Fer to work all winter, choppin’
Fer a’ old fire-place, like _I_ did!
Lawz! them old times wuz contrairy!–
Blame backbone o’ winter, ‘peared-like,
_Wouldn’t_ break!–and I wuz skeerd-like
Clean on into _Febuary_!
Nothin’ ever made we madder
Than fer Pap to stomp in, layin’
On a’ extra fore-stick, sayin’
‘Groun’hog’s out and seed his shadder!’
Similar Posts
‘They ain’t much ‘tale’ about it!’ Noey said.–
I rickollect; and Tubb Kingry and me‘Ud kindo’ browse round town, daytime, to seeWhat neighbers ‘peared to have the most to spare‘At wuz git-at-able and no dog thereWhen we come round to git ’em, say ’bout tenO’clock at night when mostly old folks thenWuz snorin’ at each other like they yitHelt some old grudge ‘at…
Grand Haven is in Michigan, and in possession, too,
The fine hotel, the landlord, and the lordly bill of fare,And the dainty-neat completeness of the pretty waiters there;The touch on the piano in the parlor, and the trillOf the exquisite soprano, in our fancy singing still;Our cozy room, its comfort, and our thousand grateful tho’ts,And at our door the gentle faceOfH.Y.Potts!His artless observations, and…
Knightly Rider of the Knee
Gaily mount, and wave the signOf that mastery of thine.Pat thy steed and turn him free,Knightly Rider of the Knee!Sit thy charger as a throne–Lash him with thy laugh alone:Sting him only with the spurOf such wit as may occur,Knightly Rider of the Knee,In thy shriek of ecstasy.Would, as now, we might endure,Twain as one–thou…
The frightened herds of clouds across the sky
Into the dusky forest-lands of grayAnd sombre twilight. Far and faint, and high,The wild goose trails his harrow, with a crySad as the wail of some poor castawayWho sees a vessel drifting far astrayOf his last hope, and lays him down to die.The children, riotous from school, grow boldAnd quarrel with the wind whose angry…
Ho! I’m going back to where
Dear old barefoot chum, and weWill be as we used to be,–Lawless rangers up and downThe 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 brinkOf the old millrace and wadeTow’rd us as we kneeling drinkAt the spring our boyhood knew,Pure and clear…
The touches of her hands are like the fall
The peach just brushes ‘gainst the garden wall;The flossy fondlings of the thistle-wispCaught in the crinkle of a leaf of brownThe blighting frost hath turned from green to crisp.Soft as the falling of the dusk at night,The touches of her hands, and the delight–The touches of her hands!The touches of her hands are like the…