For the fancy came and it will not go,
That if I were to die--I am strong,
’Tis only a fancy of mine, you know.
Only a fancy (you take my breath
With your passionate kisses) people die,
And happiness is no bar to death
Or we never need fear him, you nor I.
Only a fancy, so don’t look grave,
We’ll be together for years to come,
But, listen, would you be good and brave
If Death, God’s reaper, came into our home?
Would you remember the full glad years,
And remembering them forget to weep?
We have been happy, no need for tears
If one of us, dear one, should fall asleep.
Living without me would break your heart,
“O sorrow of joys remembered!” You cry,
Keep all the brightness though far apart,
Explain my meaning--well dear, I will try.
One summer morning I heard a lark
Singing to heaven, a sweet-throated bird,
_One winter night I was glad in the dark,
Because of the glorious song I had heard_.
“The joy of my life,” I’ve heard you say,
“With her love and laughter, her smiles and tears”--
Let these be the lark’s song, sweet and gay,
That will sound in your heart through all the years.
For tell me, dear one, what is love worth
If it cannot crowd in the time ’tis given
To two like us, on this grey old earth,
Such bliss as will last till we reach heaven?
So, if I should die just bend your head,
And kiss my lips as I lie at rest,
Whisper, _I love you living or dead
Always and ever I love you best_.
Why talk of it now? A woman’s whim,
We are whimsical creatures, as you know--
Look yonder, the twilight soft and dim
Comes hurrying over the world below.
[Illustration: Decorative image unavailable.]
Truth upon Honor
Pa’s brother is a bachelor, but not a crusty one,
He’s got the very nicest home and lives there all alone;
At Christmas-time he buys me up most everything I want,
Because I look, ’so people say, just like my pretty aunt.
She’s just as nice as she can be, and long, long time ago
Pa’s brother was, or tried to be, this same Aunt Jessie’s beau,
For once I heard pa say to ma, “Your sister was to blame,”
Then ma, she flared right up and said, “She did right, just the same.”
“Your brother, stubborn fellow, he would break a woman’s heart,
I tell you I was glad for one they thought it best to part!”
I thought of this the other day, when our relations came
To eat the Xmas turkey, and more things than I could name.
For Aunt’s face got as red as fire when Uncle Ned came in,
“Peace and goodwill at Xmas time,” said pa, with such a grin.
“I wish,” said I to brother Tom, “they’d have a wedding day,
What is the good of two nice folks sulking around this way?
I’d be a bridesmaid for them, Tom, and wouldn’t that be fun,
Then we’d go there for holidays as soon as school was done.”
“Don’t you believe such stuff of him,” said brother Tom to me,
“Why, everyone that falls in love is silly as can be!
Put all their good clothes on at once--strut ’round an’ show off so,
The folks that have to live with them get sick of it you know.”
Sho! don’t tell up such stuff as that about our Uncle Ned,
If you don’t mind your p’s and q’s I’ll tell him what you said.
But I found out that I was right--I’ll tell you how it came,
Truth upon Honor, we did play--it’s just a lovely game,
You ask the queerest questions and they answer out quite free,
And if they tell what isn’t true, it’s wicked, don’t you see?
Tom asked me was I awful mad (he can be dreadful mean)
When a great deal prettier hat than mine went by on Mabel Green?
I had to tell, but never mind, I paid him back again,
I made him own he copied sums from clever cousin Ben.
Aunt Jess she laughed, and Uncle Ned said ’twas a jolly game,
He changed his tune though pretty quick when round his own turn came.
“Now tell the truth,” I said to him--“not maybe or I guess--
Ain’t you just heaps and heaps in love with our dear Auntie Jess?
At first he scowled at Tom and me as mad as any hoe,
And Tom he laughed and said, “Own up! you used to be her beau.”
At this he looked and looked at her, and thought her nice I guess
For right out quick he said, “It’s true--I love your dear Aunt Jess.”
We clapped our hands. Now ’tis your turn to question Auntie here,
But if he didn’t--mean old thing--just whisper in her ear.
Said she, “This is a pretty game, which everyone should know.”
“I wish we’d played it, dear,” he said, “a long, long time ago.”
Then I winked hard at brother Tom, and he winked back at me,
And we sneaked off and left them there as jolly as could be.
I know a thing that I won’t tell--not to Tom anyway,
I’ll be a bridesmaid all so fine before next Xmas day.
Elspeth’s Daughter-in-law
I don’t know what spell came over us,
That’s over father and me,
But two silly things we must have been
To let the boy have his way.
But Sammie was all the boy we had,
An’ he grew so big an’ tall--
We had no girl, I didn’t mind that,
For I don’t care for girls at all.
An’ that great fellow, six feet I know,
An’ an arm I couldn’t span,
Was handsome--I may as well own up
That I like a handsome man.
Now father declares the trouble came
To fill our life to the brim
By reason of Sam’s good looks--he _thinks_
The boy should look just like him.
Not that I’d hurt his pride for the world,
But I’d feel most awful bad
To see father’s features one by one
A-showing up on our lad.
Sam got to college all right enough,
When he came home I declare
He told me about wonderful things
He’d had to learn while up there.
He showed me gloves all padded out,
The cap an’ the scanty trews,
An’ the mask of wire that hid his face,
The day that they beat the Blues.
I had my doubts about Sammie too,
For fear ’twould spoil the lad,
An’ widow Dobbs kept throwing out hints
That he was going to the bad.
She’s awful quick with her nods and winks,
An’ a body can’t forget,
Why, she made me do a thing one day
That I’m mortal shamed of yet.
She’d been telling up a big long yarn
Of boy’s deceit, an’ of things
That mothers discover unawares--
An’ get just desperate stings.
It vexed me so much, that up I went
An’ opened our Sammie’s trunk,
Though if he had come an’ caught me there--
Well, I know I should have sunk.
I searched through all that big pile of stuff,
An’ I tried each little key,
But there was nothing in that big trunk
That his mother daren’t see.
Then I went over to widow Dobbs,
An’ we had a little spat,
My boy was hiding nothing from me,
Thank God! for a boy like that.
But I must tell you about his wife;
You see we had always planned
That he’d marry Eliza Jane Jones--
She owns a good bit of land.
She isn’t good looking, I’ll own up,
But in all your mortal life,
You never saw a better
Nor thriftier farmer’s wife.
’Twas a shock, I tell you, when he wrote
(Father said I was to blame)
That he’d bring a bride from the city--
Daisy, he said, was her name.
Well, I’ll never forget how I felt
When I first saw Sammie’s wife,
I shook hands--I couldn’t have kissed her
Had it been to save my life.
You see, I’d a thought of the work,
Plenty to do I can tell,
An’ I thought when Sammie’s wife came home
That I’d try a shirking spell.
An’ when I saw her, my heart was full
Of vexation an’ surprise,
I thought of hearty Eliza Jane Jones
Till the tears came in my eyes.
She looked like a picture standing there,
A-smoothing her soft hair down,
It made me feel hateful, just to know
I was homely, old, and brown.
It vexed me just to look at her hands,
So dimpled, an’ soft, an’ white--
I took Mr. Sammie to my room
An’ told him it wasn’t right.
“She is no worker,” I said to him,
“An’ drones are bad in a hive,”
He laughed, “Oh we are a sleepy lot,
Daisy will keep us alive!”
“I know how ’twill be,” I said to him,
She’ll want new things every day
In machinery, to do up the work
In the quick new-fangled way.
“But I won’t have it,” I said to him,
“I have my way of going,
An’ it’s girls that can’t do anything
That want to do the showing.”
He took it good--thinks I to myself
I’ll finish while I’m in it,
“There’s one thing, Sammie, I’ve never done,
An’ I’m old now to begin it.
I’m old to wait on your lady wife,
An’ stick to it day by day,
An’ listen to high-falutin’ talk,
An’ feel I’m just in the way.
An’ another thing,” I said to him,
Then stopped, an’ got red an’ hot,
“You needn’t think your babies I’ll mind,
Because I tell you I’ll not.”
I wish you could have heard the boy laugh,
He shook the things on the shelf,
“The dear little mammie, shan’t be ’bused”
He said, “I’ll mind ’em myself.”
All this talk I tell just to show
What a fickle thing I am,
An’ how little my words really meant
When I said all this to Sam.
It was only some four years ago,
An’ stowed in the big back hall
There’s machines for almost everything,
Leaning their backs to the wall.
My daughter-in-law ’tends to it all--
A good stout girl at her hand--
If I say it myself, you can’t find
Better kept house in the land.
The books, an’ papers, an’ flowers seem
Part of her every-day life,
An’ no doctor can ’tend to a sprain
Better than our Sammie’s wife.
Now, I like to sit here in my chair
An’ watch her happy an’ free,
An’ I like--yes, I’ll own up--I like
Baby to climb on my knee.
Poor old father is sillier yet,
A slave to three-year-old Jim,
My, he grins an’ looks proud as can be
Because the boy looks like him!
Oh, we all have our worries I know,
We find each blemish an’ flaw,
But there’s one perfect thing in this world--
Sam’s wife, _my daughter-in-law_.
Cold Water
My niece from Boston, Minerva Bleak,
So learned they call her Madam,
With all her ’ologies, French and Greek,
With all the queer things she styles antique,
Came to see me, an’ Adam.
My brother, he wrote before she came,
A patient I send to you,
Just chase the cobwebs out of her brain,
And make her happy and sweet again,
Just now, she’s horribly blue.
Blue! I cried, ’tis a serious thing,
System all out of kilter!
But Adam laughed when he saw me bring,
Herbs I had gathered late in the spring,
To brew into a philter.
I tell you it was a big surprise
When I got a look at her.
Blue, there was nothing blue but her eyes,
They were as blue as the summer skies,
Adam laughed,--but no matter.
She hadn’t been there many weeks
When I began to worry.
A girl should have roses in her cheeks,
Should sing, and laugh sometimes when she speaks,
And not be sad and sorry.
I knew what was wrong, and told her so,
Studyin’, and contrivin’
Over things she had no call to know,
An’ quite neglectin’ the life an’ glow
That keep the soul a-thrivin’.
She had books on science, an’ books on art,
An’ books on things still higher,
Wonderful things that gave you a start,
But not a line, or a word, on the heart
Full of its vain desire.
Well, she’d been there a month--maybe more,
’Twas dreadful stormy weather,
She’d just been telling me o’er and o’er
Quaint little stories she’d told before
As we sat there together.
When Martha came showin’ in young Blaine,
(Most as tall as our ceilin,’
Such a splendid fellow, good and plain,
With no great beauty to make him vain,
But lots of sense an’ feelin.’)
I introduced him all right I know--
I like him--so does Adam,
But Minerva’s face went white as snow,
And he said, bowing his head, just so--
“We’ve met, have we not, madam?”
A nice romance right under my nose,
I watched it growin’, growin,’
Along through the weeks of frosts and snows
(Oh, I wasn’t blind you may suppose)
And bitter north wind blowin’.
For a man from Boston came along,
(Such an elegant fellow)
Played the guitar, wore his hair quite long,
Talked to Minerva of art and song
In tones so soft an’ mellow.
Before long I had my feelings stirred,
And vowed he should’nt have her.
I listened long, but I never heard
From his mouth one good sensible word,
Nothin’ but rank palaver.
And to watch that girl, who seemed so wise,
Listenin’ to all he told her,
It made the tears come into my eyes,
An’ my strong temper get on the rise.
But when the man got bolder.
And they talked together, an’ agreed
God’s word was but a fable,
A good, well-written story, indeed,
Why I got right up, as I had need,
Stand this? I wasn’t able.
I told him he had better take
His views where they were needed,
Minerva said ’twas a great mistake,
Said sometimes her heart did fairly ache
To know as much as he did.
Then I got Minerva off alone,
Ah, she was dear, the sinner,
Said I, if old Satan gets this one
It won’t be because I haven’t done
All that I could to win her.
So I told her things tender and true,
Told her of love undying,
Told her of peace that my own soul knew,
Till pride died out of her eyes of blue
An’ she fell softly crying.
“You were a babe when your mother died,
And I stood there beside her,
Can you believe that your mother lied
When she kissed your face?” I said, an’ cried
“The Christ will keep an’ guide her,”
“Will bring my little one home to me,
As gates of pearl were lifting.”
Your mother was very dear to me.
Now on what big mysterious sea
Would you have her soul drifting.
Next day there came through the bitter cold
Two offers, or what I suppose was.
One in an envelope square and bold,
The other all perfume, white and gold,
Tied up in hot-house roses.
They all went skating that afternoon
Down on the frozen river.
When I think how they came back so soon,
Minerva half-drowned, an’ in a swoon,
It always makes me shiver.
’Twas all for the best, that bath so cold,
Proved a boon an’ a blessin’,
Down went Blaine after her, strong an’ bold,
While safe to shore the other one rolled.
O ’twas a wholesome lesson!
We sat there a happy crowd that night,
Though winter winds were blowin’,
Minerva, a little weak and white,
Her left hand hid in the preacher’s right,
Her eyes all soft an’ glowin’.
Would you believe it, the other came,
Full of presumes and supposes,
Hoped nobody held he was to blame,
I carried him down, though, just the same,
His bunch of hot-house roses.
He bowed himself off with such an air,
Not a bit overpowered,
And Adam said anything was fair,
With a man who went around with such hair,
And proved himself a coward.
My brother wrote to me yesterday,
“How _did_ you cure my daughter,
She’s not the same girl that went away.”
But when I ask her, she’ll laugh and say,
“The cure! O just cold water!”
[Illustration: Decorative image unavailable.]
Long Time Ago
There’s been a fair in our nearest town,
A wonderful show of new things,
And Ebenezer and I went down
Just to see the folks, and view things.
I wore the bonnet I got last week,
This stylish city-made bonnet,
And was sorry I did after all,
For the dust settled so upon it.
I wouldn’t have Ebenezer know,
Or Parson, for all creation,
But I don’t feel right unless I’m dressed
In the very latest fashion.
There’s sister Thomson, a good old maid,
It’s many a hint she’s given,
I’d feel more at home in Vanity Fair
Than I would in the courts of heaven.
She vexes me with her saintly ways,
I never need try to please her,
And I can guess at the reason too,
She wanted my Ebenezer.
“She’s delicate,” she said to him once
When he was at first my lover,
“No sort for a farmer lad to choose,
Sakes alive! there’s nothing of her.”
“She won’t stand life’s toil and turmoil long!”
She says of late, so regretful,
Well, she may get Ebenezer yet
For all men are so forgetful.
But never mind, I went to the fair,
I wish, my dear, you had been there,
For I know you would never forget
Such pretty sights as were seen there.
Now, since I saw the marvel myself,
I know you’ll surely believe it,
They’re fooling ’round with the lightning grim,
Have made a plan to deceive it.
Just think of taking some bits of steel,
And a rod that’s far from pliant,
To put on the roof of a house or barn,
That it can glare ’round defiant.
Ebenezer fancied it, I know,
And wanted to make the bargain,
But kind of dreaded what I would say,
And also good elder Largain.
“’Twould be right pleasant” he said to me,
“When the storm was at its labors,
To have something standing up like that
To scare it off to the neighbors.”
“Ebenezer,” I said, very sharp,
For I didn’t like his spirit,
“God holds all the lightning in His hand,
Then why should His children fear it?
“You just let that precious thing alone,
Let it alone, Ebenezer,
And if we’re struck when the lightning comes,
Why never mind, Ebenezer.”
Then there were machines for everything,
But I would feel like a ninny,
Setting all day on a cushioned chair,
Spinning rolls on that queer jinny.
They wanted to sell me one right off,
I shook my head, “not at present,”
I’ll do my work in the good old way,
Though it isn’t quite so pleasant.
I’ve done my share of the big farm’s work,
Spinning, and weaving, and baking;
Though sometimes only the good Lord knows
How my back and legs are aching.
And whatever sister Thomson says,
She can’t make fun of my working,
And if I like fashion most too well,
’Tisn’t the fashion of shirking.
There’s awful smart people in the world,
You’d think so if you had been there,
Such signs and wonders on every hand,
At the fair was to be seen, dear.
And I wore my very newest things,
Maybe I shouldn’t have done it,
But truth is truth, and I’ll own right up,
I look quite nice in this bonnet.
I wouldn’t have Ebenezer know,
Or parson, for all creation,
But I don’t feel right unless I’m dressed
In the very latest fashion.
[Illustration: Decorative image unavailable.]
The Meanest Man
“Tell you why I never got married?
I’d as lief as not, Sarah Ann,
I never but once got an offer,
And then--well, he wasn’t the man.
Tell the story--yes, if you wish it,
You cannot remember I know
When the widow Wemp an’ her youngster
Moved in the old cottage below.
That spring was as backward as could be,
The nights and the days were so cold,
Not a bird had a bit of a song
But the robins, saucy and bold.
Did you ever try to be kind to
A kitten that scarcely could stand?
Half starved, or half drowned, or half frozen,
Yet it flies from your outstretched hand?
Well, ’twas just so with that little one
When I tried to get him one day,
My heart kind of melted watching him
At his solemn unchildish play.
A bran new idea, but struck me
As I washed the dishes that night,
I sauntered down to the cottage
With a basket, not very light.
Oh, but that was a comfortless room!
The widow so thin and white
Was rocking the boy, and a dimness
Came over my eyes at the sight.
I walked right up to her and kissed her,
Says I, little woman I know
Things haven’t gone well with you lately,
Or you wouldn’t look as you do.
But, says I, if a friend can help you,
And ease up your trouble a mite,
Why, I’ll just sit down here beside you,
An’ we’ll talk it over to-night.
She took my two hands and she held them,
The big tears ran down her pale cheek,
“Oh, I’m lonely, she cried, and foolish,”
Says I, you are worn out an’ weak.
What has this to do with my offer?
Be patient, my dear Sarah Ann,
If you’d listened a minute longer
You’d have caught a glimpse of the man.
For right there all creaking and groaning,
Beneath some rough limbs meant for wood,
In front of the door of the cottage
Old Abner Green’s big waggon stood.
An’ Abner came in without knocking,
A-nodding to her, an’ to me,
“What, two of us here! well there’s nothin’
Like havin’ good neighbors,” said he.
“Now, I’ve heard you’re mazin’ poor, Missus,
An’ I reckon it must be true,
Speak out to us fully and freely,
It maybe I can help you through.”
She told him--I sat there and listened
To a story of hopes and fears,
Of poverty, sorrow, and heartbreak,
Till I scarce could see for the tears.
She talked of the home of her childhood,
Of parents and friends kind and true,
Of seasons o’erflowing with pleasure,
Of skies that were cloudless and blue,
Of the meadows so fragrant with clover,
With bees in each down-drooping head,
Of the noisy stream rushing onward,
Away to its pebble-lined bed.
Of the homely affection abounding,
The work that was duty’s sweet call,
Of the church that stood on the hillside,
Of the graves--the end of it all.
“I’m waiting,” her voice broke a little,
“For one perfect summer to come,
Not the stifling summers of cities,
But one of the summers of home.
And before the frost touches the flowers”--
Here she held the boy to her breast--
“I’ll be sleeping too soundly to care,
And this dear one--ah, God knows best!”
Now I’m not soft-hearted as some folks,
But an odd catch came in my breath,
She seemed such a lone little creature,
With nothing to wait for but death.
But Abner, he rose up and buttoned
His great coat, and smiled so benign,
“Missus,” he said, “I’ve brought you some wood,
There’s no kinder heart--hem! than mine.”
Them limbs may be just a little tough,
But no fire is tougher, I guess,
Don’t thank me, I know what you mean now,
An’ feelin’s are hard to express.
Perhaps I’ve a penny about me
To give to that boy that’s asleep,
Don’t let him be foolish at spendin’,
But teach him to hold and to keep.
There’s likely some things at the house, too,
I can either send up, or bring,
Don’t thank me, you’re poor but you’re honest,
_You can work it out in the spring_.
I’m not so well-grounded as some folks,
An’ I took a tumble from grace,
To talk of her working to pay him,
An’ death in her pretty young face.
He followed me out as I started--
My head pretty high--down the lane,
But just as I came to the thorn-hedge,
He caught up, and said he, “Now Jane,
I’ve something special to tell you,
You needn’t go hurrying through;
Say, I’m thinkin’ of marryin’, Jane,
An’ the lucky woman is--_you_.
Yes, I might have found one much younger
If I had gone lookin’ around,
But you can keep house, little woman,
With the best of them, I’ll be bound.
Looks shan’t count when I hunt a woman,
Said I to myself, long ago,
That she’s savin’, an’ strong, an’ hearty,
Is all that I hanker to know.
I tell you what, Jane, such a bargain
Won’t travel your road every day,
I’ve fixed my affections right on you,
When shall it be? What do you say?
We’re both of us steady an’ honest,
We’ve both got a fair share of pelf,
I’ve looked quite a while for a woman
Who thinks just about like myself.”
I gasped, Sarah Ann, for a minute,
Was never so shamed in my life,
And old Abner Green stood there leering,
Quite certain, that I’d be his wife.
“Do I look so anxious to marry?”
Said I, with lips scornfully curled,
“That you really think I’d go partners
With the meanest man in the world?
So you’ve waited to find you a wife,
With a mind like your own, you say,
But you’ll not find one so mean as that,
If you wait till the Judgment Day.”
Then I turned me about and left him
Staring up at the silent stars,
But I fancied I caught some swear words
As I hurried over the bars.
Sarah Ann, that’s all the offer
This Aunt Jane of yours ever had;
’Tis as well, I’m content to live here
With my own little bright-eyed lad.
Yes, his mother died in the springtime--
Here he comes with his hair all curled
And face like a peach--now isn’t he
The loveliest thing in the world!
[Illustration: Decorative image unavailable.]