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diff --git a/23111.txt b/23111.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1f97474 --- /dev/null +++ b/23111.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3412 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Songs of Friendship, by James Whitcomb Riley, +Illustrated by Will Vawter + + +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: Songs of Friendship + + +Author: James Whitcomb Riley + + + +Release Date: October 20, 2007 [eBook #23111] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF FRIENDSHIP*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 23111-h.htm or 23111-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/1/1/23111/23111-h/23111-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/1/1/23111/23111-h.zip) + + + + + +RILEY SONGS OF FRIENDSHIP + +by + +JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + +With Pictures by Will Vawter + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: "Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet!"] + + + +New York +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers + +Copyright 1885, 1887, 1888, 1890, + 1892, 1893, 1894, 1900, 1903, 1908, + 1913, 1915 +James Whitcomb Riley + + + + +To + +Young E. Allison--Bookman + + + + + The bookman he's a humming-bird-- + His feasts are honey-fine,-- + (With hi! hilloo! + And clover-dew + And roses lush and rare!) + _His_ roses are the phrase and word + Of olden tomes divine; + (With hi! and ho! + And pinks ablow + And posies everywhere!) + The Bookman he's a humming-bird,-- + He steals from song to song-- + He scents the ripest-blooming rhyme, + And takes his heart along + And sacks all sweets of bursting verse + And ballads, throng on throng. + (With ho! and hey! + And brook and brae, + And brinks of shade and shine!) + + A humming-bird the Bookman is-- + Though cumbrous, gray and grim,-- + (With hi! hilloo! + And honey-dew + And odors musty-rare!) + He bends him o'er that page of his + As o'er the rose's rim. + (With hi! and ho! + And pinks aglow + And roses everywhere!) + Ay, he's the featest humming-bird, + On airiest of wings + He poises pendent o'er the poem + That blossoms as it sings-- + God friend him as he dips his beak + In such delicious things! + (With ho! and hey! + And world away + And only dreams for him!) + + + + + O friends of mine, whose kindly words come to me + Voiced only in lost lisps of ink and pen, + If I had power to tell the good you do me, + And how the blood you warm goes laughing through me, + My tongue would babble baby-talk again. + + And I would toddle round the world to meet you-- + Fall at your feet, and clamber to your knees + And with glad, happy hands would reach and greet you, + And twine my arms about you, and entreat you + For leave to weave a thousand rhymes like these-- + + A thousand rhymes enwrought of nought but presses + Of cherry-lip and apple-cheek and chin, + And pats of honeyed palms, and rare caresses, + And all the sweets of which as Fancy guesses + She folds away her wings and swoons therein. + + + + +{xv} + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + ABE MARTIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142 + AMERICA'S THANKSGIVING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182 + ANCIENT PRINTERMAN, THE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 + ART AND POETRY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78 + BACK FROM TOWN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 + BE OUR FORTUNES AS THEY MAY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34 + BECAUSE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 + CHRISTMAS GREETING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + DAN O'SULLIVAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132 + DEAD JOKE AND THE FUNNY MAN, THE . . . . . . . . . . . . 180 + DOWN TO THE CAPITAL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80 + FRIEND OF A WAYWARD HOUR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46 + GOOD-BY ER HOWDY-DO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58 + HER VALENTINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140 + HERR WEISER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + HOBO VOLUNTARY, A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 + I SMOKE MY PIPE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36 + IN THE AFTERNOON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148 + IN THE HEART OF JUNE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120 + JAMES B. MAYNARD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100 + LETTER TO A FRIEND, A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 + "LITTLE MAN IN THE TINSHOP, THE" . . . . . . . . . . . . 61 + LITTLE OLD POEM THAT NOBODY READS, THE . . . . . . . . . 146 + MOTHER-SONG, A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 + MY BACHELOR CHUM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 + MY FRIEND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126 + MY HENRY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 + +{xvi} + + MY JOLLY FRIEND'S SECRET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 + MY OLD FRIEND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134 + OLD BAND, THE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 + OLD CHUMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 + OLD-FASHIONED BIBLE, THE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 + OLD JOHN HENRY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136 + OLD INDIANY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185 + OLD MAN, THE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92 + OLD MAN AND JIM, THE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + OLD SCHOOL-CHUM, THE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112 + OUR OLD FRIEND NEVERFAIL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72 + POET'S LOVE FOR THE CHILDREN, THE . . . . . . . . . . . 42 + REACH YOUR HAND TO ME . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176 + SCOTTY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 + SONG BY UNCLE SIDNEY, A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 + STEPMOTHER, THE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162 + THAT NIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 + TO ALMON KEEPER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 + TO THE QUIET OBSERVER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 + TOM VAN ARDEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68 + TOMMY SMITH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 + TRAVELING MAN, THE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128 + UNCLE SIDNEY TO MARCELLUS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 + WHAT "OLD SANTA" OVERHEARD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 + WHEN OLD JACK DIED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 + WHEN WE THREE MEET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60 + + + + +{xvii} + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + + "SLEEP, FOR THY MOTHER BENDS OVER THEE YET!" . . Frontispiece + BACK FROM TOWN--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 + A HOBO VOLUNTARY--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 + HE CAMPS NEAR TOWN, ON THE OLD CRICK-BANK . . . . . . . 27 + AND SO LIKEWISE DOES THE FARMHANDS STARE . . . . . . . . 31 + A HOBO VOLUNTARY--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 + BE OUR FORTUNES AS THEY MAY--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . 34 + BE OUR FORTUNES AS THEY MAY--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . 35 + AND WRAPPED IN SHROUDS OF DRIFTING CLOUDS . . . . . . . 37 + UNCLE SIDNEY TO MARCELLUS--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . 40 + THE POET'S LOVE FOR THE CHILDREN--HEADPIECE . . . . . . 42 + OF THE ORCHARD-LANDS OF CHILDHOOD . . . . . . . . . . . 43 + FRIEND OF A WAYWARD HOUR--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . 46 + FRIEND OF A WAYWARD HOUR--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . 47 + MY HENRY--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 + NOTHIN' THAT BOY WOULDN'T RESK! . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 + A LETTER TO A FRIEND--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 + A LETTER TO A FRIEND--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . 53 + THE OLD-FASHIONED BIBLE--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . 54 + THE BLESSED OLD VOLUME . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 + GOOD-BY ER HOWDY-DO--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58 + GOOD-BY ER HOWDY-DO--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 + "THE LITTLE MAN IN THE TINSHOP"--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . 61 + THE ORCHESTRA, WITH ITS MELODY . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 + TOMMY SMITH--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 + OUR OLD FRIEND NEVERFAIL--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . 72 + HIS MOUTH IS A GRIN WITH THE CORNERS TUCKED IN . . . . . 75 + ART AND POETRY--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78 + DOWN TO THE CAPITAL--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80 + TO OLD ONE-LEGGED CHAPS, LIKE ME . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 + +{xviii} + + "IT'S ALL JES' ARTIFICIAL, THIS-ERE HIGH-PRICED + LIFE OF OURS" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 + OLD CHUMS--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 + SCOTTY--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 + THE OLD MAN--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92 + IN YOUR REPOSEFUL GAZE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 + THE OLD MAN--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99 + THE ANCIENT PRINTERMAN--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . 101 + O PRINTERMAN OF SALLOW FACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 + THE OLD MAN AND JIM--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + "WELL, GOOD-BY, JIM" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 + THE OLD MAN AND JIM--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 + THE OLD MAN AND JIM--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 + THE OLD MAN AND JIM--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111 + THE OLD SCHOOL-CHUM--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112 + THE OLD SCHOOL-CHUM--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 + MY JOLLY FRIEND'S SECRET--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . 114 + AH, FRIEND OF MINE, HOW GOES IT . . . . . . . . . . . . 115 + MY JOLLY FRIEND'S SECRET--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . 119 + THE OLD BAND--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 + I WANT TO HEAR THE OLD BAND PLAY . . . . . . . . . . . . 123 + THE OLD BAND--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 + MY FRIEND--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126 + MY FRIEND--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 + THE TRAVELING MAN--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128 + WHO HAVE MET HIM WITH SMILES AND WITH CHEER . . . . . . 129 + DAN O'SULLIVAN--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132 + DAN O'SULLIVAN--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133 + MY OLD FRIEND--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134 + OLD JOHN HENRY--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136 + A SMILIN' FACE AND A HEARTY HAND . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 + CHRISTMAS GREETING--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + ABE MARTIN--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142 + HIS MOUTH, LIKE HIS PIPE, 'S ALLUS GOIN' . . . . . . . . 143 + THE LITTLE OLD POEM THAT NOBODY READS--HEADPIECE . . . . 146 + THE LITTLE OLD POEM THAT NOBODY READS--TAILPIECE . . . . 147 + IN THE AFTERNOON--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148 + YOU IN THE HAMMOCK; AND I, NEAR BY . . . . . . . . . . . 149 + IN THE AFTERNOON--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 + +{xix} + + HERR WEISER--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + AND LILY AND ASTER AND COLUMBINE . . . . . . . . . . . . 155 + HERR WEISER--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 + A MOTHER-SONG--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 + WHAT "OLD SANTA" OVERHEARD--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . 160 + WHAT "OLD SANTA" OVERHEARD--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . 161 + WHEN OLD JACK DIED--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 + WE COULDN'T ONLY CRY WHEN OLD JACK DIED . . . . . . . . 165 + WHEN OLD JACK DIED--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167 + THAT NIGHT--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 + THAT NIGHT--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169 + TO ALMON KEEFER--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 + UNDER "THE OLD SWEET APPLE TREE" . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 + TO ALMON KEEFER--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173 + TO THE QUIET OBSERVER--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 + TO THE QUIET OBSERVER--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . 175 + REACH YOUR HAND TO ME--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . 176 + REACH YOUR HAND TO ME, MY FRIEND . . . . . . . . . . . . 177 + REACH YOUR HAND TO ME--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . 179 + THE DEAD JOKE AND THE FUNNY MAN--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . 180 + THE DEAD JOKE AND THE FUNNY MAN--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . 181 + AMERICA'S THANKSGIVING--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . 182 + OLD INDIANY--HEADPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185 + BUT, FELLERS, SHE'S A LEAKY STATE! . . . . . . . . . . . 187 + OLD INDIANY--TAILPIECE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190 + + + + +{23} + +RILEY SONGS OF FRIENDSHIP + + +[Illustration: Back from town--headpiece] + +BACK FROM TOWN + + Old friends allus is the best, + Halest-like and heartiest: + Knowed us first, and don't allow + We're so blame much better now! + They was standin' at the bars + When we grabbed "the kivvered kyars" + And lit out fer town, to make + Money--and that old mistake! + +{24} + + We thought then the world we went + Into beat "The Settlement," + And the friends 'at we'd make there + Would beat any anywhere!-- + And they do--fer that's their biz: + They beat all the friends they is-- + 'Cept the raal old friends like you + 'At staid at home, like I'd ort to! + + W'y, of all the good things yit + I ain't shet of, is to quit + Business, and git back to sheer + These old comforts waitin' here-- + These old friends; and these old hands + 'At a feller understands; + These old winter nights, and old + Young-folks chased in out the cold! + + Sing "Hard Times'll come ag'in + No More!" and neighbors all jine in! + Here's a feller come from town + Wants that-air old fiddle down + From the chimbly!--Git the floor + Cleared fer one cowtillion more!-- + It's poke the kitchen fire, says he, + And shake a friendly leg with me! + + + + +{25} + +[Illustration: A hobo voluntary--headpiece] + + A HOBO VOLUNTARY + + 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. + + 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. + +{26} + + Oh, it's beauty mops out the sidetracked-car, + And it's beauty-beaut' 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-tank-- + He cuts his name and the hobo sign,-- + "Bound for the land of corn and wine!" + + (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. + +{27} + +[Illustration: He camps near town on the old crick-bank] + +{29} + + 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. + + He's lonesome-like, so he gits run in, + To git the hang o' the world ag'in; + But the laundry circles he moves in there + Makes him sigh for the country air,-- + +{30} + + 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 days 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! + +{31} + +[Illustration: And so likewise do the farmhands stare] + +{33} + + 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!" + + 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 goin'!" + + 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. + +[Illustration: A hobo voluntary--tailpiece] + + + + +{34} + +[Illustration: Be our fortunes as they may--headpiece] + + BE OUR FORTUNES AS THEY MAY + + Be our fortunes as they may, + Touched with loss or sorrow, + Saddest eyes that weep to-day + May be glad to-morrow. + + Yesterday the rain was here, + And the winds were blowing-- + Sky and earth and atmosphere + Brimmed and overflowing. + +{35} + + But to-day the sun is out, + And the drear November + We were then so vexed about + Now we scarce remember. + + Yesterday you lost a friend-- + Bless your heart and love it!-- + For you scarce could comprehend + All the aching of it;-- + + But I sing to you and say: + Let the lost friend sorrow-- + Here's another come to-day, + Others may to-morrow. + +[Illustration: Be our fortunes as they may--tailpiece] + + + + +{36} + + I SMOKE MY PIPE + + I can't extend to every friend + In need a helping hand-- + No matter though I wish it so, + 'Tis not as Fortune planned; + But haply may I fancy they + Are men of different stripe + Than others think who hint and wink,-- + And so--I smoke my pipe! + + A golden coal to crown the bowl-- + My pipe and I alone,-- + I sit and muse with idler views + Perchance than I should own:-- + It might be worse to own the purse + Whose glutted bowels gripe + In little qualms of stinted alms; + And so I smoke my pipe. + +{37} + +[Illustration: And wrapped in shrouds of drifting clouds] + +{39} + + And if inclined to moor my mind + And cast the anchor Hope, + A puff of breath will put to death + The morbid misanthrope + That lurks inside--as errors hide + In standing forms of type + To mar at birth some line of worth; + And so I smoke my pipe. + + The subtle stings misfortune flings + Can give me little pain + When my narcotic spell has wrought + This quiet in my brain: + When I can waste the past in taste + So luscious and so ripe + That like an elf I hug myself; + And so I smoke my pipe. + + And wrapped in shrouds of drifting clouds + I watch the phantom's flight, + Till alien eyes from Paradise + Smile on me as I write: + And I forgive the wrongs that live, + As lightly as I wipe + Away the tear that rises here; + And so I smoke my pipe. + + + + +{40} + +[Illustration: Uncle Sidney to Marcellus--headpiece] + + UNCLE SIDNEY TO MARCELLUS + + Marcellus, won't you tell us-- + Truly tell us, if you can,-- + What will you be, Marcellus, + When you get to be a man? + + You turn, with never answer + But to the band that plays.-- + O rapt and eerie dancer, + What of your future days? + + Far in the years before us + We dreamers see your fame, + While song and praise in chorus + Make music of your name. + + And though our dreams foretell us + As only visions can, + You must prove it, O Marcellus, + When you get to be a man! + + + + +{41} + + A SONG BY UNCLE SIDNEY + + O were I not a clod, intent + On being just an earthly thing, + I'd be that rare embodiment + Of Heart and Spirit, Voice and Wing, + With pure, ecstatic, rapture-sent, + Divinely-tender twittering + That Echo swoons to re-present,-- + A bluebird in the Spring. + + + + +{42} + +[Illustration: The poet's love for the children--headpiece] + + THE POET'S LOVE FOR THE CHILDREN + + Kindly and warm and tender, + He nestled each childish palm + So close in his own that his touch was a prayer + And his speech a blessed psalm. + + He has turned from the marvelous pages + Of many an alien tome-- + Haply come down from Olivet, + Or out from the gates of Rome-- + +{43} + +[Illustration: Of the orchard-lands of childhood] + +{45} + + Set sail o'er the seas between him + And each little beckoning hand + That fluttered about in the meadows + And groves of his native land,-- + + Fluttered and flashed on his vision + As, in the glimmering light + Of the orchard-lands of childhood, + The blossoms of pink and white. + + And there have been sobs in his bosom, + As out on the shores he stept, + And many a little welcomer + Has wondered why he wept.-- + + That was because, O children, + Ye might not always be + The same that the Savior's arms were wound + About, in Galilee. + + + + +{46} + +[Illustration: Friend of a wayward hour--headpiece] + + FRIEND OF A WAYWARD HOUR + + Friend of a wayward hour, you came + Like some good ghost, and went the same; + And I within the haunted place + Sit smiling on your vanished face, + And talking with--your name. + + But thrice the pressure of your hand-- + First hail--congratulations--and + Your last "God bless you!" as the train + That brought you snatched you back again + Into the unknown land. + +{47} + + "God bless me?" Why, your very prayer + Was answered ere you asked it there, + I know--for when you came to lend + Me your kind hand, and call me friend, + God blessed me unaware. + +[Illustration: Friend of a wayward hour--tailpiece] + + + + +{48} + +[Illustration: My Henry--headpiece] + + MY HENRY + + He's jes' a great, big, awk'ard, hulkin' + Feller,--humped, and sort o' sulkin'-- + Like, and ruther still-appearin'-- + Kind-as-ef he wuzn't keerin' + Whether school helt out er not-- + That's my Henry, to a dot! + + Allus kind o' liked him--whether + Childern, er growed-up together! + Fifteen year' ago and better, + 'Fore he ever knowed a letter, + Run acrosst the little fool + In my Primer-class at school. + +{49} + +[Illustration: Nothin' that boy wouldn't resk!] + +{51} + + When the Teacher wuzn't lookin', + He'd be th'owin' wads; er crookin' + Pins; er sprinklin' pepper, more'n + Likely, on the stove; er borin' + Gimlet-holes up thue his desk-- + Nothin' _that_ boy wouldn't resk! + + But, somehow, as I was goin' + On to say, he seemed so knowin', + _Other_ ways, and cute and cunnin'-- + Allus wuz a notion runnin' + Thue my giddy, fool-head he + Jes' had be'n cut out fer me! + + Don't go much on _prophesyin'_, + But last night whilse I wuz fryin' + Supper, with that man a-pitchin' + Little Marthy round the kitchen, + Think-says-I, "Them baby's eyes + Is my Henry's, jes' p'cise!" + + + + +{52} + +[Illustration: A letter to a friend--headpiece] + + A LETTER TO A FRIEND + + The past is like a story + I have listened to in dreams + That vanished in the glory + Of the Morning's early gleams; + And--at my shadow glancing-- + I feel a loss of strength, + As the Day of Life advancing + Leaves it shorn of half its length. + +{53} + + But it's all in vain to worry + At the rapid race of Time-- + And he flies in such a flurry + When I trip him with a rhyme, + I'll bother him no longer + Than to thank you for the thought + That "my fame is growing stronger + As you really think it ought." + + And though I fall below it, + I might know as much of mirth + To live and die a poet + Of unacknowledged worth; + For Fame is but a vagrant-- + Though a loyal one and brave, + And his laurels ne'er so fragrant + As when scattered o'er the grave. + +[Illustration: A letter to a friend--tailpiece] + + + + +{54} + +[Illustration: The old-fashioned Bible--headpiece] + + THE OLD-FASHIONED BIBLE + + How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood + That now but in mem'ry I sadly review; + The old meeting-house at the edge of the wildwood, + The rail fence, and horses all tethered thereto; + The low, sloping roof, and the bell in the steeple, + The doves that came fluttering out overhead + As it solemnly gathered the God-fearing people + To hear the old Bible my grandfather read. + The old-fashioned Bible-- + The dust-covered Bible-- + The leathern-bound Bible my grandfather read. + +{55} + +[Illustration: The blessed old volume] + +{57} + + The blessed old volume! The face bent above it-- + As now I recall it--is gravely severe, + Though the reverent eye that droops downward to love it + Makes grander the text through the lens of a tear, + And, as down his features it trickles and glistens, + The cough of the deacon is stilled, and his head + Like a haloed patriarch's leans as he listens + To hear the old Bible my grandfather read. + The old-fashioned Bible-- + The dust-covered Bible-- + The leathern-bound Bible my grandfather read. + + Ah! who shall look backward with scorn and derision + And scoff the old book though it uselessly lies + In the dust of the past, while this newer revision + Lisps on of a hope and a home in the skies? + Shall the voice of the Master be stifled and riven? + Shall we hear but a tithe of the words He has said, + When so long He has, listening, leaned out of Heaven + To hear the old Bible my grandfather read? + The old-fashioned Bible-- + The dust-covered Bible-- + The leathern-bound Bible my grandfather read. + + + + +{58} + +[Illustration: Good-by er howdy-do--headpiece] + + GOOD-BY ER HOWDY-DO + + Say good-by er howdy-do-- + What's the odds betwixt the two? + Comin'--goin', ev'ry day-- + Best friends first to go away-- + Grasp of hands you'd ruther hold + Than their weight in solid gold + Slips their grip while greetin' you.-- + Say good-by er howdy-do! + +{59} + + Howdy-do, and then, good-by-- + Mixes jes' like laugh and cry; + Deaths and births, and worst and best, + Tangled their contrariest; + Ev'ry jinglin' weddin'-bell + Skeerin' up some funer'l knell.-- + Here's my song, and there's your sigh.-- + Howdy-do, and then, good-by! + + Say good-by er howdy-do-- + Jes' the same to me and you; + 'Taint worth while to make no fuss, + 'Cause the job's put up on us! + Some One's runnin' this concern + That's got nothin' else to learn: + Ef _He's_ willin', we'll pull through-- + Say good-by er howdy-do! + +[Illustration: Good-by er howdy-do--tailpiece] + + + + +{60} + + WHEN WE THREE MEET + + When we three meet? Ah! friend of mine + Whose verses well and flow as wine,-- + My thirsting fancy thou dost fill + With draughts delicious, sweeter still + Since tasted by those lips of thine. + + I pledge thee, through the chill sunshine + Of autumn, with a warmth divine, + Thrilled through as only I shall thrill + When we three meet. + + I pledge thee, if we fast or dine, + We yet shall loosen, line by line, + Old ballads, and the blither trill + Of our-time singers--for there will + Be with us all the Muses nine + When we three meet. + + + + +{61} + +[Illustration: "The little man in the tinshop"--headpiece] + + "THE LITTLE MAN IN THE TINSHOP" + + When I was a little boy, long ago, + And spoke of the theater as the "show," + The first one that I went to see, + Mother's brother it was took me-- + (My uncle, of course, though he seemed to be + Only a boy--I loved him so!) + And ah, how pleasant he made it all! + And the things he knew that _I_ should know!-- + The stage, the "drop," and the frescoed wall; + The sudden flash of the lights; and oh, + The orchestra, with its melody, + And the lilt and jingle and jubilee + Of "The Little Man in the Tinshop"! + +{62} + + For Uncle showed me the "Leader" there, + With his pale, bleak forehead and long, black hair; + Showed me the "Second," and "'Cello," and "Bass," + And the "B-Flat," pouting and puffing his face + At the little end of the horn he blew + Silvery bubbles of music through; + And he coined me names of them, each in turn, + Some comical name that I laughed to learn, + Clean on down to the last and best,-- + The lively little man, never at rest, + Who hides away at the end of the string, + And tinkers and plays on everything,-- + That's "The Little Man in the Tinshop"! + + Raking a drum like a rattle of hail, + Clinking a cymbal or castanet; + Chirping a twitter or sending a wail + Through a piccolo that thrills me yet; + Reeling ripples of riotous bells, + And tipsy tinkles of triangles-- + Wrangled and tangled in skeins of sound + Till it seemed that my very soul spun round, + As I leaned, in a breathless joy, toward my + Radiant uncle, who snapped his eye + And said, with the courtliest wave of his hand, + "Why, that little master of all the band + Is 'The Little Man in the Tinshop'! + +{63} + +[Illustration: The orchestra, with its melody] + +{65} + + "And I've heard Verdi, the Wonderful, + And Paganini, and Ole Bull, + Mozart, Handel, and Mendelssohn, + And fair Parepa, whose matchless tone + Karl, her master, with magic bow, + Blent with the angels', and held her so + Tranced till the rapturous Infinite-- + And I've heard arias, faint and low, + From many an operatic light + Glimmering on my swimming sight + Dimmer and dimmer, until, at last, + I still sit, holding my roses fast + For 'The Little Man in the Tinshop.'" + + Oho! my Little Man, joy to you-- + And _yours_--and _theirs_--your lifetime through! + Though _I've_ heard melodies, boy and man, + Since first "the show" of my life began, + Never yet have I listened to + Sadder, madder, or gladder glees + Than your unharmonied harmonies; + For yours is the music that appeals + To all the fervor the boy's heart feels-- + All his glories, his wildest cheers, + His bravest hopes, and his brightest tears; + And so, with his first bouquet, he kneels + To "The Little Man in the Tinshop." + + + + +{66} + +[Illustration: Tommy Smith--headpiece] + + TOMMY SMITH + + Dimple-cheeked and rosy-lipped, + With his cap-rim backward tipped, + Still in fancy I can see + Little Tommy smile on me-- + Little Tommy Smith. + + Little unsung Tommy Smith-- + Scarce a name to rhyme it with; + Yet most tenderly to me + Something sings unceasingly-- + Little Tommy Smith. + +{67} + + On the verge of some far land + Still forever does he stand, + With his cap-rim rakishly + Tilted; so he smiles on me-- + Little Tommy Smith. + + Elder-blooms contrast the grace + Of the rover's radiant face-- + Whistling back, in mimicry, + "Old--Bob--White!" all liquidly-- + Little Tommy Smith. + + O my jaunty statuette + Of first love, I see you yet. + Though you smile so mistily, + It is but through tears I see, + Little Tommy Smith. + + But, with crown tipped back behind, + And the glad hand of the wind + Smoothing back your hair, I see + Heaven's best angel smile on me,-- + Little Tommy Smith. + + + + +{68} + + TOM VAN ARDEN + + Tom Van Arden, my old friend, + Our warm fellowship is one + Far too old to comprehend + Where its bond was first begun: + Mirage-like before my gaze + Gleams a land of other days, + Where two truant boys, astray, + Dream their lazy lives away. + + There's a vision, in the guise + Of Midsummer, where the Past + Like a weary beggar lies + In the shadow Time has cast; + And as blends the bloom of trees + With the drowsy hum of bees, + Fragrant thoughts and murmurs blend, + Tom Van Arden, my old friend. + +{69} + + Tom Van Arden, my old friend, + All the pleasures we have known + Thrill me now as I extend + This old hand and grasp your own-- + Feeling, in the rude caress, + All affection's tenderness; + Feeling, though the touch be rough, + Our old souls are soft enough. + + So we'll make a mellow hour: + Fill your pipe, and taste the wine-- + Warp your face, if it be sour, + I can spare a smile from mine; + If it sharpen up your wit, + Let me feel the edge of it-- + I have eager ears to lend, + Tom Van Arden, my old friend. + + Tom Van Arden, my old friend, + Are we "lucky dogs," indeed? + Are we all that we pretend + In the jolly life we lead?-- + Bachelors, we must confess, + Boast of "single blessedness" + To the world, but not alone-- + Man's best sorrow is his own! + +{70} + + And the saddest truth is this,-- + Life to us has never proved + What we tasted in the kiss + Of the women we have loved: + Vainly we congratulate + Our escape from such a fate + As their lying lips could send, + Tom Van Arden, my old friend! + + Tom Van Arden, my old friend, + Hearts, like fruit upon the stem, + Ripen sweetest, I contend, + As the frost falls over them: + Your regard for me to-day + Makes November taste of May, + And through every vein of rhyme + Pours the blood of summer-time. + + When our souls are cramped with youth + Happiness seems far away + In the future, while, in truth, + We look back on it to-day + Through our tears, nor dare to boast,-- + "Better to have loved and lost!" + Broken hearts are hard to mend, + Tom Van Arden, my old friend. + +{71} + + Tom Van Arden, my old friend, + I grow prosy, and you tire; + Fill the glasses while I bend + To prod up the failing fire. . . . + You are restless:--I presume + There's a dampness in the room.-- + Much of warmth our nature begs, + With rheumatics in our legs! . . . + + Humph! the legs we used to fling + Limber-jointed in the dance, + When we heard the fiddle ring + Up the curtain of Romance, + And in crowded public halls + Played with hearts like jugglers' balls.-- + _Feats of mountebanks, depend!_-- + Tom Van Arden, my old friend. + + Tom Van Arden, my old friend, + Pardon, then, this theme of mine: + While the firelight leaps to lend + Higher color to the wine,-- + I propose a health to those + Who have _homes_, and home's repose, + Wife- and child-love without end! + . . . Tom Van Arden, my old friend. + + + + +{72} + +[Illustration: Our old friend Neverfail--headpiece] + + OUR OLD FRIEND NEVERFAIL + + O it's good to ketch a relative 'at's richer and don't run + When you holler out to hold up, and'll joke and have his fun; + It's good to hear a man called bad and then find out he's not, + Er strike some chap they call lukewarm 'at's really red-hot; + +{73} + + It's good to know the Devil's painted jes' a leetle black, + And it's good to have most anybody pat you on the back;-- + But jes' the best thing in the world's our old friend Neverfail, + When he wags yer hand as honest as an old dog wags his tail! + + I like to strike the man I owe the same time I can pay, + And take back things I've borried, and su'prise folks thataway; + I like to find out that the man I voted fer last fall, + That didn't git elected, was a scoundrel after all; + I like the man that likes the pore and he'ps 'em when he can; + I like to meet a ragged tramp 'at's still a gentleman; + But most I like--with you, my boy--our old friend Neverfail, + When he wags yer hand as honest as an old dog wags his tail! + + + + +{74} + + MY BACHELOR CHUM + + A corpulent man is my bachelor chum, + With a neck apoplectic and thick-- + An abdomen on him as big as a drum, + And a fist big enough for the stick; + With a walk that for grace is clear out of the case, + And a wobble uncertain--as though + His little bow-legs had forgotten the pace + That in youth used to favor him so. + + He is forty, at least; and the top of his head + Is a bald and a glittering thing; + And his nose and his two chubby cheeks are as red + As three rival roses in spring; + +{75} + +[Illustration: His mouth is a grin with the corners tucked in] + +{77} + + His mouth is a grin with the corners tucked in, + And his laugh is so breezy and bright + That it ripples his features and dimples his chin + With a billowy look of delight. + + He is fond of declaring he "don't care a straw"-- + That "the ills of a bachelor's life + Are blisses, compared with a mother-in-law + And a boarding-school miss for a wife!" + So he smokes and he drinks, and he jokes and he winks, + And he dines and he wines, all alone, + With a thumb ever ready to snap as he thinks + Of the comforts he never has known. + + But up in his den--(Ah, my bachelor chum!)-- + I have sat with him there in the gloom, + When the laugh of his lips died away to become + But a phantom of mirth in the room. + And to look on him there you would love him, for all + His ridiculous ways, and be dumb + As the little girl-face that smiles down from the wall + On the tears of my bachelor chum. + + + + +{78} + +[Illustration: Art and poetry--headpiece] + + ART AND POETRY + + TO HOMER DAVENPORT + + Wess he says, and sort o' grins, + "Art and Poetry is twins! + + "Yit, if I'd my pick, I'd shake + Poetry, and no mistake! + + "Pictures, allus, 'peared to _me_, + Clean laid over Poetry! + +{79} + + "Let me _draw_, and then, i jings, + I'll not keer a straw who sings. + + "'F I could draw as you have drew, + Like to jes' swop pens with you! + + "Picture-drawin' 's my pet vision + Of Life-work in Lands Elysian. + + "Pictures is first language we + Find hacked out in History. + + "Most delight we ever took + Was in our first Picture-book. + + "'Thout the funny picture-makers, + They'd be lots more undertakers! + + "Still, as I say, Rhymes and Art + 'Smighty hard to tell apart. + + "Songs and pictures go together + Same as birds and summer weather." + + So Wess says, and sort o' grins, + "Art and Poetry is twins." + + + + +{80} + +[Illustration: Down to the Capital--headpiece] + + DOWN TO THE CAPITAL + + I' be'n down to the Capital at Washington, D. C., + Where Congerss meets and passes on the pensions ort to be + Allowed to old one-legged chaps, like me, 'at sence the war + Don't wear their pants in pairs at all--and yit how proud we are! + +{81} + + Old Flukens, from our deestrick, jes' turned in and tuck and made + Me stay with him whilse I was there; and longer 'at I stayed + The more I kep' a-wantin' jes' to kind o' git away, + And yit a-feelin' sociabler with Flukens ever' day. + + You see I'd got the idy--and I guess most folks agrees-- + 'At men as rich as him, you know, kin do jes' what they please; + A man worth stacks o' money, and a Congerssman and all, + And livin' in a buildin' bigger'n Masonic Hall! + + Now mind, I'm not a-faultin' Fluke--he made his money square: + We both was Forty-niners, and both bu'sted gittin' there; + I weakened and onwindlassed, and he stuck and stayed and made + His millions; don't know what _I'm_ worth untel my pension's paid. + + But I was goin' to tell you--er a-ruther goin' to try + To tell you how he's livin' now: gas burnin' mighty nigh + In ever' room about the house; and ever' night, about, + Some blame reception goin' on, and money goin' out. + +{82} + + They's people there from all the world--jes' ever' kind 'at lives, + Injuns and all! and Senators, and Ripresentatives; + And girls, you know, jes' dressed in gauze and roses, I declare, + And even old men shamblin' round a-waltzin' with 'em there! + + And bands a-tootin' circus-tunes, 'way in some other room + Jes' chokin' full o' hothouse plants and pinies and perfume; + And fountains, squirtin' stiddy all the time; and statutes, made + Out o' puore marble, 'peared-like, sneakin' round there in the shade. + + And Fluke he coaxed and begged and pled with me to take a hand + And sashay in amongst 'em--crutch and all, you understand; + But when I said how tired I was, and made fer open air, + He follered, and tel five o'clock we set a-talkin' there. + +{83} + +[Illustration: To old one-legged chaps, like me] + +{85} + + "My God!" says he--Fluke says to me, "I'm tireder'n you! + Don't putt up yer tobacker tel you give a man a chew. + Set back a leetle furder in the shadder--that'll do; + I'm tireder'n you, old man; I'm tireder'n you. + + "You see that-air old dome," says he, "humped up ag'inst the sky? + It's grand, first time you see it; but it changes, by and by, + And then it stays jes' thataway--jes' anchored high and dry + Betwixt the sky up yender and the achin' of yer eye. + + "Night's purty; not so purty, though, as what it ust to be + When my first wife was livin'. You remember her?" says he. + I nodded-like, and Fluke went on, "I wonder now ef she + Knows where I am--and what I am--and what I ust to be? + + "That band in there!--I ust to think 'at music couldn't wear + A feller out the way it does; but that ain't music there-- + That's jes' a' _imitation_, and like ever'thing, I swear, + I hear, er see, er tetch, er taste, er tackle anywhere! + +{86} + + "It's all jes' _artificial_, this-'ere high-priced life of ours; + The theory, it's sweet enough, tel it saps down and sours. + They's no _home_ left, ner _ties_ o' home about it. By the powers, + The whole thing's artificialer'n artificial flowers! + + "And all I want, and could lay down and sob fer, is to know + The homely things of homely life; fer instance, jes' to go + And set down by the kitchen stove--Lord! that 'u'd rest me so,-- + Jes' set there, like I ust to do, and laugh and joke, you know. + + "Jes' set there, like I ust to do," says Fluke, a-startin' in, + 'Peared-like, to say the whole thing over to hisse'f ag'in; + Then stopped and turned, and kind o' coughed, and stooped + and fumbled fer + Somepin' o' 'nuther in the grass--I guess his handkercher. + + Well, sence I'm back from Washington, where I left Fluke a-still + A-leggin' fer me, heart and soul, on that-air pension bill, + I've half-way struck the notion, when I think o' wealth and sich, + They's nothin' much patheticker'n jes' a-bein' rich! + +{87} + +[Illustration: "It's all jes' artificial, this-'ere high-priced life of +ours"] + + + + +{89} + +[Illustration: Old chums--headpiece] + + OLD CHUMS + + "If I die first," my old chum paused to say, + "Mind! not a whimper of regret:--instead, + Laugh and be glad, as I shall.--Being dead, + I shall not lodge so very far away + But that our mirth shall mingle.--So, the day + The word comes, joy with me." "I'll try," I said, + Though, even speaking, sighed and shook my head + And turned, with misted eyes. His roundelay + Rang gaily on the stair; and then the door + Opened and--closed. . . . Yet something of the clear, + Hale hope, and force of wholesome faith he had + Abided with me--strengthened more and more.-- + Then--then they brought his broken body here: + And I laughed--whisperingly--and we were glad. + + + + +{90} + +[Illustration: Scotty--headpiece] + + SCOTTY + + Scotty's dead--Of course he is! + Jes' that same old luck of his!-- + Ever sence we went cahoots + He's be'n first, you bet yer boots! + When our schoolin' first begun, + Got two whippin's to my one: + Stold and smoked the first cigar: + Stood up first before the bar, + Takin' whisky-straight--and me + Wastin' time on "blackberry"! + +{91} + + Beat me in the Army, too, + And clean on the whole way through! + In more scrapes around the camp, + And more troubles, on the tramp: + Fought and fell there by my side + With more bullets in his hide, + And more glory in the cause,-- + That's the kind o' man _he_ was! + Luck liked Scotty more'n me.-- + _I_ got married: Scotty, he + Never even would _apply_ + Fer the pension-money I + Had to beg of "Uncle Sam"-- + That's the kind o' cuss _I_ am!-- + Scotty allus first and best-- + Me the last and ornriest! + Yit fer all that's said and done-- + All the battles fought and won-- + We hain't prospered, him ner me-- + Both as pore as pore could be,-- + Though we've allus, up tel now, + Stuck together anyhow-- + Scotty allus, as I've said, + Luckiest--And now he's _dead_! + + + + +{92} + +[Illustration: The old man--headpiece] + + THE OLD MAN + + Lo! steadfast and serene, + In patient pause between + The seen and the unseen, + What gentle zephyrs fan + Your silken silver hair,-- + And what diviner air + Breathes round you like a prayer, + Old Man? + +{93} + + Can you, in nearer view + Of Glory, pierce the blue + Of happy Heaven through; + And, listening mutely, can + Your senses, dull to us, + Hear Angel-voices thus, + In chorus glorious-- + Old Man? + + In your reposeful gaze + The dusk of Autumn days + Is blent with April haze, + As when of old began + The bursting of the bud + Of rosy babyhood-- + When all the world was good, + Old Man. + + And yet I find a sly + Little twinkle in your eye; + And your whisperingly shy + Little laugh is simply an + Internal shout of glee + That betrays the fallacy + You'd perpetrate on me, + Old Man. + +{94} + + So just put up the frown + That your brows are pulling down! + Why, the fleetest boy in town, + As he bared his feet and ran, + Could read with half a glance-- + And of keen rebuke, perchance-- + Your secret countenance, + Old Man. + + Now, honestly, confess: + Is an old man any less + Than the little child we bless + And caress when we can? + Isn't age but just a place + Where you mask the childish face + To preserve its inner grace, + Old Man? + + Hasn't age a truant day, + Just as that you went astray + In the wayward, restless way, + When, brown with dust and tan, + Your roguish face essayed, + In solemn masquerade, + To hide the smile it made, + Old Man? + +{95} + +[Illustration: In your reposeful gaze] + +{97} + + Now, fair, and square, and true, + Don't your old soul tremble through, + As in youth it used to do + When it brimmed and overran + With the strange, enchanted sights, + And the splendors and delights + Of the old "Arabian Nights," + Old Man? + + When, haply, you have fared + Where glad Aladdin shared + His lamp with you, and dared + The Afrite and his clan; + And, with him, clambered through + The trees where jewels grew-- + And filled your pockets, too, + Old Man? + + Or, with Sinbad, at sea-- + And in veracity + Who has sinned as bad as he, + Or would, or will, or can?-- + Have you listened to his lies, + With open mouth and eyes, + And learned his art likewise, + Old Man? + +{98} + + And you need not deny + That your eyes were wet as dry, + Reading novels on the sly! + And review them, if you can + And the same warm tears will fall-- + Only faster, that is all-- + Over Little Nell and Paul, + Old Man! + + Oh, you were a lucky lad-- + Just as good as you were bad! + And the host of friends you had-- + Charley, Tom, and Dick, and Dan; + And the old School-Teacher, too, + Though he often censured you; + And the girls in pink and blue, + Old Man. + + And--as often you have leant, + In boyish sentiment, + To kiss the letter sent + By Nelly, Belle, or Nan-- + Wherein the rose's hue + Was red, the violet blue-- + And sugar sweet--and you, + Old Man,-- + +{99} + + So, to-day, as lives the bloom, + And the sweetness, and perfume + Of the blossoms, I assume, + On the same mysterious plan + The Master's love assures, + That the selfsame boy endures + In that hale old heart of yours, + Old Man. + +[Illustration: The old man--tailpiece] + + + + +{100} + + JAMES B. MAYNARD + + His daily, nightly task is o'er-- + He leans above his desk no more. + + His pencil and his pen say not + One further word of gracious thought. + + All silent is his _voice_, yet clear + For all a grateful world to hear; + + He poured abroad his human love + In opulence unmeasured of-- + + While, in return, his meek demand,-- + The warm clasp of a neighbor-hand + + In recognition of the true + World's duty that he lived to do. + + So was he kin of yours and mine-- + So, even by the hallowed sign + + Of silence which he listens to, + He hears our tears as falls the dew. + + + + +{101} + +[Illustration: The ancient printerman--headpiece] + + THE ANCIENT PRINTERMAN + + O Printerman of sallow face, + And look of absent guile, + Is it the 'copy' on your 'case' + That causes you to smile? + Or is it some old treasure scrap + You call from Memory's file? + + "I fain would guess its mystery-- + For often I can trace + A fellow dreamer's history + Whene'er it haunts the face; + Your fancy's running riot + In a retrospective race! + +{102} + + "Ah, Printerman, you're straying + Afar from 'stick' and type-- + Your heart has 'gone a-maying,' + And you taste old kisses, ripe + Again on lips that pucker + At your old asthmatic pipe! + + "You are dreaming of old pleasures + That have faded from your view; + And the music-burdened measures + Of the laughs you listen to + Are now but angel-echoes-- + O, have I spoken true?" + + The ancient Printer hinted + With a motion full of grace + To where the words were printed + On a card above his "case,"-- + "'I am deaf and dumb!" I left him + With a smile upon his face. + +{103} + +[Illustration: O Printerman of sallow face] + + + + +{105} + +[Illustration: The old man and Jim--headpiece] + + THE OLD MAN AND JIM + + Old man never had much to say-- + 'Ceptin' to Jim,-- + And Jim was the wildest boy he had-- + And the old man jes' wrapped up in him! + Never heerd him speak but once + Er twice in my life,--and first time was + When the army broke out, and Jim he went, + The old man backin' him, fer three months; + And all 'at I heerd the old man say + Was, jes' as we turned to start away,-- + "Well, good-by, Jim: + Take keer o' yourse'f!" + +{106} + + 'Peared-like, he was more satisfied + Jes' _lookin'_ at Jim + And likin' him all to hisse'f-like, see?-- + 'Cause he was jes' wrapped up in him! + And over and over I mind the day + The old man come and stood round in the way + While we was drillin', a-watchin' Jim-- + And down at the deepo a-heerin' him say, + "Well, good-by, Jim: + Take keer of yourse'f!" + + Never was nothin' about the _farm_ + Disting'ished Jim; + Neighbors all ust to wonder why + The old man 'peared wrapped up in him; + But when Cap. Biggler he writ back + 'At Jim was the bravest boy we had + In the whole dern rigiment, white er black, + And his fightin' good as his farmin' bad-- + 'At he had led, with a bullet clean + Bored through his thigh, and carried the flag + Through the bloodiest battle you ever seen,-- + The old man wound up a letter to him + 'At Cap. read to us, 'at said: "Tell Jim + Good-by, + And take keer of hisse'f." + +{107} + +[Illustration: "Well, good-by, Jim"] + +{109} + + Jim come home jes' long enough + To take the whim + 'At he'd like to go back in the calvery-- + And the old man jes' wrapped up in him! + Jim 'lowed 'at he'd had sich luck afore, + Guessed he'd tackle her three years more. + And the old man give him a colt he'd raised, + And follered him over to Camp Ben Wade, + And laid around fer a week er so, + Watchin' Jim on dress-parade-- + Tel finally he rid away, + And last he heerd was the old man say,-- + "Well, good-by, Jim: + Take keer of yourse'f!" + +[Illustration: The old man and Jim--tailpiece] + +{110} + + Tuk the papers, the old man did, + A-watchin' fer Jim-- + Fully believin' he'd make his mark + _Some_ way--jes' wrapped up in him!-- + And many a time the word 'u'd come + 'At stirred him up like the tap of a drum-- + At Petersburg, fer instunce, where + Jim rid right into their cannons there, + And tuk 'em, and p'inted 'em t'other way, + And socked it home to the boys in gray + As they scooted fer timber, and on and on-- + Jim a lieutenant, and one arm gone, + And the old man's words in his mind all day,-- + "Well, good-by, Jim: + Take keer of yourse'f!" + +[Illustration: The old man and Jim--tailpiece] + +{111} + + Think of a private, now, perhaps, + We'll say like Jim, + 'At's dumb clean up to the shoulder-straps-- + And the old man jes' wrapped up in him! + Think of him--with the war plum' through, + And the glorious old Red-White-and-Blue + A-laughin' the news down over Jim, + And the old man, bendin' over him-- + The surgeon turnin' away with tears + 'At hadn't leaked fer years and years, + As the hand of the dyin' boy clung to + His father's, the old voice in his ears,-- + "Well, good-by, Jim: + Take keer of yourse'f!" + +[Illustration: The old man and Jim--tailpiece] + + + + +{112} + +[Illustration: The old school-chum--headpiece] + + THE OLD SCHOOL-CHUM + + He puts the poem by, to say + His eyes are not themselves to-day! + + A sudden glamour o'er his sight-- + A something vague, indefinite-- + + An oft-recurring blur that blinds + The printed meaning of the lines, + + And leaves the mind all dusk and dim + In swimming darkness--strange to him! + +{113} + + It is not childishness, I guess,-- + Yet something of the tenderness + + That used to wet his lashes when + A boy seems troubling him again;-- + + The old emotion, sweet and wild, + That drove him truant when a child, + + That he might hide the tears that fell + Above the lesson--"Little Nell." + + And so it is he puts aside + The poem he has vainly tried + + To follow; and, as one who sighs + In failure, through a poor disguise + + Of smiles, he dries his tears, to say + His eyes are not themselves to-day. + +[Illustration: The old school-chum--tailpiece] + + + + +{114} + +[Illustration: My jolly friend's secret--headpiece] + + MY JOLLY FRIEND'S SECRET + + Ah, friend of mine, how goes it + Since you've taken you a mate?-- + Your smile, though, plainly shows it + Is a very happy state! + Dan Cupid's necromancy! + You must sit you down and dine, + And lubricate your fancy + With a glass or two of wine. + +{115} + +[Illustration: Ah, friend of mine, how goes it] + +{117} + + And as you have "deserted," + As my other chums have done, + While I laugh alone diverted, + As you drop off one by one--- + And I've remained unwedded, + Till--you see--look here--that I'm, + In a manner, "snatched bald-headed" + By the sportive hand of Time! + + I'm an "old 'un!" yes, but wrinkles + Are not so plenty, quite, + As to cover up the twinkles + Of the _boy_--ain't I right? + Yet there are ghosts of kisses + Under this mustache of mine + My mem'ry only misses + When I drown 'em out with wine. + + From acknowledgment so ample, + You would hardly take me for + What I am--a perfect sample + Of a "jolly bachelor"; + Not a bachelor has being + When he laughs at married life + But his heart and soul's agreeing + That he ought to have a wife! + +{118} + + Ah, ha! old chum, this claret, + Like Fatima, holds the key + Of the old Blue-Beardish garret + Of my hidden mystery! + Did you say you'd like to listen? + Ah, my boy! the "_Sad No More!_" + And the tear-drops that will glisten-- + _Turn the catch upon the door,_ + + And sit you down beside me + And put yourself at ease-- + I'll trouble you to slide me + That wine decanter, please; + The path is kind o' mazy + Where my fancies have to go, + And my heart gets sort o' lazy + On the journey--don't you know? + + Let me see--when I was twenty-- + It's a lordly age, my boy, + When a fellow's money's plenty, + And the leisure to enjoy-- + +{119} + + And a girl--with hair as golden + As--_that_; and lips--well--quite + As red as _this_ I'm holdin' + Between you and the light? + + And eyes and a complexion-- + Ah, heavens!--le'-me-see-- + Well,--just in this connection,-- + _Did you lock that door for me?_ + Did I start in recitation + My past life to recall? + Well, _that's_ an indication + I am purty tight--that's all! + +[Illustration: My jolly friend's secret--tailpiece] + + + + +{120} + + IN THE HEART OF JUNE + + In the heart of June, love, + You and I together, + On from dawn till noon, love, + Laughing with the weather; + Blending both our souls, love, + In the selfsame tune, + Drinking all life holds, love, + In the heart of June. + + In the heart of June, love, + With its golden weather, + Underneath the moon, love, + You and I together. + Ah! how sweet to seem, love, + Drugged and half aswoon + With this luscious dream, love, + In the heart of June. + + + + +{121} + +[Illustration: The old band--headpiece] + + THE OLD BAND + + It's mighty good to git back to the old town, shore, + Considerin' I've be'n away twenty year and more. + Sence I moved then to Kansas, of course I see a change, + A-comin' back, and notice things that's new to me and strange; + Especially at evening when yer new band-fellers meet, + In fancy uniforms and all, and play out on the street-- + . . . What's come of old Bill Lindsey and the Saxhorn fellers--say? + I want to hear the _old_ band play. + +{122} + + What's come of Eastman, and Nat Snow? And where's War Barnett at? + And Nate and Bony Meek; Bill Hart; Tom Richa'son and that- + Air brother of him played the drum as twic't as big as Jim; + And old Hi Kerns, the carpenter--say, what's become o' him? + I make no doubt yer _new band_ now's a _competenter_ band, + And plays their music more by note than what they play by hand, + And stylisher and grander tunes; but somehow--anyway, + I want to hear the _old_ band play. + + Sich tunes as "John Brown's Body" and "Sweet Alice," don't you know; + And "The Camels is A-comin'," and "John Anderson, my Jo"; + And a dozent others of 'em--"Number Nine" and "Number 'Leven" + Was favo-_rites_ that fairly made a feller dream o' Heaven. + And when the boys 'u'd saranade, I've laid so still in bed + I've even heerd the locus'-blossoms droppin' on the shed + When "Lilly Dale," er "Hazel Dell," had sobbed and died away-- + . . . I want to hear the _old_ band play. + +{123} + +[Illustration: I want to hear the old band play] + +{125} + + Yer _new_ band ma'by beats it, but the _old band's_ what I said-- + It allus 'peared to kind o' chord with somepin' in my head; + And, whilse I'm no musicianer, when my blame' eyes is jes' + Nigh drownded out, and Mem'ry squares her jaws and sort o' says + She _won't_ ner _never_ will fergit, I want to jes' turn in + And take and light right out o' here and git back West ag'in + And _stay_ there, when I git there, where I never haf to say + I want to hear the _old_ band play. + +[Illustration: The old band--tailpiece] + + + + +{126} + +[Illustration: My friend--headpiece] + + 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. + +{127} + + 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: My friend--tailpiece] + + + + +{128} + +[Illustration: The traveling man--headpiece] + + THE TRAVELING MAN + + I + + Could I pour out the nectar the gods only can, + I would fill up my glass to the brim + And drink the success of the Traveling Man, + And the house represented by him; + And could I but tincture the glorious draught + With his smiles, as I drank to him then, + And the jokes he has told and the laughs he has laughed, + I would fill up the goblet again-- + + And drink to the sweetheart who gave him good-by + With a tenderness thrilling him this + Very hour, as he thinks of the tear in her eye + That salted the sweet of her kiss; + To her truest of hearts and her fairest of hands + I would drink, with all serious prayers, + Since the heart she must trust is a Traveling Man's, + And as warm as the ulster he wears. + +{129} + +[Illustration: Who have met him with smiles and with cheer] + +{131} + + II + + I would drink to the wife, with the babe on her knee, + Who awaits his returning in vain-- + Who breaks his brave letters so tremulously + And reads them again and again! + And I'd drink to the feeble old mother who sits + At the warm fireside of her son + And murmurs and weeps o'er the stocking she knits, + As she thinks of the wandering one. + + I would drink a long life and a health to the friends + Who have met him with smiles and with cheer-- + To the generous hand that the landlord extends + To the wayfarer journeying here: + And I pledge, when he turns from this earthly abode + And pays the last fare that he can, + Mine Host of the Inn at the End of the Road + Will welcome the Traveling Man! + + + + +{132} + +[Illustration: Dan O'Sullivan--headpiece] + + DAN O'SULLIVAN + + Dan O'Sullivan: It's your + Lips have kissed "The Blarney," sure!-- + To be trillin' praise av me, + Dhrippin' swhate wid poethry!-- + Not that I'd not have ye sing-- + Don't lave off for anything-- + Jusht be aisy whilst the fit + Av me head shwells up to it! + + Dade and thrue, I'm not the man, + Whilst yer singin', loike ye can, + To cry shtop because ye've blesht + My songs more than all the resht:-- + I'll not be the b'y to ax + Any shtar to wane or wax, + Or ax any clock that's woun' + To run up inshtid av down! + +{133} + + Whist yez! Dan O'Sullivan!-- + Him that made the Irishman + Mixt the birds in wid the dough, + And the dew and mistletoe + Wid the whusky in the quare + Muggs av us--and here we air, + Three parts right, and three parts wrong, + Shpiked with beauty, wit and song! + +[Illustration: Dan O'Sullivan--tailpiece] + + + + +{134} + +[Illustration: My old friend--headpiece] + + MY OLD FRIEND + + You've a manner all so mellow, + My old friend, + That it cheers and warms a fellow, + My old friend, + Just to meet and greet you, and + Feel the pressure of a hand + That one may understand, + My old friend. + +{135} + + Though dimmed in youthful splendor, + My old friend, + Your smiles are still as tender, + My old friend, + And your eyes as true a blue + As your childhood ever knew, + And your laugh as merry, too, + My old friend. + + For though your hair is faded, + My old friend, + And your step a trifle jaded, + My old friend, + Old Time, with all his lures + In the trophies he secures, + Leaves young that heart of yours, + My old friend. + + And so it is you cheer me, + My old friend, + For to know you still are near me, + My old friend, + Makes my hopes of clearer light, + And my faith of surer sight, + And my soul a purer white, + My old friend. + + + + +{136} + +[Illustration: Old John Henry--headpiece] + + OLD JOHN HENRY + + Old John's jes' made o' the commonest stuff-- + Old John Henry-- + He's tough, I reckon,--but none too tough-- + Too tough though's better than not enough! + Says old John Henry. + He does his best, and when his best's bad, + He don't fret none, ner he don't git sad-- + He simply 'lows it's the best he had: + Old John Henry! + +{137} + +[Illustration: A smilin' face and hearty hand] + +{139} + + His doctern's jes' o' the plainest brand-- + Old John Henry-- + A smilin' face and a hearty hand + 'S religen 'at all folks understand, + Says old John Henry. + He's stove up some with the rhumatiz, + And they hain't no shine on them shoes o' his, + And his hair hain't cut--but his eye-teeth is: + Old John Henry! + + He feeds hisse'f when the stock's all fed-- + Old John Henry-- + And sleeps like a babe when he goes to bed-- + And dreams o' Heaven and home-made bread, + Says old John Henry. + He hain't refined as he'd ort to be + To fit the statutes o' poetry, + Ner his clothes don't fit him--but _he_ fits _me_: + Old John Henry! + + + + +{140} + + HER VALENTINE + + Somebody's sent a funny little valentine to me. + It's a bunch of baby-roses in a vase of filigree, + And hovering above them--just as cute as he can be-- + Is a fairy Cupid tangled in a scarf of poetry. + + And the prankish little fellow looks so knowing in his glee, + With his golden bow and arrow, aiming most unerringly + At a pair of hearts so labeled that I may read and see + That one is meant for "One Who Loves," and one is meant for me. + + But I know the lad who sent it! It's as plain as A-B-C!-- + For the roses they are _blushing_, and the vase stands _awkwardly_, + And the little god above it--though as cute as he can be-- + Can not breathe the lightest whisper of his burning love for me. + + + + +{141} + +[Illustration: Christmas greeting--headpiece] + + CHRISTMAS GREETING + + A word of Godspeed and good cheer + To all on earth, or far or near, + Or friend or foe, or thine or mine-- + In echo of the voice divine, + Heard when the star bloomed forth and lit + The world's face, with God's smile on it. + + + + +{142} + +[Illustration: Abe Martin--headpiece] + + ABE MARTIN + + Abe Martin!--dad-burn his old picture! + P'tends he's a Brown County fixture-- + A kind of a comical mixture + Of hoss-sense and no sense at all! + His mouth, like his pipe, 's allus goin', + And his thoughts, like his whiskers, is flowin', + And what he don't know ain't wuth knowin'-- + From Genesis clean to baseball! + +{143} + +[Illustration: His mouth, like his pipe, 's allus goin'] + +{145} + + The artist, Kin Hubbard, 's so keerless + He draws Abe 'most eyeless and earless, + But he's never yet pictured him cheerless + Er with fun 'at he tries to conceal,-- + Whuther on to the fence er clean over + A-rootin' up ragweed er clover, + Skeert stiff at some "Rambler" er "Rover" + Er newfangled automo_beel_! + + It's a purty steep climate old Brown's in; + And the rains there his ducks nearly drowns in + The old man hisse'f wades his rounds in + As ca'm and serene, mighty nigh + As the old handsaw-hawg, er the mottled + Milch cow, er the old rooster wattled + Like the mumps had him 'most so well throttled + That it was a pleasure to die. + + But best of 'em all's the fool-breaks 'at + Abe don't see at all, and yit makes 'at + Both me and you lays back and shakes at + His comic, miraculous cracks + Which makes him--clean back of the power + Of genius itse'f in its flower-- + This Notable Man of the Hour, + Abe Martin, The Joker on Facts. + + + + +{146} + +[Illustration: The little old poem that nobody reads--headpiece] + + THE LITTLE OLD POEM THAT NOBODY READS + + The little old poem that nobody reads + Blooms in a crowded space, + Like a ground-vine blossom, so low in the weeds + That nobody sees its face-- + Unless, perchance, the reader's eye + Stares through a yawn, and hurries by, + For no one wants, or loves, or heeds, + The little old poem that nobody reads. + +{147} + + The little old poem that nobody reads + Was written--where?--and when? + Maybe a hand of goodly deeds + Thrilled as it held the pen: + Maybe the fountain whence it came + Was a heart brimmed o'er with tears of shame, + And maybe its creed is the worst of creeds-- + The little old poem that nobody reads. + + But, little old poem that nobody reads, + Holding you here above + The wound of a heart that warmly bleeds + For all that knows not love, + I well believe if the old World knew + As dear a friend as I find in you, + That friend would tell it that all it needs + Is the little old poem that nobody reads. + +[Illustration: The little old poem that nobody reads--tailpiece] + + + + +{148} + +[Illustration: In the afternoon--headpiece] + + IN THE AFTERNOON + + You in the hammock; and I, near by, + Was trying to read, and to swing you, too; + And the green of the sward was so kind to the eye, + And the shade of the maples so cool and blue, + That often I looked from the book to you + To say as much, with a sigh. + + You in the hammock. The book we'd brought + From the parlor--to read in the open air,-- + Something of love and of Launcelot + And Guinevere, I believe, was there-- + But the afternoon, it was far more fair + Than the poem was, I thought. + +{149} + +[Illustration: You in the hammock; and I, near by] + +{151} + + You in the hammock; and on and on. + I droned and droned through the rhythmic stuff-- + But, with always a half of my vision gone + Over the top of the page--enough + To caressingly gaze at you, swathed in the fluff + Of your hair and your odorous "lawn." + + You in the hammock--and that was a year-- + Fully a year ago, I guess-- + And what do we care for their Guinevere + And her Launcelot and their lordliness!-- + You in the hammock still, and--Yes-- + Kiss me again, my dear! + +[Illustration: In the afternoon--tailpiece] + + + + +{152} + + BECAUSE + + Why did we meet long years of yore? + And why did we strike hands and say + "We will be friends and nothing more"; + Why are we musing thus to-day? + Because because was just because, + And no one knew just why it was. + + Why did I say good-by to you? + Why did I sail across the main? + Why did I love not heaven's own blue + Until I touched these shores again? + Because because was just because, + And you nor I knew why it was. + + Why are my arms about you now, + And happy tears upon your cheek? + And why my kisses on your brow? + Look up in thankfulness and speak! + Because because was just because, + And only God knew why it was. + + + + +{153} + +[Illustration: Herr Weiser--headpiece] + + HERR WEISER + + 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! + +{154} + + 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?-- + +{155} + +[Illustration: And lily and aster and columbine] + +{157} + + 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. + +[Illustration: Herr Weiser--tailpiece] + + + + +{158} + +[Illustration: A mother-song--headpiece] + + A MOTHER-SONG + + Mother, O mother! forever I cry for you, + Sing the old song I may never forget; + Even in slumber I murmur and sigh for you.-- + Mother, O mother, + Sing low, "Little brother, + Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet!" + +{159} + + Mother, O mother! the years are so lonely, + Filled but with weariness, doubt and regret! + Can't you come back to me--for to-night only, + Mother, my mother, + And sing, "Little brother, + Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet!" + + Mother, O mother! of old I had never + One wish denied me, nor trouble to fret; + Now--must I cry out all vainly forever,-- + Mother, sweet mother, + O sing, "Little brother, + Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet!" + + Mother, O mother! must longing and sorrow + Leave me in darkness, with eyes ever wet, + And never the hope of a meeting to-morrow? + Answer me, mother, + And sing, "Little brother, + Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet!" + + + + +{160} + +[Illustration: What "Old Santa" overheard--headpiece] + + WHAT "OLD SANTA" OVERHEARD + + _'Tis said old Santa Claus one time_ + _Told this joke on himself in rhyme:_ + One Christmas, in the early din + That ever leads the morning in, + I heard the happy children shout + In rapture at the toys turned out + Of bulging little socks and shoes-- + A joy at which I could but choose + To listen enviously, because + I'm always just "Old Santa Claus,"-- + But ere my rising sigh had got + To its first quaver at the thought, + It broke in laughter, as I heard + A little voice chirp like a bird,-- + +{161} + + "Old Santa's mighty good, I know. + And awful rich--and he can go + Down ever' chimbly anywhere + In all the world!--But I don't care, + _I_ wouldn't trade with _him_, and be + Old Santa Clause, and him be me, + Fer all his toys and things!--and _I_ + Know why, and bet you _he_ knows why!-- + They _wuz_ no Santa Clause when _he_ + Wuz ist a little boy like me!" + +[Illustration: What "Old Santa" overheard--tailpiece] + + + + +{162} + + THE STEPMOTHER + + First she come to our house, + Tommy run and hid; + And Emily and Bob and me + We cried jus' like we did + When Mother died,--and we all said + 'At we all wisht 'at we was dead! + + And Nurse she couldn't stop us; + And Pa he tried and tried,-- + We sobbed and shook and wouldn't look, + But only cried and cried; + And nen some one--we couldn't jus' + Tell who--was cryin' same as us! + + Our Stepmother! Yes, it was her, + Her arms around us all-- + 'Cause Tom slid down the banister + And peeked in from the hall.-- + And we all love her, too, because + She's purt' nigh good as Mother was! + + + + +{163} + +[Illustration: When old Jack died--headpiece] + + WHEN OLD JACK DIED + + When Old Jack died, we stayed from school (they said, + At home, we needn't go that day), and none + Of us ate any breakfast--only one, + And that was Papa--and his eyes were red + When he came round where we were, by the shed + Where Jack was lying, half-way in the sun + And half-way in the shade. When we begun + To cry out loud, Pa turned and dropped his head + And went away; and Mamma, she went back + Into the kitchen. Then, for a long while, + All to ourselves, like, we stood there and cried. + We thought so many good things of Old Jack, + And funny things--although we didn't smile-- + We couldn't only cry when Old Jack died. + +{164} + + When Old Jack died, it seemed a human friend + Had suddenly gone from us; that some face + That we had loved to fondle and embrace + From babyhood, no more would condescend + To smile on us forever. We might bend + With tearful eyes above him, interlace + Our chubby fingers o'er him, romp and race, + Plead with him, call and coax--aye, we might send + The old halloo up for him, whistle, hist, + (If sobs had let us) or, as wildly vain, + Snapped thumbs, called "Speak," and he had not replied; + We might have gone down on our knees and kissed + The tousled ears, and yet they must remain + Deaf, motionless, we knew--when Old Jack died. + +{165} + +[Illustration: We couldn't only cry when old Jack died] + +{167} + + When Old Jack died, it seemed to us, some way, + That all the other dogs in town were pained + With our bereavement, and some that were chained, + Even, unslipped their collars on that day + To visit Jack in state, as though to pay + A last, sad tribute there, while neighbors craned + Their heads above the high board fence, and deigned + To sigh "Poor Dog!" remembering how they + Had cuffed him, when alive, perchance, because, + For love of them he leaped to lick their hands-- + Now, that he could not, were they satisfied? + We children thought that, as we crossed his paws, + And o'er his grave, 'way down the bottom-lands, + Wrote "Our First Love Lies Here," when Old Jack died. + +[Illustration: When old Jack died--tailpiece] + + + + +{168} + +[Illustration: That night--headpiece] + + THAT NIGHT + + You and I, and that night, with its perfume and glory!-- + The scent of the locusts--the light of the moon; + And the violin weaving the waltzers a story, + Enmeshing their feet in the weft of the tune, + Till their shadows uncertain + Reeled round on the curtain, + While under the trellis we drank in the June. + +{169} + + Soaked through with the midnight the cedars were sleeping, + Their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright + Crystal, moon-smitten mists, where the fountain's heart, leaping + Forever, forever burst, full with delight; + And its lisp on my spirit + Fell faint as that near it + Whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. + + O your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses! + The breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay! + And the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses!-- + And the music!--in fancy I hear it to-day, + As I sit here, confessing + Our secret, and blessing + My rival who found us, and waltzed you away. + +[Illustration: That night--tailpiece] + + + + +{170} + +[Illustration: To Almon Keefer--headpiece] + + TO ALMON KEEFER + + INSCRIBED IN "TALES OF THE OCEAN" + + This first book that I ever knew + Was read aloud to me by you-- + Friend of my boyhood, therefore take + It back from me, for old times' sake-- + The selfsame "Tales" first read to me, + Under "the old sweet apple tree," + Ere I myself could read such great + Big words,--but listening all elate, + At your interpreting, until + Brain, heart and soul were all athrill + With wonder, awe, and sheer excess + Of wildest childish happiness. + +{171} + +[Illustration: Under "the old sweet apple tree"] + +{173} + + So take the book again--forget + All else,--long years, lost hopes, regret; + Sighs for the joys we ne'er attain, + Prayers we have lifted all in vain; + Tears for the faces seen no more, + Once as the roses at the door! + Take the enchanted book--And lo, + On grassy swards of long ago, + Sprawl out again, beneath the shade + The breezy old-home orchard made, + The veriest barefoot boy indeed-- + And I will listen as you read. + +[Illustration: To Almon Keefer--tailpiece] + + + + +{174} + +[Illustration: To the quiet observer--headpiece] + + TO THE QUIET OBSERVER + + AFTER HIS LONG SILENCE + + Dear old friend of us all in need + Who know the worth of a friend indeed, + How rejoiced are we all to learn + Of your glad return. + +{175} + + We who have missed your voice so long-- + Even as March might miss the song + Of the sugar-bird in the maples when + They're tapped again. + + Even as the memory of these + _Blended_ sweets,--the sap of the trees + And the song of the birds, and the old camp too, + We think of you. + + Hail to you, then, with welcomes deep + As grateful hearts may laugh or weep!-- + You give us not only the bird that sings, + But all good things. + +[Illustration: To the quiet observer--tailpiece] + + + + +{176} + +[Illustration: Reach your hand to me--headpiece] + + 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. + +{177} + +[Illustration: Reach your hand to me, my friend] + +{179} + + 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: Reach your hand to me--tailpiece] + + + + +{180} + +[Illustration: The dead joke and the funny man--headpiece] + + THE DEAD JOKE AND THE FUNNY MAN + + Long years ago, a funny man, + Flushed with a strange delight, + Sat down and wrote a funny thing + All in the solemn night; + And as he wrote he clapped his hands + And laughed with all his might. + For it was such a funny thing, + O, such a very funny thing, + This wonderfully funny thing, + He + Laughed + Outright. + +{181} + + And so it was this funny man + Printed this funny thing-- + Forgot it, too, nor ever thought + It worth remembering, + Till but a day or two ago. + (Ah! what may changes bring!) + He found this selfsame funny thing + In an exchange--"O, funny thing!" + He cried, "You dear old funny thing!" + And + Sobbed + Outright. + +[Illustration: The dead joke and the funny man--tailpiece] + + + + +{182} + +[Illustration: America's Thanksgiving--headpiece] + + AMERICA'S THANKSGIVING + + 1900 + + Father all bountiful, in mercy bear + With this our universal voice of prayer-- + The voice that needs must be + Upraised in thanks to Thee, + O Father, from Thy children everywhere. + + A multitudinous voice, wherein we fain + Wouldst have Thee hear no lightest sob of pain-- + No murmur of distress, + Nor moan of loneliness, + Nor drip of tears, though soft as summer rain. + +{183} + + And, Father, give us first to comprehend, + No ill can come from Thee; lean Thou and lend + Us clearer sight to see + Our boundless debt to Thee, + Since all Thy deeds are blessings, in the end. + + And let us feel and know that, being Thine, + We are inheritors of hearts divine, + And hands endowed with skill, + And strength to work Thy will, + And fashion to fulfilment Thy design. + + So, let us thank Thee, with all self aside, + Nor any lingering taint of mortal pride; + As here to Thee we dare + Uplift our faltering prayer, + Lend it some fervor of the glorified. + + We thank Thee that our land is loved of Thee + The blessed home of thrift and industry, + With ever-open door + Of welcome to the poor-- + Thy shielding hand o'er all abidingly. + +{184} + + E'en thus we thank Thee for the wrong that grew + Into a right that heroes battled to, + With brothers long estranged, + Once more as brothers ranged + Beneath the red and white and starry blue. + + Ay, thanks--though tremulous the thanks expressed-- + Thanks for the battle at its worst, and best-- + For all the clanging fray + Whose discord dies away + Into a pastoral-song of peace and rest. + + + + +{185} + +[Illustration: Old Indiany--headpiece] + + OLD INDIANY + + INTENDED FOR A DINNER OF THE INDIANA SOCIETY OF CHICAGO + + Old Indiany, 'course we know + Is first, and best, and _most_, also, + Of _all_ the States' whole forty-four:-- + She's first in ever'thing, that's shore!-- + And _best_ in ever'way as yet + Made known to man; and you kin bet + She's _most_, because she won't confess + She ever was, or will be, _less_! + And yet, fer all her proud array + Of sons, how many gits away!-- + +{186} + + No doubt about her bein' _great_, + But, fellers, she's a leaky State! + And them that boasts the most about + Her, them's the ones that's dribbled out. + Law! jes' to think of all you boys + 'Way over here in Illinoise + A-celebratin', like ye air, + Old Indiany, 'way back there + In the dark ages, so to speak, + A-prayin' for ye once a week + And wonderin' what's a-keepin' you + From comin', like you ort to do. + You're all a-lookin' well, and like + You wasn't "sidin' up the pike," + As the tramp-shoemaker said + When "he sacked the boss and shed + The blame town, to hunt fer one + Where they didn't work fer fun!" + Lookin' _extry_ well, I'd say, + Your old home so fur away.-- + +{187} + +[Illustration: But, fellers, she's a leaky State!] + +{189} + + Maybe, though, like the old jour., + Fun hain't all yer workin' fer. + So you've found a job that pays + Better than in them old days + You was on The Weekly Press, + Heppin' run things, more er less; + Er a-learnin' telegraph- + Operatin', with a half- + Notion of the tinner's trade, + Er the dusty man's that laid + Out designs on marble and + Hacked out little lambs by hand, + And chewed finecut as he wrought, + "Shapin' from his bitter thought" + Some squshed mutterings to say,-- + "Yes, hard work, and porer pay!" + Er you'd kind o' thought the far- + Gazin' kuss that owned a car + And took pictures in it, had + Jes' the snap you wanted--bad! + And you even wondered why + He kep' foolin' with his sky- + Light the same on shiny days + As when rainin'. ('T leaked always.) + +{190} + + Wondered what strange things was hid + In there when he shet the door + And smelt like a burnt drug store + Next some orchard-trees, i swan! + With whole roasted apples on! + That's why Ade is, here of late, + Buyin' in the dear old state,-- + So's to cut it up in plots + Of both town and country lots. + +[Illustration: Old Indiany--tailpiece] + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF FRIENDSHIP*** + + +******* This file should be named 23111.txt or 23111.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/1/1/23111 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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