RILEY'S POETRY OF NATURE: Knee-Deep in June, From Delphi to Camden, On the Banks of Deer Crick, Herr Weiser.
Tell you what I like the best -
'Long about knee-deep in June,
'Bout the time strawberries melts
On the vine, - some afternoon
Like to jes' git out and rest,
And not work at nothin' else!
Orchard's where I'd ruther be -
Needn't fence it in fer me! -
Jes' the whole sky overhead,
And the whole airth underneath -
Sort o' so's a man kin breathe
Like he ort, and kind o' has
Elbow-room to keerlessly
` Sprawl out len'thways on the grass
Where the shadders thick and soft
As the kivvers on the bed
Mother fixes in the loft
Allus, when they's company!
Jes' a-sort o' lazin there -
S'lazy, 'at you peek and peer
Through the wavin' leaves above,
` Like a feller 'ats in love
And don't know it, ner don't keer!
Ever'thing you hear and see
Got some sort o' interest -
Maybe find a bluebird's nest
Tucked up there conveenently
Fer the boy 'at's ap' to be
Up some other apple tree!
Watch the swallers skootin' past
Bout as peert as you could ast;
Er the Bob-white raise and whiz
Where some other whistle is.
Ketch a shadder down below,
And look up to find the crow -
Er a hawk, - away up there,
'Pearantly froze in the air! -
Hear the old hen squawk, and squat
Over ever' chick she's got,
Suddent-like! - and she knows where
That-air hawk is, well as you! -
You jes' bet yer life she do! -
Eyes a-glitterin' like glass,
Waitin' till he makes a pass!
Pee-wees wingin', to express
My opinion, 's second-class,
Yit you'll hear 'em more er less;
Sapsucks gittin' down to biz,
Weedin' out the lonesomeness;
Mr. Bluejay, full o' sass,
In them baseball clothes o' his,
Sportin' round the orchad jes'
Like he owned the premises!
Sun out in the fields kin sizz,
But flat on yer back, I guess,
In the shade's where glory is!
That's jes' what I'd like to do
` Stiddy fer a year er two!
Plague! Ef they ain't somepin' in
Work 'at kind o' goes ag'in'
My convictions! - 'long about
Here in June especially! -
Under some ole apple tree,
Jes' a-restin through and through,
I could git along without
Nothin' else at all to do
Only jes' a-wishin' you
Wuz a-gittin' there like me,
And June wuz eternity!
Lay out there and try to see
Jes' how lazy you kin be! -
Tumble round and souse yer head
In the clover-bloom, er pull
Yer straw hat acrost yer eyes
And peek through it at the skies,
Thinkin' of old chums 'ats dead,
Maybe, smilin' back at you
In betwixt the beautiful
Clouds o'gold and white and blue! -
Month a man kin railly love -
June, you know, I'm talkin' of!
March ain't never nothin' new! -
Aprile's altogether too
Brash fer me! and May - I jes'
'Bominate its promises, -
Little hints o' sunshine and
Green around the timber-land -
A few blossoms, and a few
Chip-birds, and a sprout er two, -
Drap asleep, and it turns in
Fore daylight and snows ag'in! -
But when June comes - Clear my th'oat
With wild honey! - Rench my hair
In the dew! And hold my coat!
Whoop out loud! And th'ow my hat! -
June wants me, and I'm to spare!
Spread them shadders anywhere,
I'll get down and waller there,
And obleeged to you at that!
From Delphi to Camden - little Hoosier towns, -
But here were classic meadows, blooming dales and downs;
And here were grassy pastures, dewy as the leas
Trampled over by the trains of royal pagentries!
And here the winding highway loitered through the shade
Of the hazel covert, where, in ambuscade,
Loomed the larch and linden, and the greenwood-tree
Under which bold Robin Hood loud hallooed to me!
Here the stir and riot of the busy day
Dwindled to the quiet of the breath of May;
Gurgling brooks, and ridges lily-marged and spanned
By the rustic bridges found in Wonderland!
From Delphi to Camden, - from Camden back again! -
And now the night was on us, and the lightning and the rain;
And still the way was wondrous with the flash of hill and plain, -
The stars like printed asterisks - the moon a murky stain!
And I thought of tragic idyll, and of light and hot pursuit,
And the jingle of the bridle and cuirass and spur on boot,
As our horses' hooves struck showers from the flinty boulders set
In freshet-ways of writhing reed and drowning violet.
And we passed beleaguered castles, with their battlements a-frown;
Where a tree fell in the forest was a turret toppled down;
While my master and commander -the brave knight I galloped with
On this reckless road to ruin or to fame was - Dr. Smith!
On the banks o' Deer Crick!
There's the place fer me! -
Worter slidin' past ye jes' as clair as it kin be: -
See the shadder in it, and the shadder o' the sky,
And the shadder o' the buzard as he goes a-lazin' by;
Shadder o' the pizen-vines, and shadder
o' the trees -
And I purt' nigh said the shadder o' the sunshine and the breeze!
Well! - I never seen the ocean ner I never seen the sea. -
On the banks o' Deer Crick's grand enough fer me!
On the banks o' Deer Crick - mil' d er two from town -
'Long up where the mill-race comes a-loafin' down, -
Like to git up in there - 'mongst the sycamores -
And watch the worter at the dam, a-frothin' as she pours;
Crawl out on some old log, with my hook and line,
Where the fish is jes' so thick you kin see 'em shine
As they flicker round yer bait, coaxin' you to jerk,
Tel yer tired ketchin' of 'em, might nigh, as work!
On the banks o' Deer Crick! - Allus my delight
Jes' to be around there - take it day er night! -
Watch the snipes and killdees foolin' half the day -
Er these-'ere little worter-bugs skootin' ever' way! -
Snake-feeders glancin' round, er dartin' out o' sight;
And dewfall, and bullfrogs, and light-nin' - bugs at night -
Stars up through the tree-tops - er in the crick below, -
And smell o' mussrat throught the dark clean from the old by-o!
Er take a tromp, some Sund'y, say 'way up to "Johnson's Hole,"
And find where he's had a fire, and hid his fishin' pole:
Have yer "dog-leg" with ye, and yer pipe and "cut-and-dray -
Pocketful o' corn-bread, and slug er two o' rye…
Soak yer hide in sunshine and waller in the shade -
Like the Good Book tells us - "where there're none to make afraid!"
Well! - I never seen the ocean ner I never seen the sea. -
On the banks o' Deer Crick's grand enough fer me!
Herr Weiser! - Threescore years and ten, -
A hale white rose of his countrymen,
Transplanted here in the Hoosier loam,
And blossomy as his German home -
As blossomy and as pure and sweet
As the cool green glen of his calm retreat,
Far withdrawn from the noisy town
Where trade goes clamoring up and down,
Whose fret and fever, and stress and strife,
May not trouble his tranquil life!
Breath of rest, what a balmy gust! -
Quit of the city's heat and dust,
Jostling down by the winding road,
Through the orchard ways of his quaint abode. -
Tether the horse, as we onward fare
Under the pear trees trailing there,
And thumping the wooden bridge at night
With lumps of ripeness and lush delight,
Till the stream, as it maunders on till dawn,
Is powdered and pelted and smiled upon.
Herr Weiser, with his wholesome face,
And the gentle blue of his eyes, and grace
of unassuming honesty,
Be there to welcome you and me!
And what though the toil of the farm be stopped
And the tireless plans of the place be dropped,
While the prayerful master's knees are set
In beds of pansy and mignonette
And lily and aster and columbine,
Offered in love, as yours and mine? -
What, but a blessing of kindly thought,
Sweet as the breath of forget-me-not! -
What, but a spirit of lustrous love
White as the aster he bends above! -
What, but an odorous memory
Of the dear old man, made known to me
In days demanding a help like his, -
As sweet as the life of the lily is -
As sweet as the soul of a babe, bloom-wise
Born of a lily in Paradise.
