. + +Is it the racket the childern raise?-- + W'y, _no_!--God bless 'em!--_no_!-- +Is it the eyes and the cheeks ablaze-- + Like my _own_ wuz, long ago?-- +Is it the bleat o' the whistle and beat + O' the little toy-drum and blare +O' the horn?--_No! no!_--it is jest the sweet-- + The sad-sweet feel in the air. + + + + +[Illustration] + +AS CREATED + + +There's a space for good to bloom in + Every heart of man or woman,-- +And however wild or human, + Or however brimmed with gall, +Never heart may beat without it; +And the darkest heart to doubt it +Has something good about it + After all. + + + + +[Illustration] + +WHERE-AWAY + + +O the Lands of Where-Away! +Tell us--tell us--where are they? +Through the darkness and the dawn +We have journeyed on and on-- +From the cradle to the cross-- +From possession unto loss.-- +Seeking still, from day to day, +For the Lands of Where-Away. + +When our baby-feet were first +Planted where the daisies burst, +And the greenest grasses grew +In the fields we wandered through,-- +On, with childish discontent, +Ever on and on we went, +Hoping still to pass, some day, +O'er the verge of Where-Away. + +Roses laid their velvet lips +On our own, with fragrant sips; +But their kisses held us not, +All their sweetness we forgot;-- +Though the brambles in our track +Plucked at us to hold us back-- +"Just ahead," we used to say, +"Lie the Lands of Where-Away." + +Children at the pasture-bars, +Through the dusk, like glimmering stars, +Waved their hands that we should bide +With them over eventide; +Down the dark their voices failed +Falteringly, as they hailed, +And died into yesterday-- +Night ahead and--Where-Away? + +Twining arms about us thrown-- +Warm caresses, all our own, +Can but stay us for a spell-- +Love hath little new to tell +To the soul in need supreme, +Aching ever with the dream +Of the endless bliss it may +Find in Lands of Where-Away! + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +DREAMER, SAY + + +Dreamer, say, will you dream for me + A wild sweet dream of a foreign land, +Whose border sips of a foaming sea + With lips of coral and silver sand; +Where warm winds loll on the shady deeps, + Or lave themselves in the tearful mist +The great wild wave of the breaker weeps + O'er crags of opal and amethyst? + +Dreamer, say, will you dream a dream + Of tropic shades in the lands of shine, +Where the lily leans o'er an amber stream + That flows like a rill of wasted wine,-- +Where the palm-trees, lifting their shields of green, + Parry the shafts of the Indian sun +Whose splintering vengeance falls between + The reeds below where the waters run? + +Dreamer, say, will you dream of love + That lives in a land of sweet perfume, +Where the stars drip down from the skies above + In molten spatters of bud and bloom? +Where never the weary eyes are wet, + And never a sob in the balmy air, +And only the laugh of the paroquette + Breaks the sleep of the silence there? + +[Illustration] + + + + + +[Illustration] + +OUR OWN + + +They walk here with us, hand-in-hand; + We gossip, knee-by-knee; +They tell us all that they have planned-- + Of all their joys to be,-- +And, laughing, leave us: And, to-day, + All desolate we cry +Across wide waves of voiceless graves-- + Good-by! Good-by! Good-by! + + + + +THE OLD TRUNDLE-BED + + +O the old trundle-bed where I slept when a boy! +What canopied king might not covet the joy? +The glory and peace of that slumber of mine, +Like a long, gracious rest in the bosom divine: +The quaint, homely couch, hidden close from the light, +But daintily drawn from its hiding at night. +O a nest of delight, from the foot to the head, +Was the queer little, clear little, old trundle-bed! + +O the old trundle-bed, where I wondering saw +The stars through the window, and listened with awe +To the sigh of the winds as they tremblingly crept +Through the trees where the robin so restlessly slept: +Where I heard the low, murmurous chirp of the wren, +And the katydid listlessly chirrup again, +Till my fancies grew faint and were drowsily led +Through the maze of the dreams of the old trundle bed. + +[Illustration] + +O the old trundle-bed! O the old trundle-bed! +With its plump little pillow, and old-fashioned spread; +Its snowy-white sheets, and the blankets above, +Smoothed down and tucked round with the touches of love; +The voice of my mother to lull me to sleep +With the old fairy-stories my memories keep +Still fresh as the lilies that bloom o'er the head +Once bowed o'er my own in the old trundle-bed. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +WHO BIDES HIS TIME + + +Who bides his time, and day by day + Faces defeat full patiently, +And lifts a mirthful roundelay, + However poor his fortunes be,-- +He will not fail in any qualm + Of poverty--the paltry clime +It will grow golden in his palm, + Who bides his time. + +Who bides his time--he tastes the sweet + Of honey in the saltest tear; +And though he fares with slowest feet, + Joy runs to meet him, drawing near; +The birds are heralds of his cause; + And, like a never-ending rhyme, +The roadsides bloom in his applause, + Who bides his time. + +Who bides his time, and fevers not + In the hot race that none achieves, +Shall wear cool-wreathen laurel, wrought + With crimson berries in the leaves; +And he shall reign a goodly king, + And sway his hand o'er every clime, +With peace writ on his signet-ring, + Who bides his time. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +NATURAL PERVERSITIES + + +I am not prone to moralize + In scientific doubt +On certain facts that Nature tries + To puzzle us about,-- +For I am no philosopher + Of wise elucidation, +But speak of things as they occur, + From simple observation. + +I notice _little_ things--to wit:-- + I never missed a train +Because I didn't _run_ for it; + I never knew it rain +That my umbrella wasn't lent,-- + Or, when in my possession, +The sun but wore, to all intent, + A jocular expression. + +[Illustration] + +I never knew a creditor + To dun me for a debt +But I was "cramped" or "busted;" or + I never knew one yet, +When I had plenty in my purse, + To make the least invasion,-- +As I, accordingly perverse, + Have courted no occasion. + +Nor do I claim to comprehend + What Nature has in view +In giving us the very friend + To trust we oughtn't to.-- +But so it is: The trusty gun + Disastrously exploded +Is always sure to be the one + We didn't think was loaded. + +Our moaning is another's mirth,-- + And what is worse by half, +We say the funniest thing on earth + And never raise a laugh: +Mid friends that love us overwell, + And sparkling jests and liquor, +Our hearts somehow are liable + To melt in tears the quicker. + +We reach the wrong when most we seek + The right; in like effect, +We stay the strong and not the weak-- + Do most when we neglect.-- +Neglected genius--truth be said-- + As wild and quick as tinder, +The more we seek to help ahead + The more we seem to hinder. + +I've known the least the greatest, too-- + And, on the selfsame plan, +The biggest fool I ever knew + Was quite a little man: +We find we ought, and then we won't-- + We prove a thing, then doubt it,-- +Know _everything_ but when we don't + Know _anything_ about it. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +A SCRAWL + + +I want to sing something--but this is all-- + I try and I try, but the rhymes are dull +As though they were damp, and the echoes fall + Limp and unlovable. + +Words will not say what I yearn to say-- + They will not walk as I want them to, +But they stumble and fall in the path of the way + Of my telling my love for you. + +Simply take what the scrawl is worth-- + Knowing I love you as sun the sod +On the ripening side of the great round earth + That swings in the smile of God. + + + + +WRITIN' BACK TO THE HOME-FOLKS + + +My dear old friends--It jes beats all, + The way you write a letter +So's ever' _last_ line beats the _first_, + And ever' _next_-un's better!-- +W'y, ever' fool-thing you putt down + You make so inte_rest_in', +A feller, readin' of 'em all, + Can't tell which is the _best_-un. + +It's all so comfortin' and good, + 'Pears-like I almost _hear_ ye +And git more sociabler, you know, + And hitch my cheer up near ye +And jes smile on ye like the sun + Acrosst the whole per-rairies +In Aprile when the thaw's begun + And country couples marries. + +[Illustration] + +It's all so good-old-fashioned like + To _talk_ jes like we're _thinkin'_, +Without no hidin' back o' fans + And giggle-un and winkin', +Ner sizin' how each-other's dressed-- + Like some is allus doin',-- +"_Is_ Marthy Ellen's basque ben _turned_ + Er shore-enough a new-un!"-- + +Er "ef Steve's city-friend haint jes + 'A _lee_tle kindo'-sorto'"-- +Er "wears them-air blame eye-glasses + Jes 'cause he hadn't ort to?" +And so straight on, _dad-libitum_, + Tel all of us feels, _some_way, +Jes like our "comp'ny" wuz the best + When we git up to come 'way! + +That's why I like _old_ friends like you,-- + Jes 'cause you're so _abidin'_.-- +Ef I was built to live "_fer keeps_," + My principul residin' +Would be amongst the folks 'at kep' + Me allus _thinkin'_ of 'em, +And sorto' eechin' all the time + To tell 'em how I love 'em.-- + +Sich folks, you know, I jes love so + I wouldn't live without 'em, +Er couldn't even drap asleep + But what I _dreamp'_ about 'em,-- +And ef we minded God, I guess + We'd _all_ love one-another +Jes like one fam'bly,--me and Pap + And Madaline and Mother. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +LAUGHTER HOLDING BOTH HIS SIDES + + +Ay, thou varlet!--Laugh away! +All the world's a holiday! +Laugh away, and roar and shout +Till thy hoarse tongue lolleth out! +Bloat thy cheeks, and bulge thine eyes +Unto bursting; pelt thy thighs +With thy swollen palms, and roar +As thou never hast before! +Lustier! wilt thou! peal on peal! +Stiflest? Squat and grind thy heel-- +Wrestle with thy loins, and then +Wheeze thee whiles, and whoop again! + + + + +THE SONG OF YESTERDAY + + +I + +But yesterday +I looked away +O'er happy lands, where sunshine lay +In golden blots +Inlaid with spots +Of shade and wild forget-me-nots. + +My head was fair +With flaxen hair, +And fragrant breezes, faint and rare, +And warm with drouth +From out the south, +Blew all my curls across my mouth. + +And, cool and sweet, +My naked feet +Found dewy pathways through the wheat; +And out again +Where, down the lane, +The dust was dimpled with the rain. + +[Illustration] + + +II + +But yesterday:-- +Adream, astray, +From morning's red to evening's gray, +O'er dales and hills +Of daffodils +And lorn sweet-fluting whippoorwills. + +I knew nor cares +Nor tears nor prayers-- +A mortal god, crowned unawares +With sunset--and +A scepter-wand +Of apple-blossoms in my hand! + +The dewy blue +Of twilight grew +To purple, with a star or two +Whose lisping rays +Failed in the blaze +Of sudden fireflies through the haze. + + +III + +But yesterday +I heard the lay +Of summer birds, when I, as they +With breast and wing, +All quivering +With life and love, could only sing. + +My head was lent +Where, with it, blent +A maiden's o'er her instrument; +While all the night, +From vale to height, +Was filled with echoes of delight. + +And all our dreams +Were lit with gleams +Of that lost land of reedy streams. +Along whose brim +Forever swim +Pan's lilies, laughing up at him. + +[Illustration] + + +IV + +But yesterday!... +O blooms of May, +And summer roses--where-away? +O stars above; +And lips of love, +And all the honeyed sweets thereof!-- + +O lad and lass, +And orchard pass, +And briered lane, and daisied grass! +O gleam and gloom, +And woodland bloom, +And breezy breaths of all perfume!-- + +No more for me +Or mine shall be +Thy raptures--save in memory,-- +No more--no more-- +Till through the Door +Of Glory gleam the days of yore. + + + + +[Illustration] + +SONG OF PARTING + + +Say farewell, and let me go; + Shatter every vow! +All the future can bestow + Will be welcome now! + And if this fair hand I touch + I have worshipped overmuch, + It was my mistake--and so, + Say farewell, and let me go. + +Say farewell, and let me go: + Murmur no regret, +Stay your tear-drops ere they flow-- + Do not waste them yet! + They might pour as pours the rain, + And not wash away the pain: + I have tried them and I know.-- + Say farewell, and let me go. + +Say farewell, and let me go: + Think me not untrue-- +True as truth is, even so + I am true to you! + If the ghost of love may stay + Where my fond heart dies to-day, + I am with you alway--so, + Say farewell, and let me go. + +[Illustration] + + + + +OUR KIND OF A MAN + + +I + +The kind of a man for you and me! +He faces the world unflinchingly, +And smites, as long as the wrong resists, +With a knuckled faith and force like fists: +He lives the life he is preaching of, +And loves where most is the need of love; +His voice is clear to the deaf man's ears, +And his face sublime through the blind man's tears; +The light shines out where the clouds were dim, +And the widow's prayer goes up for him; +The latch is clicked at the hovel door +And the sick man sees the sun once more, +And out o'er the barren fields he sees +Springing blossoms and waving trees, +Feeling as only the dying may, +That God's own servant has come that way, +Smoothing the path as it still winds on +Through the Golden Gate where his loved have gone. + + +II + +The kind of a man for me and you! +However little of worth we do +He credits full, and abides in trust +That time will teach us how more is just. +He walks abroad, and he meets all kinds +Of querulous and uneasy minds, +And, sympathizing, he shares the pain +Of the doubts that rack us, heart and brain; +And, knowing this, as we grasp his hand, +We are surely coming to understand! +He looks on sin with pitying eyes-- +E'en as the Lord, since Paradise,-- +Else, should we read, "Though our sins should glow +As scarlet, they shall be white as snow"?-- +And, feeling still, with a grief half glad, +That the bad are as good as the good are bad, +He strikes straight out for the Right--and he +Is the kind of a man for you and me! + + + + +[Illustration] + +"HOW DID YOU REST, LAST NIGHT?" + + +"How did you rest, last night?"-- + I've heard my gran'pap say +Them words a thousand times--that's right-- + Jes them words thataway! +As punctchul-like as morning dast + To ever heave in sight +Gran'pap 'ud allus haf to ast-- + "How did you rest, last night?" + +[Illustration] + +Us young-uns used to grin, + At breakfast, on the sly, +And mock the wobble of his chin + And eyebrows belt so high +And kind: _"How did you rest, last night?"_ + We'd mumble and let on +Our voices trimbled, and our sight + Was dim, and hearin' gone. + + * * * * * + +Bad as I used to be, + All I'm a-wantin' is +As puore and ca'm a sleep fer me + And sweet a sleep as his! +And so I pray, on Jedgment Day + To wake, and with its light +See _his_ face dawn, and hear him say-- + "How did you rest, last night?" + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +OUT OF THE HITHERWHERE + + +Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon-- +The land that the Lord's love rests upon; +Where one may rely on the friends he meets, +And the smiles that greet him along the streets: +Where the mother that left you years ago +Will lift the hands that were folded so, +And put them about you, with all the love +And tenderness you are dreaming of. + +Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon-- +Where all of the friends of your youth have gone,-- +Where the old schoolmate that laughed with you, +Will laugh again as he used to do, +Running to meet you, with such a face +As lights like a moon the wondrous place +Where God is living, and glad to live, +Since He is the Master and may forgive. + +Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon!-- +Stay the hopes we are leaning on-- +You, Divine, with Your merciful eyes +Looking down from the far-away skies,-- +Smile upon us, and reach and take +Our worn souls Home for the old home's sake.-- +And so Amen,--for our all seems gone +Out of the hitherwhere into the Yon. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +JACK-IN-THE-BOX + +_(Grandfather, musing.)_ + + +In childish days! O memory, + You bring such curious things to me!-- +Laughs to the lip--tears to the eye, +In looking on the gifts that lie +Like broken playthings scattered o'er +Imagination's nursery floor! +Did these old hands once click the key +That let "Jack's" box-lid upward fly, +And that blear-eyed, fur-whiskered elf +Leap, as though frightened at himself, +And quiveringly lean and stare +At me, his jailer, laughing there? + +[Illustration] + +A child then! Now--I only know +They call me very old; and so +They will not let me have my way,-- +But uselessly I sit all day +Here by the chimney-jamb, and poke +The lazy fire, and smoke and smoke, +And watch the wreaths swoop up the flue, +And chuckle--ay, I often do-- +Seeing again, all vividly, +Jack-in-the-box leap, as in glee +To see how much he looks like me! + +... They talk. I can't hear what they say-- +But I am glad, clean through and through +Sometimes, in fancying that they +Are saying, "Sweet, that fancy strays +In age back to our childish days!" + +[Illustration] + + + +THE BOYS + + +Where are they?--the friends of my childhood enchanted-- +The clear, laughing eyes looking back in my own, +And the warm, chubby fingers my palms have so wanted, + As when we raced over + Pink pastures of clover, +And mocked the quail's whir and the bumblebee's drone? + +Have the breezes of time blown their blossomy faces + Forever adrift down the years that are flown? +Am I never to see them romp back to their places, + Where over the meadow, + In sunshine and shadow, +The meadow-larks trill, and the bumblebees drone? + +Where are they? Ah! dim in the dust lies the clover; + The whippoorwill's call has a sorrowful tone, +And the dove's--I have wept at it over and over;-- + I want the glad luster + Of youth, and the cluster +Of faces asleep where the bumblebees drone! + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +IT'S _GOT_ TO BE + + +"When it's _got_ to be,"--like! always say, + As I notice the years whiz past, +And know each day is a yesterday, + When we size it up, at last,-- +Same as I said when my _boyhood_ went + And I knowed _we_ had to quit,-- +"It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be!"-- + So I said "Good-by" to _it_. + +It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be! + So at least I always try +To kind o' say in a hearty way,-- + "Well, it's _got_ to be. Good-by!" + +The time jes melts like a late, last snow,-- + When it's _got_ to be, it melts! +But I aim to keep a cheerful mind, + Ef I can't keep nothin' else! +I knowed, when I come to twenty-one, + That I'd soon be twenty-two,-- +So I waved one hand at the soft young man, + And I said, "Good-by to _you_!" + +It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be! + So at least I always try +To kind o' say, in a cheerful way,-- + "Well, it's _got_ to be.--Good-by!" + +They kep' a-goin', the years and years, + Yet still I smiled and smiled,-- +For I'd said "Good-by" to my single life, + And I now had a wife and child: +Mother and son and the father--one,-- + Till, last, on her bed of pain, +She jes' smiled up, like she always done,-- + And I said "Good-by" again. + +It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be! + So at least I always try +To kind o' say, in a humble way,-- + "Well, it's _got_ to be. Good-by!" + +[Illustration] + +And then my boy--as he growed to be + Almost a man in size,-- +Was more than a pride and joy to me, + With his mother's smilin' eyes.-- +He gimme the slip, when the War broke out, + And followed me. And I +Never knowed till the first right's end ... + I found him, and then, ... "Good-by." + +It's _got_ to be, and it's _goin'_ to be! + So at least I always try +To kind o' say, in a patient way, + "Well, it's _got_ to be. Good-by!" + +I have said, "Good-by!--Good-by!--Good-by!" + With my very best good will, +All through life from the first,--and I + Am a cheerful old man still: + +But it's _got_ to end, and it's _goin'_ to end! + And this is the thing I'll do,-- +With my last breath I will laugh, O Death, + And say "Good-by" to _you_!... + +It's _got_ to be! And again I say,-- + When his old scythe circles high, +I'll laugh--of course, in the kindest way,-- + As I say "Good-by!--Good-by!" + + + + + +[Illustration] + +"OUT OF REACH?" + + +You think them "out of reach," your dead? + Nay, by my own dead, I deny +Your "out of reach."--Be comforted: + 'Tis not so far to die. + +O by their dear remembered smiles + And outheld hands and welcoming speech, +They wait for us, thousands of miles + This side of "out-of-reach." + + + + +[Illustration] + +"A BRAVE REFRAIN" + + +When snow is here, and the trees look weird, + And the knuckled twigs are gloved with frost; +When the breath congeals in the drover's beard, + And the old pathway to the barn is lost; +When the rooster's crow is sad to hear, + And the stamp of the stabled horse is vain, +And the tone of the cow-bell grieves the ear-- + O then is the time for a brave refrain! + +When the gears hang stiff on the harness-peg, + And the tallow gleams in frozen streaks; +And the old hen stands on a lonesome leg, + And the pump sounds hoarse and the handle squeaks; +When the woodpile lies in a shrouded heap, + And the frost is scratched from the window-pane +And anxious eyes from the inside peep-- + O then is the time for a brave refrain! + +When the ax-helve warms at the chimney-jamb, + And hob-nailed shoes on the hearth below, +And the house-cat curls in a slumber calm, + And the eight-day clock ticks loud and slow; +When the harsh broom-handle jabs the ceil + 'Neath the kitchen-loft, and the drowsy brain +Sniffs the breath of the morning meal-- + O then is the time for a brave refrain! + + +ENVOI + +When the skillet seethes, and a blubbering hot +Tilts the lid of the coffee-pot, +And the scent of the buckwheat cake grows plain-- +O then is the time for a brave refrain! + + + + +[Illustration] + +IN THE EVENING + + +I + +In the evening of our days, + When the first far stars above +Glimmer dimmer, through the haze, + Than the dewy eyes of love, +Shall we mournfully revert + To the vanished morns and Mays +Of our youth, with hearts that hurt,-- + In the evening of our days? + + +II + +Shall the hand that holds your own + Till the twain are thrilled as now, +Be withheld, or colder grown? + Shall my kiss upon your brow +Falter from its high estate? + And, in all forgetful ways, +Shall we sit apart and wait-- + In the evening of our days? + + +III + +Nay, my wife--my life!--the gloom + Shall enfold us velvetwise, +And my smile shall be the groom + Of the gladness of your eyes: +Gently, gently as the dew + Mingles with the darkening maze, +I shall fall asleep with you-- + In the evening of our days. + + + + +[Illustration] + +JIM + + +He was jes a plain, ever'-day, all-round kind of a jour., + Consumpted-lookin'--but la! +The jokiest, wittiest, story-tellin', song-singin', laughin'est, jolliest + Feller you ever saw! +Worked at jes coarse work, but you kin bet he was fine enough in his talk, + And his feelin's, too! +Lordy! ef he was on'y back on his bench ag'in to-day, a-carryin' on + Like he ust to do! + +Any shop-mate'll tell you there never was, on top o' dirt, + A better feller'n Jim! +You want a favor, and couldn't git it anywheres else-- + You could git it o' him! +Most free-heartedest man thataway in the world, I guess! + Give up ever' nickel he's worth-- +And, ef you'd a-wanted it, and named it to him, and it was his, + He'd a-give you the earth! + +Allus a-reachin' out, Jim was, and a-he'ppin' some + Pore feller onto his feet-- +He'd a-never a-keered how hungry he was hisse'f, + So's _the feller_ got somepin' to eat! +Didn't make no differ'nee at all to him how _he_ was dressed, + He ust to say to me,-- +"You togg out a tramp purty comfortable in winter-time, a-huntin' a job, + And he'll git along!" says he. + +[Illustration] + +Jim didn't have, ner never could git ahead, so overly much + O' this world's goods at a time.-- +'Fore now I've saw him, more'n one't, lend a dollar, and haf to, more'n like, + Turn round and borry a dime! +Mebby laugh and joke about it hisse'f fer a while--then jerk his coat. + And kindo' square his chin, +Tie on his apern, and squat hisse'f on his old shoe-bench, + And go to peggin' ag'in! + +Patientest feller, too, I reckon, 'at ever jes natchurly + Coughed hisse'f to death! +Long enough after his voice was lost he'd laugh in a whisper and say + He could git ever'thing but his breath-- +"_You fellers_," he'd sorto' twinkle his eyes and say, + "Is a-pilin' onto me +A mighty big debt fer that-air little weak-chested ghost o' mine to pack + Through all Eternity!" + +Now there was a man 'at jes 'peared-like, to me, + 'At ortn't _a-never_ a-died! +"But death hain't a-showin' no favors," the old boss said-- + "On'y to _Jim_!" and cried: +And Wigger, who puts up the best sewed-work in the shop-- + Er the whole blame neighborhood,-- +He says, "When God made Jim, I bet you He didn't do anything else that day + But jes set around and feel good!" + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +THE BEST IS GOOD ENOUGH + + +I quarrel not with Destiny, +But make the best of everything-- +The best is good enough for me. + +Leave Discontent alone, and she +Will shut her month and let _you_ sing. +I quarrel not with Destiny. + +I take some things, or let 'em be-- +Good gold has always got the ring; +The best is good enough for me. + +Since Fate insists on secrecy, +I have no arguments to bring-- +quarrel not with Destiny. + +The fellow that goes "haw" for "gee" +Will find he hasn't got full swing. +The best is good enough for me. + +One only knows our needs, and He +Does all of the distributing. +I quarrel not with Destiny; +The best is good enough for me. + +[Illustration] + + + + +HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB + + +How slight a thing may set one's fancy drifting + Upon the dead sea of the Past!--A view-- +Sometimes an odor--or a rooster lifting + A far-off "_Ooh! ooh-ooh!_" + +And suddenly we find ourselves astray + In some wood's-pasture of the Long Ago-- +Or idly dream again upon a day + Of rest we used to know. + +I bit an apple but a moment since-- + A wilted apple that the worm had spurned.-- +Yet hidden in the taste were happy hints + Of good old days returned.-- + +And so my heart, like some enraptured lute, + Tinkles a tune so tender and complete, +God's blessing must be resting on the fruit-- + So bitter, yet so sweet! + + + + +AS MY UNCLE USED TO SAY + + +I've thought a power on men and things, + As my uncle ust to say,-- +And ef folks don't work as they pray, i jings! + W'y, they ain't no use to pray! +Ef you want somepin', and jes dead-set +A-pleadin' fer it with both eyes wet, +And _tears_ won't bring it, w'y, you try _sweat_, + As my uncle ust to say. + +They's some don't know their A, B, C's, + As my uncle ust to say, +And yit don't waste no candle-grease, + Ner whistle their lives away! +But ef they can't write no book, ner rhyme +No singin' song fer to last all time, +They can blaze the way fer the march sublime, + As my uncle ust to say. + +[Illustration] + +Whoever's Foreman of all things here, + As my uncle ust to say, +He knows each job 'at we're best fit fer, + And our round-up, night and day: +And a-sizin' _His_ work, east and west, +And north and south, and worst and best. +I ain't got nothin' to suggest, + As my uncle ust to say. + +[Illustration] + + + + +WE MUST BELIEVE + +_"Lord, I believe: help Thou mine unbelief."_ + + +We must believe-- +Being from birth endowed with love and trust-- +Born unto loving;--and how simply just +That love--that faith!--even in the blossom-face +The babe drops dreamward in its resting-place, +Intuitively conscious of the sure +Awakening to rapture ever pure +And sweet and saintly as the mother's own, +Or the awed father's, as his arms are thrown +O'er wife and child, to round about them weave + And wind and bind them as one harvest-sheaf +Of love--to cleave to, and _forever_ cleave.... + Lord, I believe: + Help Thou mine unbelief. + +We must believe-- +Impelled since infancy to seek some clear +Fulfillment, still withheld all seekers here;-- +For never have we seen perfection nor +The glory we are ever seeking for: +But we _have_ seen--all mortal souls as one-- +Have seen its _promise_, in the morning sun-- +Its blest assurance, in the stars of night;-- +The ever-dawning of the dark to light;-- +The tears down-falling from all eyes that grieve-- + The eyes uplifting from all deeps of grief, +Yearning for what at last we shall receive.... + Lord, I believe: + Help Thou mine unbelief. + +We must believe-- +For still all unappeased our hunger goes, +From life's first waking, to its last repose: +The briefest life of any babe, or man +Outwearing even the allotted span, +Is each a life unfinished--incomplete: +For these, then, of th' outworn, or unworn feet +Denied one toddling step--O there must be +Some fair, green, flowery pathway endlessly +Winding through lands Elysian! Lord, receive + And lead each as Thine Own Child--even the Chief +Of us who didst Immortal life achieve.... + Lord, I believe: + Help Thou mine unbelief. + + + + +A GOOD MAN + + +I + +A good man never dies-- + In worthy deed and prayer +And helpful hands, and honest eyes, + If smiles or tears be there: +Who lives for you and me-- + Lives for the world he tries +To help--he lives eternally. + A good man never dies. + + +II + +Who lives to bravely take + His share of toil and stress, +And, for his weaker fellows' sake, + Makes every burden less,-- +He may, at last, seem worn-- + Lie fallen--hands and eyes +Folded--yet, though we mourn and mourn, + A good man never dies. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +THE OLD DAYS + + +The old days--the far days-- + The overdear and fair!-- +The old days--the lost days-- + How lovely they were! +The old days of Morning, + With the dew-drench on the flowers +And apple-buds and blossoms + Of those old days of ours. + +Then was the _real_ gold + Spendthrift Summer flung; +Then was the _real_ song + Bird or Poet sung! +There was never censure then,-- + Only honest praise-- +And all things were worthy of it + In the old days. + +There bide the true friends-- + The first and the best; +There clings the green grass + Close where they rest: +Would they were here? No;-- + Would _we_ were _there_!... +The old days--the lost days-- + How lovely they were! + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +A SPRING SONG AND A LATER + + +She sang a song of May for me, + Wherein once more I heard +The mirth of my glad infancy-- + The orchard's earliest bird-- +The joyous breeze among the trees + New-clad in leaf and bloom, +And there the happy honey-bees + In dewy gleam and gloom. + +So purely, sweetly on the sense + Of heart and spirit fell +Her song of Spring, its influence-- + Still irresistible,-- +Commands me here--with eyes ablur-- + To mate her bright refrain. +Though I but shed a rhyme for her + As dim as Autumn rain. + + + + +KNEELING WITH HERRICK + + +Dear Lord, to Thee my knee is bent-- + Give me content-- +Full-pleasured with what comes to me, + Whate'er it be: +An humble roof--a frugal board, + And simple hoard; +The wintry fagot piled beside + The chimney wide, +While the enwreathing flames up-sprout + And twine about +The brazen dogs that guard my hearth + And household worth: +Tinge with the ember's ruddy glow + The rafters low; +And let the sparks snap with delight, + As fingers might +That mark deft measures of some tune + The children croon: +Then, with good friends, the rarest few + Thou boldest true, +Ranged round about the blaze, to share + My comfort there,-- +Give me to claim the service meet + That makes each seat +A place of honor, and each guest + Loved as the rest. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +THE RAINY MORNING + + +The dawn of the day was dreary, + And the lowering clouds o'erhead +Wept in a silent sorrow + Where the sweet sunshine lay dead; +And a wind came out of the eastward + Like an endless sigh of pain, +And the leaves fell down in the pathway + And writhed in the falling rain. + +I had tried in a brave endeavor + To chord my harp with the sun, +But the strings would slacken ever, + And the task was a weary one: +And so, like a child impatient + And sick of a discontent, +I bowed in a shower of teardrops + And mourned with the instrument. + +And lo! as I bowed, the splendor + Of the sun bent over me, +With a touch as warm and tender + As a father's hand might be: +And even as I felt its presence, + My clouded soul grew bright, +And the tears, like the rain of morning, + Melted in mists of light. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +REACH YOUR HAND TO ME + + +Reach your hand to me, my friend, + With its heartiest caress-- +Sometime there will come an end + To its present faithfulness-- + Sometime I may ask in vain + For the touch of it again, + When between us land or sea + Holds it ever back from me. + +Sometime I may need it so, + Groping somewhere in the night, +It will seem to me as though + Just a touch, however light, + Would make all the darkness day, + And along some sunny way + Lead me through an April-shower + Of my tears to this fair hour. + +O the present is too sweet + To go on forever thus! +Round the corner of the street + Who can say what waits for us?-- + Meeting--greeting, night and day, + Faring each the selfsame way-- + Still somewhere the path must end.-- + Reach your hand to me, my friend! + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +TO MY OLD FRIEND, WILLIAM LEACHMAN + + +Fer forty year and better you have been a friend to me, +Through days of sore afflictions and dire adversity, +You allus had a kind word of counsul to impart, +Which was like a healin' 'intment to the sorrow of my hart. + +When I burried my first womern, William Leachman, it was you +Had the only consolation that I could listen to-- +Fer I knowed you had gone through it and had rallied from the blow, +And when you said I'd do the same, I knowed you'd ort to know. + +But that time I'll long remember; how I wundered here and thare-- +Through the settin'-room and kitchen, and out in the open air-- +And the snowflakes whirlin', whirlin', and the fields a frozen glare, +And the neghbors' sleds and wagons congergatin' ev'rywhare. + +I turned my eyes to'rds heaven, but the sun was hid away; +I turned my eyes to'rds earth again, but all was cold and gray; +And the clock, like ice a-crackin', clickt the icy hours in two-- +And my eyes'd never thawed out ef it hadn't been fer you! + +We set thare by the smoke-house--me and you out thare alone-- +Me a-thinkin'--you a-talkin' in a soothin' undertone-- +You a-talkin'--me a-thinkin' of the summers long ago, +And a-writin' "Marthy--Marthy" with my finger in the snow! + +[Illustration] + +William Leachman, I can see you jest as plane as I could then; +And your hand is on my shoulder, and you rouse me up again, +And I see the tears a-drippin' from your own eyes, as you say: +"Be rickonciled and bear it--we but linger fer a day!" + +At the last Old Settlers' Meetin' we went j'intly, you and me-- +Your hosses and my wagon, as you wanted it to be; +And sence I can remember, from the time we've neghbored here, +In all sich friendly actions you have double-done your sheer. + +It was better than the meetin', too, that nine-mile talk we had +Of the times when we first settled here and travel was so bad; +When we had to go on hoss-back, and sometimes on "Shanks's mare," +And "blaze" a road fer them behind that had to travel thare. + +And now we was a-trottin' 'long a level gravel pike, +In a big two-hoss road-wagon, jest as easy as you like-- +Two of us on the front seat, and our wimmern-folks behind, +A-settin' in theyr Winsor-cheers in perfect peace of mind! + +And we pinted out old landmarks, nearly faded out of sight:-- +Thare they ust to rob the stage-coach; thare Gash Morgan had the fight +With the old stag-deer that pronged him--how he battled fer his life, +And lived to prove the story by the handle of his knife. + +Thare the first griss-mill was put up in the Settlement, and we +Had tuck our grindin' to it in the Fall of Forty-three-- +When we tuck our rifles with us, techin' elbows all the way, +And a-stickin' right together ev'ry minute, night and day. + +[Illustration] + +Thare ust to stand the tavern that they called the "Travelers' Rest," +And thare, beyent the covered bridge, "The Counter-fitters' Nest"-- +Whare they claimed the house was ha'nted--that a man was murdered thare, +And burried underneath the floor, er 'round the place somewhare. + +And the old Plank-road they laid along in Fifty-one er two-- +You know we talked about the times when that old road was new: +How "Uncle Sam" put down that road and never taxed the State +Was a problem, don't you rickollect, we couldn't _dim_-onstrate? + +Ways was devius, William Leachman, that me and you has past; +But as I found you true at first, I find you true at last; +And, now the time's a-comin' mighty nigh our jurney's end, +I want to throw wide open all my soul to you, my friend. + +With the stren'th of all my bein', and the heat of hart and brane, +And ev'ry livin' drop of blood in artery and vane, +I love you and respect you, and I venerate your name, +Fer the name of William Leachman and True Manhood's jest the same! + +[Illustration] + + + + +A BACKWARD LOOK + + +As I sat smoking, alone, yesterday, + And lazily leaning back in my chair, +Enjoying myself in a general way-- +Allowing my thoughts a holiday + From weariness, toil and care,-- +My fancies--doubtless, for ventilation-- + Left ajar the gates of my mind,-- +And Memory, seeing the situation, + Slipped out in street of "Auld Lang Syne." + +Wandering ever with tireless feet + Through scenes of silence, and jubilee +Of long-hushed voices; and faces sweet +Were thronging the shadowy side of the street + As far as the eye could see; +Dreaming again, in anticipation, + The same old dreams of our boyhood's days +That never come true, from the vague sensation + Of walking asleep in the world's strange ways. + +Away to the house where I was born! + And there was the selfsame clock that ticked +From the close of dusk to the burst of morn, +When life-warm hands plucked the golden corn + And helped when the apples were picked. +And the "chany-dog" on the mantel-shelf, + With the gilded collar and yellow eyes, +Looked just as at first, when I hugged myself + Sound asleep with the dear surprise. + +And down to the swing in the locust tree, + Where the grass was worn from the trampled ground +And where "Eck" Skinner, "Old" Carr, and three +Or four such other boys used to be + Doin' "sky-scrapers," or "whirlin' round:" +And again Bob climbed for the bluebird's nest, + And again "had shows" in the buggy-shed +Of Guymon's barn, where still, unguessed, + The old ghosts romp through the best days dead! + +And again I gazed from the old school-room + With a wistful look of a long June day, +When on my cheek was the hectic bloom +Caught of Mischief, as I presume-- + He had such a "partial" way, +It seemed, toward me.--And again I thought + Of a probable likelihood to be +Kept in after school--for a girl was caught + Catching a note from me. + +[Illustration] + +And down through the woods to the swimming-hole-- + Where the big, white, hollow, old sycamore grows,-- +And we never cared when the water was cold. +And always "clucked" the boy that told + On the fellow that tied the clothes.-- +When life went so like a dreamy rhyme + That it seems to me now that then +The world was having a jollier time + Than it ever will have again. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +AT SEA + + +O we go down to sea in ships-- + But Hope remains behind, +And Love, with laughter on his lips, + And Peace, of passive mind; +While out across the deeps of night, + With lifted sails of prayer, +We voyage off in quest of light, + Nor find it anywhere. + +O Thou who wroughtest earth and sea, + Yet keepest from our eyes +The shores of an eternity + In calms of Paradise, +Blow back upon our foolish quest + With all the driving rain +Of blinding tears and wild unrest, + And waft us home again. + + + + +[Illustration] + +THE OLD GUITAR + + +Neglected now is the old guitar + And moldering into decay; +Fretted with many a rift and scar + That the dull dust hides away, +While the spider spins a silver star + In its silent lips to-day. + +The keys hold only nerveless strings-- + The sinews of brave old airs +Are pulseless now; and the scarf that clings + So closely here declares +A sad regret in its ravelings + And the faded hue it wears. + +But the old guitar, with a lenient grace, + Has cherished a smile for me; +And its features hint of a fairer face + That comes with a memory +Of a flower-and-perfume-haunted place + And a moonlit balcony. + +Music sweeter than words confess + Or the minstrel's powers invent, +Thrilled here once at the light caress + Of the fairy hands that lent +This excuse for the kiss I press + On the dear old instrument. + +The rose of pearl with the jeweled stem + Still blooms; and the tiny sets +In the circle all are here; the gem + In the keys, and the silver frets; +But the dainty fingers that danced o'er them-- + Alas for the heart's regrets!-- + +Alas for the loosened strings to-day, + And the wounds of rift and scar +On a worn old heart, with its roundelay + Enthralled with a stronger bar +That Fate weaves on, through a dull decay + Like that of the old guitar! + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +JOHN McKEEN + + +John McKeen, in his rusty dress, + His loosened collar, and swarthy throat; +His face unshaven, and none the less, +His hearty laugh and his wholesomeness, + And the wealth of a workman's vote! + +Bring him, O Memory, here once more, + And tilt him back in his Windsor chair +By the kitchen-stove, when the day is o'er +And the light of the hearth is across the floor, + And the crickets everywhere! + +And let their voices be gladly blent + With a watery jingle of pans and spoons, +And a motherly chirrup of sweet content, +And neighborly gossip and merriment, + And old-time fiddle-tunes! + +Tick the clock with a wooden sound, + And fill the hearing with childish glee +Of rhyming riddle, or story found +In the Robinson Crusoe, leather-bound + Old book of the Used-to-be! + +John McKeen of the Past! Ah, John, + To have grown ambitious in worldly ways!-- +To have rolled your shirt-sleeves down, to don +A broadcloth suit, and, forgetful, gone + Out on election days! + +John, ah, John! did it prove your worth + To yield you the office you still maintain? +To fill your pockets, but leave the dearth +Of all the happier things on earth + To the hunger of heart and brain? + +[Illustration] + +Under the dusk of your villa trees, + Edging the drives where your blooded span +Paw the pebbles and wait your ease,-- +Where are the children about your knees, + And the mirth, and the happy man? + +The blinds of your mansion are battened to; + Your faded wife is a close recluse; +And your "finished" daughters will doubtless do +Dutifully all that is willed of you, + And marry as you shall choose!-- + +But O for the old-home voices, blent + With the watery jingle of pans and spoons, +And the motherly chirrup of glad content, +And neighborly gossip and merriment, + And the old-time fiddle-tunes! + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +THROUGH SLEEPY-LAND + + +Where do you go when you go to sleep, + Little Boy! Little Boy! where? +'Way--'way in where's Little Bo-Peep, +And Little Boy Blue, and the Cows and Sheep + A-wandering 'way in there;--in there-- + A-wandering 'way in there! + +And what do you see when lost in dreams, + Little Boy, 'way in there? +Firefly-glimmers and glowworm-gleams, +And silvery, low, slow-sliding streams, + And mermaids, smiling out--'way in where + They're a-hiding--'way in there! + +Where do you go when the Fairies call, + Little Boy! Little Boy! where? +Wade through the clews of the grasses tall, +Hearing the weir and the waterfall + And the Wee Folk--'way in there--in there-- + And the Kelpies--'way in there! + +And what do you do when you wake at dawn, + Little Boy! Little Boy! what? +Hug my Mommy and kiss her on +Her smiling eyelids, sweet and wan, + And tell her everything I've forgot + About, a-wandering 'way in there-- + Through the blind-world 'way in there! + +[Illustration] + + + + +"THEM OLD CHEERY WORDS" + + +Pap he allus ust to say, + "Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!" +Liked to hear him that-a-way, + In his old split-bottomed cheer +By the fireplace here at night-- +Wood all in,--and room all bright, +Warm and snug, and folks all here: +"Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!" + +Me and 'Lize, and Warr'n and Jess + And Eldory home fer two +Weeks' vacation; and, I guess, + Old folks tickled through and through, +Same as _we_ was,--"Home onc't more +Fer another Chris'mus--shore!" +Pap 'u'd say, and tilt his cheer,-- +"Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!" + +Mostly Pap was ap' to be + Ser'ous in his "daily walk," +As he called it; giner'ly + Was no hand to joke er talk. +Fac's is, Pap had never be'n +Rugged-like at all--and then +Three years in the army had +Hepped to break him purty bad. + +[Illustration] + +Never _flinched_! but frost and snow + Hurt his wownd in winter. But +You bet _Mother_ knowed it, though!-- + Watched his feet, and made him putt +On his flannen; and his knee, +Where it never healed up, he +Claimed was "well now--mighty near-- +Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!" + +"Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!" + Pap 'u'd say, and snap his eyes ... +Row o' apples sputter'n' here + Round the hearth, and me and 'Lize +Crackin' hicker'-nuts; and Warr'n +And Eldory parchin' corn; +And whole raft o' young folks here. +"Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!" + +Mother tuk most comfort in + Jest a-heppin' Pap: She'd fill +His pipe fer him, er his tin + O' hard cider; er set still +And read fer him out the pile +O' newspapers putt on file +Whilse he was with Sherman--(She +Knowed the whole war-history!) + +Sometimes he'd git het up some.-- + "Boys," he'd say, "and you girls, too, +Chris'mus is about to come; + So, as you've a right to do, +_Celebrate_ it! Lots has died, +Same as Him they crucified, +That you might be happy here. +Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!" + +Missed his voice last Chris'mus--missed + Them old cheery words, you know. +Mother belt up tel she kissed + All of us--then had to go +And break down! And I laughs: "Here! +'Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!" +"Them's his very words," sobbed she, +"When he asked to marry me." + +"Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!" + "Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!" +Over, over, still I hear, + "Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!" +Yit, like him, I'm goin' to smile +And keep cheerful all the while: +_Allus_ Chris'mus _There_--And here +"Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!" + + + + +[Illustration] + +TO THE JUDGE + +_A Voice From the Interior of Old Hoop-Pole Township_ + + +Friend of my earliest youth, + Can't you arrange to come down +And visit a fellow out here in the woods-- + Out of the dust of the town? +Can't you forget you're a Judge + And put by your dolorous frown +And tan your wan face in the smile of a friend-- + Can't you arrange to come down? + +Can't you forget for a while + The arguments prosy and drear,-- +To lean at full-length in indefinite rest + In the lap of the greenery here? +Can't you kick over "the Bench," + And "husk" yourself out of your gown +To dangle your legs where the fishing is good-- + Can't you arrange to come down? + +Bah! for your office of State! + And bah! for its technical lore! +What does our President, high in his chair, + But wish himself low as before! +Pick between peasant and king,-- + Poke your bald head through a crown +Or shadow it here with the laurels of Spring!-- + Can't you arrange to come down? + +"Judge it" out _here_, if you will,-- + The birds are in session by dawn; +You can draw, not _complaints_, but a sketch of the hill + And a breath that your betters have drawn; +You can open your heart, like a case, + To a jury of kine, white and brown, +And their verdict of "Moo" will just satisfy you!-- + Can't you arrange to come down? + +[Illustration] + +Can't you arrange it, old Pard?-- + Pigeonhole Blackstone and Kent!-- +Here we have "Breitmann," and Ward, + Twain, Burdette, Nye, and content! +Can't you forget you're a Judge + And put by your dolorous frown +And tan your wan face in the smile of a friend-- + Can't you arrange to come down? + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +OUR BOYHOOD HAUNTS + + +Ho! I'm going back to where +We were youngsters.--Meet me there, +Dear old barefoot chum, and we +Will be as we used to be,-- +Lawless rangers up and down +The old creek beyond the town-- +Little sunburnt gods at play, +Just as in that far-away:-- +Water nymphs, all unafraid, +Shall smile at us from the brink +Of the old millrace and wade +Tow'rd us as we kneeling drink +At the spring our boyhood knew, +Pure and clear as morning-dew: + +And, as we are rising there, +Doubly dow'rd to hear and see, +We shall thus be made aware +Of an eerie piping, heard +High above the happy bird +In the hazel: And then we, +Just across the creek, shall see +(Hah! the goaty rascal!) Pan +Hoof it o'er the sloping green, +Mad with his own melody, +Aye, and (bless the beasty man!) +Stamping from the grassy soil +Bruised scents of _fleur-de-lis_, +Boneset, mint and pennyroyal. + +[Illustration] + + + + +MY DANCIN'-DAYS IS OVER + + +What is it in old fiddle-chunes 'at makes me ketch my breath +And ripples up my backbone tel I'm tickled most to death?-- + Kindo' like that sweet-sick feelin', in the long sweep of a swing, + The first you ever swung in, with yer first sweet-heart, i jing!-- + Yer first picnic--yer first ice-cream--yer first o' _ever'thing_ + 'At happened 'fore yer dancin'-days wuz over! + +I never understood it--and I s'pose I never can,-- +But right in town here, yisterd'y, I heerd a pore blindman + A-fiddlin' old "Gray Eagle"--_And_-sir! I jes stopped my load + O' hay and listened at him--yes, and watched the way he "bow'd,"-- + And back I went, plum forty year', with boys and girls I knowed + And loved, long 'fore my dancin'-days wuz over!-- + +[Illustration] + +At high noon in yer city,--with yer blame Magnetic-Cars +A-hummin' and a-screetchin' past--and bands and G.A.R.'s + A-marchin'--and fire-ingines.--_All_ the noise, the whole street through, + Wuz lost on me!--I only heerd a whipperwill er two, + It 'peared-like, kindo' callin' 'crost the darkness and the dew, + Them nights afore my dancin'-days wuz over. + +T'uz Chused'y-night at Wetherell's, er We'nsd'y-night at Strawn's, +Er Fourth-o'-July-night at uther Tomps's house er John's!-- + With old Lew Church from Sugar Crick, with that old fiddle he + Had sawed clean through the Army, from Atlanty to the sea-- + And yit he'd fetched, her home ag'in, so's he could play fer me + One't more afore my dancin'-days wuz over! + +The woods 'at's all ben cut away wuz growin' same as then; +The youngsters all wuz boys ag'in 'at's now all oldish men; + And all the girls 'at _then_ wuz girls--I saw 'em, one and all, + As _plain_ as then--the middle-sized, the short-and-fat, and tall-- + And, 'peared-like, I danced "Tucker" fer 'em up and down the wall + Jes like afore my dancin' days wuz over! + + * * * * * + +Yer _po_-leece they can holler "Say! _you_, Uncle! drive ahead!-- +You can't use _all_ the right-o'-way!"--fer that wuz what they said!-- + But, jes the same,--in spite of all 'at you call "interprise + And prog-gress of _you_-folks Today," we're all of _fambly-ties_-- + We're all got feelin's fittin' fer the _tears_ 'at's in our eyes + Er the _smiles_ afore our dancin'-days is over. + + + + +HER BEAUTIFUL HANDS + + +O your hands--they are strangely fair! +Fair--for the jewels that sparkle there,-- +Fair--for the witchery of the spell +That ivory keys alone can tell; +But when their delicate touches rest +Here in my own do I love them best, +As I clasp with eager acquisitive spans +My glorious treasure of beautiful hands! + +Marvelous--wonderful--beautiful hands! +They can coax roses to bloom in the strands +Of your brown tresses; and ribbons will twine. +Under mysterious touches of thine, +Into such knots as entangle the soul, +And fetter the heart under such a control +As only the strength of my love understands-- +My passionate love for your beautiful hands. + +As I remember the first fair touch +Of those beautiful hands that I love so much, +I seem to thrill as I then was thrilled, +Kissing the glove that I found unfilled-- +When I met your gaze, and the queenly bow, +As you said to me, laughingly, "Keep it now!" +And dazed and alone in a dream I stand +Kissing this ghost of your beautiful hand. + +When first I loved, in the long ago, +And held your hand as I told you so-- +Pressed and caressed it and gave it a kiss, +And said "I could die for a hand like this!" +Little I dreamed love's fulness yet +Had to ripen when eyes were wet, +And prayers were vain in their wild demands +For one warm touch of your beautiful hands. + +Beautiful Hands! O Beautiful Hands! +Could you reach out of the alien lands +Where you are lingering, and give me, to-night, +Only a touch--were it ever so light-- +My heart were soothed, and my weary brain +Would lull itself into rest again; +For there is no solace the world commands +Like the caress of your beautiful hands. + +[Illustration] + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Riley Songs of Home, by James Whitcomb Riley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RILEY SONGS OF HOME *** + +***** This file should be named 16265.txt or 16265.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/2/6/16265/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Scott G. 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