Collier 9 Part 1

COLLIER "MEMORIAL EDITION"
"JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY COMPLETE WORKS"

Vol 9, Part 1

SYMPTOMS

I'M not a-workin' now !— I'm jes' a-layin' round A-lettin' other people plow.—I'm

cumberin' the ground! . .

I jes' don't keen—I've done my sheer 0' sweatin'!—Anyhow,

In this dad-blasted weather here, I'm not a-workin' now!

The corn and wheat and all

Is doin' well enough !—

They' got clean on from now tel Fall To show what kind o' stuff

'At's in their own dad-burn backbone; So, while the Scriptur's 'low

Man ort to reap as he have sown—I'm not a-workin' now I

The grass en-nunder these‑

Here ellums 'long "Old Blue," And shadders o' the sugar-trees,

Beats fa:min' quite a few!
As feller says,—I rather guess

I'll make my comp'ny bow

And snooze a few hours—more er less.

I'm not a-workin' now!

2239

BUB SAYS

THE moon in the sky is a custard-pie, An' the clouds is the cream pour'd o'er it, An' all o' the glittering stars in the sky Is the powdered sugar for it.

Johnts—he's proudest boy in town—'Cause his Mommy she cut down His Pa's pants fer Johnts—an' there Is 'nuff left fer 'nother pair!

One time, when her Ma was gone, Little Elsie she put on

All her Ma's fine clothes—an' black Grow-grain-silk, an' sealskin-sack; Nen while she wuz flouncin' out In the hall an' round about,

Some one knocked, an' Elsie she Clean forgot an' run to see

M40

BUB SAYS 2241

Who's there at the door—an' saw Mighty quick at wuz her Ma. But of she ain't saw at all,

She'd a-knowed her parasol!

Gran'pas an' Gran'mas is funniest folks !— Don't be jolly, ner tell no jokes,

Tell o' the weather an' frost an' snow 0' that cold New Year's o' long ago;

An' then they sigh at each other an' cough An' talk about suddently droppin' off.

THE POOR STUDENT

ITH song elate we celebrate The struggling Student wight, Who seeketh still to pack his pate With treasures erudite;

Who keepeth guard and watch and ward O'er every hour of day,

Nor less to slight the hours of night, He watchful is alway.

Though poor in pence, a wealth of sense

He storeth in excess—With poverty in opulence,

His needs wax never less.

His goods are few,—a shelf or two

Of classics, and a chair

A banjo—with a bird's-eye view
Of back-lots everywhere.

In midnight gloom, shut in his room, His vigils he protracts,

E'en to the morning's hectic bloom, Accumulating facts :

2242

THE POOR STUDENT 2243

And yet, despite or wrong or right, He nurtureth a ban,

He bath the stanchless appetite Of any hired man.

On Jason's fleece and storied Greece He feeds his hungry mind ;

Then stuffs himself like a valise

With "eats" of any kind :

With kings he feigns he feasts, and drains The wines of ages gone

Then husks a herring's cold remains And turns the hydrant on.

In Trojan mail he fronts the gale Of ancient battle-rout,

When, 'las the hour I his pipe must fail, And his last "snipe" smush out—Nor pauses he, unless it be

To quote some cryptic scroll

And poise a sardine pensively

O'er his immortal soul.

UNCLE SIDNEY'S RHYMES

ILTTLE Rapacity Greed was a glutton : He'd eat any meat, from goose-livers to mutton ;

All fowl, flesh, or sausage with all savors through it

You never saw sausage stuffed as he could do it ! His nice mamma owned, "0 he eats as none other Than animal kind"; and his bright little brother Sighed, pained to admit a phrase non-eulogistic, "Rap eats like a—pardon me—Cannibalistic." "He eats—like a boor," said his sister—"a shameless Plebeian, in sooth, of an ancestry nameless !" "He eats," moaned his father, despairingly placid And hopeless,—"he eats like—he eats like an acid !"

"BLUE-MONDAY" AT THE SHOE SHOP

IN THE EARLY SEVENTIES

H, if we had a rich boss Who liked to have us rest, With a dime's lift for a benchmate Financially dist ressed,—

A boss that's been a "jour." himself And ain't forgot the pain

Of restin' one day in the week,

Then back to work againe

Chorus

Ho, it's hard times together, We've had 'em, you and I,

In all kinds of weather, Let it be wet or dry;

But I'm bound to earn my livelihood

Or lay me down and die!

Poverty compels me

To face the snow and sleet,—For pore wife and children Must have a crust to eat.‑

2245

2246 "BLUE-MONDAY" AT THE SHOE SHOP

The sad wail of hunger

It would drive me insane,
If it wasn't for Blue-Monday
When I git to work again I

Chorus

Ho, it's hard times together,

We've had 'em, you and I, In all kinds of weather,

Let it be wet or dry;

But I'm bound to earn my livelihood

Or lay me down and die!

Then it's stoke up the stove, Boss,

And drive off the damps : Cut out me tops, Boss,

And lend me your clamps:— Pass us your tobacky

Till I give me pipe a start. . Lor', Boss ! how we love ye For your warm kynd heard

Chorus

Ho, it's hard times together,

We've had 'em, you and I, In all kinds of weather,

Let it be wet or dry;

But I'm bound to earn my livelihood

Or lay me down and die!

THE THOUGHTS OF YOUTH

THE BOYS'

HE lisping maid, 1 In shine and shade

Half elfin and half human,
We love as such

Yet twice as much

Will she be loved as woman.

THE GIRLS'

The boy we see, Of two or three

Or even as a baby,

We love to kiss

For what he is,

Yet more for what he may be.

2247

O. HENRY

WRITTEN IN THE CHARACTER OF SHERRARD PLUMMER

HENRY, Af rite-chef of all delight !— Of all delectables conglomerate That stay the starved brain and rejuvenate The mental man. Th' esthetic appetite—So long anhungered that its "in'ards" fight

And growl gutwise,—its pangs thou dost

abate

And all so amiably alleviate,

Joy pats its belly as a hobo might

Who haply hath attained a cherry pie

With no burnt bottom in it, ner no seedsNothin' but crispest crust, and thickness fit,

And squshin'-juicy, and jes' mighty nigh

Too dratted drippin'-sweet fer human needs, But fer the sosh of milk that goes with it.

2248

WILLIAM McKINLEY

CANTON, OHIO, SEPTEMBER 30, 1907

E said: "It is God's way: His will, not ours be done." And o'er our land a shadow lay That darkened all the sun. The voice of jubilee

That gladdened all the air,
Fell sudden to a quavering key
Of suppliance and prayer.

He was our chief—our guide

Sprung of our common Earth, From youth's long struggle proved and

tried

To manhood's highest worth: Through toil, he knew all needs

Of all his toiling kind

The favored striver who succeeds

The one who falls behind.

The boy's young faith he still

Retained through years mature—The faith to labor, hand and will, Nor doubt the harvest sure‑

IL--4 2249

2250 WILLIAM McKINLEY

The harvest of man's love

A nation's joy that swells

To heights of Song, or deeps whereof But sacred silence tells.

To him his Country seemed Even as a Mother, where

He rested—slept ; and once he dreamed--As on her bosom there

And thrilled to hear, within That dream of her, the call

Of bugles and the clang and din
Of war. . . . And o'er it all

His rapt eyes caught the bright

Old Banner, winging wild

And beck'ning him, as to the fight . .

When—even as a child—
He wakened—And the dream

Was real I And he leapt

As led the proud Flag through a gleam

Of tears the Mother wept.

His was a tender hand—Even as a woman's is

And yet as fixed, in Right's command,

As this bronze hand of his:

This was the Soldier brave—This was the Victor fair

This is the Hero Heaven gave
To glory here—and There.

"MOTHER"

'M gittin' old—I know,— It seems so long ago—So long sence John was here! He went so young!—our Jim 'S as old now 'most as him,

Close on to thirty year'!

I know I'm gittin' old—I know it by the cold,

From time 'at first frost flies.—Seems like—sence John was here—Winters is more severe;

And winter I de-spise!

And yet it seems, some days,

John's here, with his odd ways .. .

Comes soon-like from the corn-Field, callin' "Mother" at Me—like he called me that

Even 'fore Jim was born!

V51

2252 *MOTHER"

When Jim come—La! how good Was all the neighborhood !—

And Doctor!—when I heerd Him joke John, kind o' low, And say: Yes, folks could go

PA needn't be afeard!

When Jim come,—John says-'eA-bendin' over me

And baby in the bed

And jes' us three,—says-'e

"Our little family!"

And that was all he said .. .

And cried jes' like a child !— Kissed me again, and smiled,

'Cause I was cryin' too. And here I am again

A-cryin', same as then

Yet happy through and through!

The old home's most in mind And joys long left behind ..

Jim's little h'istin' crawl Acrost the floor to where

John set a-rockin' there .. . (I'm gittin' old—That's all!)

I'm gittin' old—no doubt—(Healthy as all git-out °— But, strangest thing I do,—

"I'm gittin' old—I know,—"

"MOTHER" 2253

I cry so easy now

I cry jes' anyhow

The fool-tears wants me to!

But Jim he won't be told

'At "Mother" 's gittin' old! .. .

Hugged me, he did, and smiled This morning, and bragged "shore" He loved me even more

Than when he was a child!

That's his way; but of John Was here now, lookin' on,

He'd shorely know and see: "But, 'Mother,' " s'pect he'd say, "S'pose you air gittin' gray,

You're younger yet than met'

I'm gittin' old,—because

Our young days, like they was, Keeps comin' back—so clear, 'At little Jim, once more,

Comes h'istin' crost the floor Fer John's old rockin'-cheer!

• • • . .

0 beautiful!—to be

A-gittin' old, like me! .. .

Hey, Jim! Come in now, Jim! Your supper's ready, dear!

(How more, every year,

He looks and acts Sike him!)

THE BOYS OF THE OLD GLEE CLUB

OU-FOLKS rickollect, I know— 1 'Tain't so very long agoTh' Old Glee Club—was got up here 'Bout first term Grant tuk the Cheer Fer President four year—and then Riz—and tuk the thing again! Politics was runnin' high,

And the Soldiers mighty nigh

Swep' the Country—lout on par With their rickord through the War. Glee Club, mainly, Soldiers, too—Most the Boys had wore the blue,—So their singin' had the swing—Kind o' sort o' Shiloh-ring,

Don't you know, 'at kind o' got Clean inside a man and shot

Telegrams o' joy dee-vine

Up and down his mortal spine!

2254

THE BOYS OF THE OLD GLEE CLUB 2255

They was jest boys then, all young—And 'bout lively as they sung! Now they hain't young any more—('Less the ones 'at's gone before

'S got their youth back, glad and free 'N' keerless as they used to be 0 Burgess Brown's old friends all 'low He is 'most as lively now,

And as full o' music, too,

As when Old Glee Club was newt And John Blake, you mind, 'at had The near-sightedness so bad, When he sung by note, the rest Read 'em fer him, er he guessed How they run—and sung 'em, too, Clair and sweet as honey-dew! Harry Adams's here—and he's Jollyin' ever' man he sees

'At complains o' gittin' gray Er a-agein' anyway.

Harry he jest thrives on fun—"Troubles?" he says,—"Nary one !— Got gran'-children I can play

And keep young with, night and day I" Then there's ()say Weaver—he's Kickin', lively as you please,—'N' Dearie Macy.—Called 'em then "The Cherubs." Sung "We are two Men 0' th' Olden Time." Well I their duets Was jest sweet as violets!

And Dan Ransdell—he's still here‑

2256. THE BOYS OF THE OLD GLEE CLUB

Not jest in the town, but near Enough, you bet, to allus come Prompt' on time to vote at home! Dan he's be'n in Washington Sence he went with Harrison. . . . And John Slauson—(Boys called John "Sloppy Weather.")—he went on Once to Washington ; and Dan Intertained him :—Ever' man, From the President, to all

Other big-guns Dan could haul In posish 'ud have to shake

Hands with John fer old times' sake. And to hear John, when he got Home again, w'y, you'd 'a' caught His own spent and dry fun

And mis-thieve-y-ousness 'at run Through his talk of all he see :— "Rather pokey there, fer me,"

John says,—"though, of course, I met Mostly jest the Cabinet

Members ; and the President

'He'd drop round : and then we went Incogg fer a quiet walk

Er sometimes jest set and talk 'Bout old times back here—and how All you-boys was doin' now, And Old Glee Club songs ; and then He'd say, 'f he could, once again, Jest hear us—'once more,' says he,—

THE BOYS OF THE OLD GLEE CLUB 2257

`I'd shed Washington, D. C.,

And jest fall in ranks with you And march home, a-singin, too l'" And Bob Geiger—Now lives down At Atlanty,—but this town

'S got Bob's heart—a permanent And time-honored resident.

Then there's Mahlon Butler—still Lookin' like he allus will I

"How you feelin'?" s'I, last time I see Mahlon: 'N' he says, "I'm 'Fei^gner" says, "so peert and gay 'F I's hitched up I'd run away I" He says, "Course I'm bald a bit, But not 'nough to brag on it

Like Dave Wallace does," he says, "With his two shamefacetedness I" (Dave jest laughs and lifts his "dice" At the joke, and blushes—twice.) And Ed. Thompson, he's gone onThey's a whole quartette 'at's gone—Yes, a whole quartette, and more, Has crossed on the Other Shore. . . Saboid and Doc Wood'ard's gone

'N' Ward; and—last,—Will Tarkington.— Ward 'at made an Irish bull

Actchully jest beautiful!‑

"'Big-nose Ben,' " says Ward, "I ?pose, Makes an eyesore of his nose!" And Will Tarkington—El he

2258 THE BOYS OF THE OLD GLEE CLUB

Ever had an inemy,

The Good Bein's plans has be'n Tampered with !—because all men, Women and childern—ever' one—Loved to love Will Tarkington!

The last time I heerd 'em all

Was at Tomilsonian Hall,

As I rickollect—and know,—

Must be'n fifteen year' ago !—

Big Mass Meetin'—thousands here. . .. Old Dick Thompson in the Cheer On the stage—and three er four Other "Silver-Tongues" er more! .. . Mind Ben Harrison ?—Clean, rich, Ringin' voice—" 'bout concert-pitch," Tarkington he called it, and

Said its music 'clipsed the band

And Glee Club both rolled in one 1— (tourse you all knowed Harrison!) Yes, and Old Flag, streamin' clean From the high arch 'bove the scene And each side the Speaker's stand.—And a Brass, and Sheepskin Band, ('Twixt the speeches 'at was made) 'At cut loose and banged and playedS'pose, to have the noise all through So's th' crowd could listen to

Some real music !—Then Th' Old Glee Club marched out to victory !—

THE BOYS OF THE OLD GLEE CLUB 2259

And sich l—Boys was jest At their very level-best! .. .

My! to hear 'em !—From old "RedWhite-and-Blue," to "Uncle Ned" 1—From "The Sword of Bunker Hill," To "Billy Magee-Magaw"

The more they sung, the more, you know; The crowd jest wouldn't let 'em go!—Till they reached the final notch 0' glory with old "Larboard Watch"! Well! that song's a song my soul Jest swings off in, past control !— Allus did and allus will

Lift me clair of earthly ill

And interrogance and doubt

0' what the good Lord's workin' out Anyway er anyhow! .. .

Shet my eyes and hear it now!—Till, at night, that ship and sea And wet waves jest wallers me Into that same sad yet glad

Certainty the Sailor had

When waked to his watch and ward By th' lone whisper of the LordHeerd high 'hove the hoarsest roar 0' any storm on sea er shore!

Time's be'n clockin' on, you know! Sabold, who was first to go,

Died back East, in ninety-three, At his old home, Albany:

2260 THE BOYS OF THE OLD GLEE CLUB

Ward was next to leave us—Died

New York. . . . How we've laughed and cried

Both together at them two

Friends and comards tried and true INer they wasn't, when they died,

Parted long—'most side-by-side

They went singin', you might say, Till their voices died away

Kind o' into a duet

0' silence they're rehearsin' yet

Old Glee Club's be'n meetin' less And less frequenter, I guess, Sence so many's had to go—And the rest all miss 'em so

Still they's calls they' got to make, Fer old reputation's sake, So to speak ; but, 'course, they all Can't jest answer ever' call'Ceptin' Christmas-times, er when Charity calls on 'em then; And—not chargin' anything‑

W'y, the Boys's jest got to sing! .. Campaign work, and jubilees To wake up the primaries ; Loyal Legions—G. A. R.'s-- Big Reunions—Stripes-and-Stars Fer Schoolhouses ever'where‑

And Church-doin's, here and there—And Me-morial Meetin's, when

THE BOYS OF THE OLD GLEE CLUB 2261

Our War-Gov'ner lives again! Yes, and Decoration Days—Martial music—prayers and praise Per the Boys 'at marched away

So's we'd have a place to stay! .. . Little childern, 'mongst the flowers, Learnin"bout this Land of Ours, And the price these Soldiers paid, Gethered in their last parade. . . . O that sweetest, saddest sound!—"Tenting on the old Campground." .. .

The Old Glee Club—singin' so Quaverin'-like and soft and low, Ever' listener in the crowd

Sings in whispers—but, out 'loud, Sings as of he didn't keer‑

Not fer nothid ! . . . Ketch me here

Whilse I'm honest, and I'll say God's way is the only way! .. . So I' allus felt, i jing!

Ever' time the Boys 'ud sing

'Bout "A Thousand Years, my Own Columbia!"—er "The Joys we've Known"—"Hear dem Bells"—er "Hi-lo, Hail !"—

I have felt God must prevail—Jest like ever boy 'at's gone Of 'em all, whilse he was on Deck here with us, seemed to be Livin', laughin' proof, to me, Of Eternal Life—No more

juift than them gone before! .. .

2262 THE BOYS OF THE OLD GLEE CLUB

Can't I—many-a-time—jest see Them all, like they used to be!Tarkington, fer instance, clean Outside o' the man you seen, Singin'—till not only you

Heerd his voice but felt it, too, In back of the bench you set In—And 'most can feel it yet! Yes, and Will's the last o' five Now that's dead—yet still dive, True as Holy Writ's own word

Has be'n spoke and man has heerd I Them was left when Will went on Has met once sence he was gone—Met jest once—but not to sing Ner to practise anything.—Facts is, they jest didn't know Why they was a-meetin' so ;— But John Brush he had it done And invited ever' one

Of 'em he could find, to call At his office, "Music Hall," Four o'clock—one Saturd'y Afternoon.—And this was three Er four weeks, mind, sence the day We had laid poor Will away. Mahlon Butler he come past My shop, and I dropped my last And went with him, wonder'n, too, What new joke Brush had in view;

THE BOYS OF THE OLD GLEE CLUB 2263

But, when all got there, and oneBy-one was give' a seat, and none 0' Brush's twinkles seemed in sight, 'N' he looked biz all right, all right,—We saw—when he'd locked the door—What some of us, years before, Had seen, and long sence fergot(Seen but not heerd, like as not.)—How Brush, once when Admiral Brown 'S back here in his old home-town And flags ever'wheres---and Old Glee Club tellin' George to "Hold

The Fort!" and "We" would "make 'em flee By land and sea," et cetery,— How Brush had got the Boys to sing A song in that-there very thing Was on the table there to-daySome kind o"phone, you know.—But say! When John touched it off, and we Heerd it singin'—No-sir-ee !— Not the machine a-singin'—No,-- Th' Old Glee Club o' long ago! .. . There was Sabold's voice again—'N' Ward's;—and, sweet as summer-rain, With glad boy-laughture's trills and runs, Ed. Thompson's voice and Tarkington's! .. . And ah, to hear them, through the storm Of joy that swayed each listener's form—Seeming to call, with hail and cheer, From Heaven's high seas down to us here:—

1264 THE BOYS OF TILE OLD GLEE CLEM

"But who can speak the joy he feels While o'er the foam his vessel reels, And his tired eyelids slumbering fall, He rouses at the welcome call

Of 'Larboard Watch, Ahoy!'"

And 0

To hear them—same as long ago—The listeners whispered, still as death, With trembling lips and broken breath, As with one voice—and eyes all wet,— ton !—Godl--Thank God, they're singing

yet!"

"Yon-folks rickollect, I know—"

"MONA MACIIREE"

Mona Machree, I'm the wanderin creature now, Over the sea;

Slave of no lass, but a lover of Nature now, Careless and free.

—T. A. DALY

ONA MACHREE I och, the sootherin' flow of it, Soft as the sea,

Yet, in under the mild, moves the wild undertow of it

Tuggin' at me,

Until both the head and the heart o' me's fightin' For breath, nigh a death all so grandly invitin' That—barrin' your own livin' yet—I'd delight in,

Drowned in the deeps of this billowy song to you Sung by a lover your beauty has banned,

Not alone from your love but his dear native land, Whilst the kiss of his lips, and touch of his hand, And his song—all belong to you,

Mona Machree!

2265

SONG DISCORDANT

WANT to say it, and I will:— You are as sour as you are sweet, And sweeter than the daffodil

That blossoms at your feet.

You are as plain as you are fair;

And though I hate, I love you still, And so—confound you, darling! There!—I want to say it, and I will!

I want to ask it, and I do

Demand of you a perfect trust,—But love me as I want you to

You must, you minx !—you must! You blight and bless me, till I swear

And pray—chaotic even as you.—

I curse—Nay, dear,—I kiss you. There !—

I want to, and I do!

2266

LARRY NOOLAN'S NEW YEAR

E-GORRIE, at wor sorry When the Ould Year died: An' aI says, "aI'll shtart to-morry, Like aI've always thried‑

aril give yez all fair warnin' aI'll be shtartin' in the mornin'

From the wakeness at was born in—•

When the Ould Year died."

The year forninsht the pasht wan,

When the Ould Year died,

Says at "This is the lasht wan

aI'll be filled—wid pride."

So says aI til Miss McCarty aI wor meetin' at the party, "Lave us both be drinkin' hearty I"

When the Ould Year died.

So we dined an' wined together,

When the Ould Year died,

An' agreed on health an' weather,

An' the whule wurrld wide,

An' says aI,—"aI'm thinkin' very

Much it's you aI'd like to marry."

"Then," says she, "why don't you, Larry?' When the Ould Year diet

2267

LISPING IN NUMBERS

E' got a' Uncle writes poetry-rhymes Fer me an' Eddie to speak, sometimes,— 'Cause he's a poet—an' he gits paid Fer poetry-writin',—'cause that's his trade. An' Eddie says he's goin' to try

To be a poet, too, by an' by

When he's a man I—an' I 'spell he is, 'Cause on his slate wunst he print' this An' call it

"THE SQUIRE AND THE FUNY LITEL GIRL"

"A litel girl

Whose name wits Pert Went to the woods to play. The day wuz brite,

An' her hart urns lite
As she galy skiped a way.

"A queer litel chatter, A soft litel patter,

She herd in the top of a tree:

The surprizd litel Perl
Saw a qute litel squirt,
As tuning as tuning cud be.

flea

LISPING IN NUMBERS 2209

"She twisted her curl,

As she looked at the squirt, An' playfully told it 'good day! She calld it 'Bunny"—

Wuzent that funyf

An' it noded an' bounded a way."

Ma read it, an' says "she's awful proud,"—An' Pa says "Splen'id l" an' laugh' out loud ; But Uncle says, "You can talk as you please, It's a purty good little poetry-piece I"

BENJAMIN HARRISON

ON THE UNVEILING OF His MONUMENT AT INDIAN•
APOLIS—OCTOBER 27, 1908

tangible a form in History The Spirit of this man stands forth as here He towers in deathless sculpture, high and clear

Against the bright sky of his destiny.

Sprung of our oldest, noblest ancestry,

His pride of birth, as lofty as sincere,

Held kith and kin, as Country, ever dear—Such was his sacred faith in you and me. Thus, natively, from youth his work was one

Unselfish service in behalf of all

Home, friends and sharers of his toil and stress;

Ay, loving all men and despising none, And swift to answer every righteous call, His life was one long deed of worthiness.

The voice of Duty's faintest whisper found Him as alert as at her battle-cry‑

When awful War's battalions thundered by, High o'er the havoc still he heard the sound

2270

BENJAMIN HARRISON 2271

Of mothers' prayers and pleadings all around;

And ever the despairing sob and sigh

Of stricken wives and orphan children's cry Made all our Land thrice consecrated ground.

So rang his "Forward l" and so swept his sword

On I—on from the fire-and-cloud once more

Our proud Flag lifted in the glad sunlight As though the very Ensign of the Lord

Unfurled in token that the strife was o'er,

And victory—as ever—with ^.the right

LEE 0. HARRIS

CHRISTMAS DAY-I909

SAY not he is dead, The friend we honored so; Lift up a grateful voice instead And say : He lives, we know—We know it by the light

Of his enduring love

Of honor, valor, truth and right, And man, and God above.

Remember how he drew

The child-heart to his own,

And taught the parable anew,

And reaped as he had sown; Remember with what cheer

He filled the little lives,

And stayed the sob and dried the tear
With mirth that still survives.

All duties to his kind

It was his joy to fill;

With nature gentle and refined. Yet dauntless soul and will, 2272

LEE 0. HARRIS 2273

He met the trying need

Of every troublous call,

Yet high and clear and glad indeed He sung above it all.

Ay, listen I Still we hear

The patriot song, the lay

Of love, the woodland note so dear

These will not die away. Then say not he is dead,

The friend we honor so,
But lift a grateful voice instead,

And say: He lives, we know.

SOMETHING

ITTING by the glimmer Of the fire to-night, Though the glowing embers

Sparkle with delight—
There's a sense of something,

Vaguely understood, Stealing o'er the spirit

As a shadow would.

Is it that the shutter

Shudders in the wind

As a lance of moonshine

Shivers through the blind? Or the lamplight dancing

In pretended glee

As the keynote whistles

In a minor key?

Footsteps on the sidewalk,

Crunching through the snow, Seem to whisper something

Of the long ago

And the merry greetings

Of the passers-by

Seem like truant echoes

Coming home to die.

2274

SOMETHING 2275

I have coaxed my pencil

For a smiling face,

But the sketch is frowning

And devoid of grace; And the airy waltzes

Of my violin

Die away in dirges

Ere I well begin.

Lay away the story

Though the theme is sweet—There's a lack of something

Makes it incomplete; There's a nameless yearning—..

Strangely undefined—For a something better

Than the common kind.

Something! Oh, that something!

We may never know
Why the soul is haunted

Ever thus and so,

Till the longing spirit

Answers to the call

Of the trumpet sounding

Something after alL

A CHRISTMAS-TIME JINGLE

MY dears, do you know, one short Christmas ago,

There were two little children named Jimpsy and Jo, Who were stolen away by their Uncle that day, Who drove round and carted them off in a sleigh?

And the two little chaps, rolled in buffalo wraps, With their eyes in the furs and their hands in their laps,

He whizzed down the street, through the snow and the sleet

At a gait old Kriss Kr:ngle himself couldn't beat.

And their Uncle yelled "Ho l" all at once, and then "Whoa!

Mr. Horses, this store is where we must go." And as the sleigh stopped, up the heads popped, And out on the sidewalk the old Uncle hopped.

And he took the boys in, with a wink and a grin, And had 'em dressed clean up from toe-tip to chin, Then he bundled 'em back in the sleigh, and cur‑

rack!

Went the whip; and away they all went whizzin' back.

2276

A CHRISTMAS-TIME JINGLE 2211

And Jimpsy and Jo, when they marched in, you know,

There at home, with new suits, Loth their parents says "Oh,

What dee-lishamous rare little children you air,— W'y you' got the best Uncle tha' is anywhere!"

But their Uncle just pats the boys' heads and says, "Rats l"

In a whisper to them—"Parents purr same as cats"; Then he kissed 'em and rose and fished round in his clothes,

And lit his old pipe with the end of his nose.

WHEN BABY PLAYED

HEN Baby played, The very household tasks were stayed To listen to her voice:—Secrete, We heard her lisping, low and sweet, Among her many dolls and pets; Or, at her window's mignonettes, Making some butterfly—arrayed In tremulous gold—all unafraid

When Baby played.

When Baby played

Amidst the reapers,—why, they laid Their work aside, and with loud glee Tossed her among them tenderly; And they did single, from the blur Of tousled grasses, blooms for her—To wreathe about her throat and wrist, While for the service each was kissed, And on till evensong was made So happier.—When Baby played.

2278

WHEN BABY PLAYED 2279

When Baby played,

The lilies down the everglade

Grew purer—where the waters leapt, The willows laughed instead of wept; And the glad winds went merrying To sway the empty grapevine-swing She needs must leave, in answer to Our call from home at fall of dew—And mimicking the call we made.—When Baby played,—when Baby played.

WHEN BABY SLEPT

WIT

HEN weenty-teenty Baby slept,— With voices stilled we lightly stepped And knelt beside the rug where she Had fallen in sleep all wearily;

And when a dimpled hand would stir, We breathlessly bent over her

And kissed the truant strands that swept The tranc'd lids and the dreams that kept—When Baby blinked her Court and slept.

When Baby waived her throne and slept, It seemed the sunshine lightlier crept Along the carpet and the wall, Her playhouse, tea-set, pets and all:— A loud fly hushed its hum and made The faintest Fairy-serenade,

That lulled all waking things except The goldfish as he flashed and leapt—When Baby doffed her crown and slept.

2280

WHEN BABY SLEPT 2281

When sunset veiled her as she slept, No other sight might intercept Our love-looks, meant for her alone Thg fairest blossom ever blown In all God's garden-lands below I Our Spirits whispered, Even so, And made high mirth in undertone, In stress of joy all sudden grown

A laugh of tears :—for thus we wept, When Baby donned her dreams, and slept.

t -L

WHEN BABY WOKE

HEN weenty-teenty Baby woke, It seemed all summer blossoms broke In fragrant laughter—that the birds, Instead of warbles, sang in words !— Oh, it did seem to us (who, in

Our rapture, dappled cheek and chin With our warm kisses) to invoke

Our love to break as morning broke!-, When wondrous Baby woke.

When our enraptured Baby woke,—As when on violets sink and soak

The dewdrops of some glorious dawn,—So seemed the eyes we gazed upon;

And when they smiled, we, bending lower, Knew never sunlight any more Would be as bright to us—and thus Forever must they shine for us! When Baby dewed her eyes and woke.

When Baby danced her eyes and woke—The hearts within us, stroke on stroke, Went throbbing like the pulse of some High harmony harp-strings might thrum

2282

WHEN BABY WOKE

In halls enchanted of the lore

Of Arthur's court in days of yore,—To us she was "a princess f air"—

An "Elfin Queen"—"A ladye rare", And we but simple-minded folk—When Baby woke,—when Baby woke.

A HOBO VOLUNTARY

ff, the hobo's life is a roving life; It robs pretty maids of their heart's delight—It causes them to weep and it causes them to mourn For the life of a hobo, never to return.

The hobo's heart it is light and free,

Though it's Sweethearts all, farewell to thee !— Farewell to thee, for it's far away

The homeless hobo's footsteps stray.

In the morning bright, or the dusk so dim, It's any path is the one for him!

He'll take his chances, long or short,

For to meet his fate with a valiant heart.

Oh, it's beauty mops out the sidetracked-car, And it's beauty-beaus' at the pigs-feet bar; But when his drinks and his eats is made Then the hobo shunts off down the grade.

He camps near town, on the old crick-bank, And he cuts his name on the water-tankHe cuts his name and the hobo sign,—'Bound for the land of corn and wine!"

2284

A HOBO VOLUNTARY 2285

He's lonesome-like, so he gits run in, To git the hang o' the world again;

But the laundry circles he moves in there Makes him sigh for the country air,—

So it's Good-by gals! and he takes his chance And wads hisself through the workhouse-fence: He sheds the town and the railroad, too, And strikes mud roads for a change of view.

The jay drives by on his way to town, And looks on the hobo in high scorn,

And so likewise does the farmhands stare—But what the haids does the hobo care!

He hits the pike, in the summer's heat

Or the winter's cold, with its snow and sleet—With a boot on one foot, and one shoe—Or he goes barefoot, if he chooses to.

But he likes the best when the day is warm, With his bum prince-albert on his arm—He likes to size up a farmhouse where They haint no man nor bulldog there.

Oh, he gits his meals wherever he can, So natchurly he's a handy man—He's a handy man both day and night, And he's always blest with an appetite

2286 A HOBO VOLUNTARY

(Oh, it's I like friends that he'ps me through, And the friends also that he'ps you, too,—Oh, I like all friends, 'most every kind

But I don't like friends that don't like mine.)

There's friends of mine when they gits the hunch Comes a swarmin' in, the blasted bunch,"Clog-step Jonny" and "Flat-wheel Bill"

And "Brockey Ike" from Circleville.

With "Cooney Ward" and "Sikes the Kid" And old "Pop Lawson"—the best we had—The rankest mug and the worst for lush And the dandiest of the whole blame push.

Oh, them's the times I remembers best

When I took my chance with all the rest,

And hogged fried chicken and roastin' ears, too, And sucked cheroots when the feed was through.

Oh, the hobo's way is the railroad line, And it's little he cares for schedule time; Whatever town he's a-striken for

Will wait for him till he gits there.

And whatever burg that he lands in

There's beauties there just thick for him—:There's beauty at "The Queen's Taste Lunch-stand," sure,

Or "The Last Chance Boardin' House" back door.

A HOBO VOLUNTARY 2287

A tin o' black coffee, and a rhuburb pie-' Be they old and cold as charity

They're hot-stuff enough for the pore hobo,

And it's "Thanks, kind lady, for to treat me so I"

Then he fills his pipe with a stub cigar And swipes a coal from the kitchen-fire, And the hired girl says, in a smilin' tone,—"It's good-by, John, if you call that gob'!"

Oh, the hobo's life is a roving life,

It robs pretty maids of their heart's delight

It causes them to weep and it causes them to mourn For the life of a hobo, never to return.

TO BENJ. S. PARKER

OU sang the song of rare delight "'Tis morning and the days are long"—

A morning fresh and fair and bright
As ever dawned in happy song;

A radiant air, and here and there

Were singing birds on sprays of bloom, And dewy splendors everywhere,

And heavenly breaths of rose perfume—All rapturous things were in the song "'Tis morning and the days are long."

0 singer of the song divine,

Though now you turn your face away With never word for me or mine Nor smile forever and a day,

We guess your meaning, and rejoice

In what has come to you—the meed Beyond the search of mortal voice

And only in the song indeed—With you forever, as the song,

"'Tis morning and the days are long."

2286

MY CONSCIENCE

SOMETIMES my Conscience says, says he,

"Don't you know me?"

And I, says I, skeered through and through "Of course I do.

You air a nice chap ever' way,

I'm here to say!

You make me cry—you make me pray, And all them good things thatawayThat is, at night. Where do you stay Durin' the day ?"

And then my Conscience says, onc't more, "You know me—shore?"

"Oh, yes," says I, a-trimblin' faint,

"You're jes' a saint!

Your ways is all so holy-right,

I love you better ever' night

You come around,—tel' plum daylight, When you air out o' sight!"