Riley Songs of Home | Page 8

knew one yet,?When I had plenty in my purse,?To make the least invasion,--?As I, accordingly perverse,?Have courted no occasion.
Nor do I claim to comprehend?What Nature has in view?In giving us the very friend?To trust we oughtn't to.--?But so it is: The trusty gun?Disastrously exploded?Is always sure to be the one?We didn't think was loaded.
Our moaning is another's mirth,--?And what is worse by half,?We say the funniest thing on earth?And never raise a laugh:?Mid friends that love us overwell,?And sparkling jests and liquor,?Our hearts somehow are liable?To melt in tears the quicker.
We reach the wrong when most we seek?The right; in like effect,?We stay the strong and not the weak--?Do most when we neglect.--?Neglected genius--truth be said--?As wild and quick as tinder,?The more we seek to help ahead?The more we seem to hinder.
I've known the least the greatest, too--?And, on the selfsame plan,?The biggest fool I ever knew?Was quite a little man:?We find we ought, and then we won't--?We prove a thing, then doubt it,--?Know everything but when we don't?Know anything about it.
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A SCRAWL
I want to sing something--but this is all--?I try and I try, but the rhymes are dull?As though they were damp, and the echoes fall?Limp and unlovable.
Words will not say what I yearn to say--?They will not walk as I want them to,?But they stumble and fall in the path of the way?Of my telling my love for you.
Simply take what the scrawl is worth--?Knowing I love you as sun the sod?On the ripening side of the great round earth?That swings in the smile of God.
WRITIN' BACK TO THE HOME-FOLKS
My dear old friends--It jes beats all,?The way you write a letter?So's ever' last_ line beats the _first,?And ever' next-un's better!--?W'y, ever' fool-thing you putt down?You make so interestin',?A feller, readin' of 'em all,?Can't tell which is the best-un.
It's all so comfortin' and good,?'Pears-like I almost hear ye?And git more sociabler, you know,?And hitch my cheer up near ye?And jes smile on ye like the sun?Acrosst the whole per-rairies?In Aprile when the thaw's begun?And country couples marries.
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It's all so good-old-fashioned like?To talk_ jes like we're _thinkin',?Without no hidin' back o' fans?And giggle-un and winkin',?Ner sizin' how each-other's dressed--?Like some is allus doin',--?"Is_ Marthy Ellen's basque ben _turned?Er shore-enough a new-un!"--
Er "ef Steve's city-friend haint jes?'A leetle kindo'-sorto'"--?Er "wears them-air blame eye-glasses?Jes 'cause he hadn't ort to?"?And so straight on, dad-libitum,?Tel all of us feels, someway,?Jes like our "comp'ny" wuz the best?When we git up to come 'way!
That's why I like old friends like you,--?Jes 'cause you're so abidin'.--?Ef I was built to live "fer keeps,"?My principul residin'?Would be amongst the folks 'at kep'?Me allus thinkin' of 'em,?And sorto' eechin' all the time?To tell 'em how I love 'em.--
Sich folks, you know, I jes love so?I wouldn't live without 'em,?Er couldn't even drap asleep?But what I dreamp' about 'em,--?And ef we minded God, I guess?We'd all love one-another?Jes like one fam'bly,--me and Pap?And Madaline and Mother.
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LAUGHTER HOLDING BOTH HIS SIDES
Ay, thou varlet!--Laugh away!?All the world's a holiday!?Laugh away, and roar and shout?Till thy hoarse tongue lolleth out!?Bloat thy cheeks, and bulge thine eyes?Unto bursting; pelt thy thighs?With thy swollen palms, and roar?As thou never hast before!?Lustier! wilt thou! peal on peal!?Stiflest? Squat and grind thy heel--?Wrestle with thy loins, and then?Wheeze thee whiles, and whoop again!
THE SONG OF YESTERDAY
I
But yesterday?I looked away?O'er happy lands, where sunshine lay?In golden blots?Inlaid with spots?Of shade and wild forget-me-nots.
My head was fair?With flaxen hair,?And fragrant breezes, faint and rare,?And warm with drouth?From out the south,?Blew all my curls across my mouth.
And, cool and sweet,?My naked feet?Found dewy pathways through the wheat;?And out again?Where, down the lane,?The dust was dimpled with the rain.
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II
But yesterday:--?Adream, astray,?From morning's red to evening's gray,?O'er dales and hills?Of daffodils?And lorn sweet-fluting whippoorwills.
I knew nor cares?Nor tears nor prayers--?A mortal god, crowned unawares?With sunset--and?A scepter-wand?Of apple-blossoms in my hand!
The dewy blue?Of twilight grew?To purple, with a star or two?Whose lisping rays?Failed in the blaze?Of sudden fireflies through the haze.
III
But yesterday?I heard the lay?Of summer birds, when I, as they?With breast and wing,?All quivering?With life and love, could only sing.
My head was lent?Where, with it, blent?A maiden's o'er her instrument;?While all the night,?From vale to height,?Was filled with echoes of delight.
And all our dreams?Were lit with gleams?Of that lost land of reedy streams.?Along whose brim?Forever swim?Pan's lilies, laughing up at him.
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IV
But yesterday!...?O blooms of May,?And summer roses--where-away??O stars above;?And lips of love,?And all the honeyed sweets thereof!--
O lad and lass,?And orchard pass,?And briered lane, and daisied grass!?O gleam and gloom,?And woodland bloom,?And breezy breaths of all perfume!--
No more for me?Or mine shall be?Thy raptures--save in memory,--?No more--no more--?Till through the Door?Of Glory gleam the days of yore.
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SONG OF PARTING
Say farewell, and let me go;?Shatter every vow!?All the future can bestow?Will be welcome now!?And if this fair hand I touch?I have worshipped overmuch,?It