Pipes OPan at Zekesbury | Page 6

friend's in his; and so was mine in mine, as even now my pen drops and I reach for it again.
I half regret joining the mad party that had gathered an hour later in the old law-office where these two graceless characters held almost nightly revel, the instigators and conniving hosts of a reputed banquet whose menu's range confined itself to herrings, or "blind robins," dried beef, and cheese, with crackers, gingerbread, and sometimes pie; the whole washed down with anything but
"----Wines that heaven knows when?Had sucked the fire of some forgotten sun,?And kept it through a hundred years of gloom?Still glowing in a heart of ruby."
But the affair was memorable. The old Professor was himself lured into it, and loudest in his praise of Hedrick's realistic art; and I yet recall him at the orgie's height, excitedly repulsing the continued slurs and insinuations of the clammy-handed Sweeney, who, still contending against the old man's fulsome praise of his more fortunate rival, at last openly declared that Hedrick was not_ a poet, _not a genius, and in no way worthy to be classed in the same breath with himself_--"the gifted but unfortunate _Sweeney, sir--the?unacknowledged author, sir--'y gad, sir!--of the two poems that held you spell-bound to-night!"
DOWN AROUND THE RIVER POEMS
DOWN AROUND THE RIVER.
Noon-time and June-time, down around the river!?Have to furse with 'Lizey Ann--but lawzy! I fergive her!?Drives me off the place, and says 'at all 'at she's a-wishin', Land o' gracious! time'll come I'll git enough o' fishin'! Little Dave, a-choppin' wood, never 'pears to notice;?Don't know where she's hid his hat, er keerin' where his coat is,-- Specalatin', more 'n like, he haint a-goin' to mind me,?And guessin' where, say twelve o'clock, a feller'd likely find me.
Noon-time and June-time, down around the river!?Clean out o' sight o' home, and skulkin' under kivver?Of the sycamores, jack-oaks, and swamp-ash and ellum--?Idies all so jumbled up, you kin hardly tell 'em!--?Tired_, you know, but _lovin' it, and smilin' jest to think 'at Any sweeter tiredness you'd fairly want to drink it.?Tired o' fishin'--tired o' fun--line out slack and slacker-- All you want in all the world's a little more tobacker!
Hungry, but a-hidin' it, er jes' a-not a-keerin':-?Kingfisher gittin' up and skootin' out o' hearin';?Snipes on the t'other side, where the County Ditch is,?Wadin' up and down the aidge like they'd rolled their britches! Old turkle on the root kindo-sorto drappin'?Intoo th' worter like he don't know how it happen!?Worter, shade and all so mixed, don't know which you'd orter Say, th' worter_ in the shadder--_shadder_ in the _worter!
Somebody hollerin'--'way around the bend in?Upper Fork--where yer eye kin jes' ketch the endin'?Of the shiney wedge o' wake some muss-rat's a-makin'?With that pesky nose o' his! Then a sniff o' bacon,?Corn-bread and 'dock-greens--and little Dave a-shinnin'?'Crost the rocks and mussel-shells, a-limpin' and a-grinnin', With yer dinner far ye, and a blessin' from the giver.?Noon-time and June-time down around the river!
KNEELING WITH HERRICK.
Dear Lord, to Thee my knee is bent.--?Give me content--?Full-pleasured with what comes to me,?What e'er it be:?An humble roof--a frugal board,?And simple hoard;?The wintry fagot piled beside?The chimney wide,?While the enwreathing flames up-sprout?And twine about?The brazen dogs that guard my hearth?And household worth:?Tinge with the ember's ruddy glow?The rafters low;?And let the sparks snap with delight,?As ringers might?That mark deft measures of some tune?The children croon:?Then, with good friends, the rarest few?Thou holdest true,?Ranged round about the blaze, to share?My comfort there,--?Give me to claim the service meet?That makes each seat?A place of honor, and each guest?Loved as the rest.
ROMANCIN'.
I' b'en a-kindo musin', as the feller says, and I'm?About o' the conclusion that they ain't no better time,?When you come to cipher on it, than the times we used to know When we swore our first "dog-gone-it" sorto solem'-like and low!
You git my idy, do you?--Little tads, you understand--?Jes' a wishin' thue and thue you that you on'y was a man.-- Yit here I am, this minute, even forty, to a day,?And fergittin' all that's in it, wishin' jes' the other way!
I hain't no hand to lectur' on the times, er dimonstrate?Whur the trouble is, er hector and domineer with Fate,--?But when I git so flurried, and so pestered-like and blue, And so rail owdacious worried, let me tell you what I do!--
I jes' gee-haw the hosses, and unhook the swingle-tree,?Whur the hazel-bushes tosses down their shadders over me, And I draw my plug o' navy, and I climb the fence, and set Jes' a-thinkin' here, 'y gravy! till my eyes is wringin'-wet!
Tho' I still kin see the trouble o' the present, I kin see-- Kindo like my sight was double--all the things that used to be; And the flutter o' the robin, and the teeter o' the wren?Sets the willer branches bobbin "howdy-do" thum Now to Then!
The deadnin' and the