807 THE COURTIN' GOD makes sech nights, all white an' still Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown A fireplace filled the room's one side The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung, The ole queen's-arm thet gran❜ther Young The very room, coz she was in, Seemed warm f'om floor to ceilin', An' she looked full ez rosy agin 'T was kin' o' kingdom-come to look He was six foot o' man, A 1, None could n't quicker pitch a ton He 'd sparked it with full twenty gals, Hed squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em, Fust this one, an' then thet, by spellsAll is, he could n't love 'em. But long o' her his veins 'ould run She thought no v'ice hed sech a swing My! when he made Ole Hunderd ring, An' she'd blush scarlit, right in prayer, Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some! She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu, He kin' o' l'itered on the mat, An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk Ez though she wished him furder, An' on her apples kep' to work, Parin' away like murder. "You want to see my Pa, I s'pose?' 'Wal... no . . I come dasignin' ''To see my Ma? She's sprinklin' clo'es Agin to-morror's i'nin'.' To say why gals acts so or so, He stood a spell on one foot fust, Says he, 'I'd better call agin;' When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, For she was jes' the quiet kind Whose naturs never vary, Like streams that keep a summer mind Snowhid in Jenooary. The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued Too tight for all expressin', Tell mother see how metters stood, An' gin 'em both her blessin'. Then her red come back like the tide An' all I know is they was cried 808 ODE RECITED AT THE HARVARD COMMEMORATION July 21, 1865 WEAK-WINGED is song, I Nor aims at that clear-ethered height Bringing our robin's-leaf to deck their hearse II To-day our Reverend Mother welcomes back No science peddling with the names of things, Far from Death's idle gulf that for the many waits, With that clear fame whose memory sings In manly hearts to come, and nerves them and dilates: Nor such thy teaching, Mother of us all! Not such the trumpet-call Of thy diviner mood, That could thy sons entice From happy homes and toils, the fruitful nest Into War's tumult rude; But rather far that stern device The sponsors chose that round thy cradle stood The VERITAS1 that lurks beneath The letter's unprolific sheath, Life of whate'er makes life worth living, Seed-grain of high emprise, immortal food, One heavenly thing whereof earth hath the giving. III Many loved Truth, and lavished life's best oil With the cast mantle she hath left behind her. Many with crossed hands sighed for her; Those love her best who to themselves are true, Not in the ashes of the burnt-out mind, But beautiful, with danger's sweetness round her Breathes its awakening breath Into the lifeless creed, They saw her plumed and mailed, With sweet, stern face unveiled, And all-repaying eyes, look proud on them in death. 1 Veritas, the motto on the seal of Harvard University, inscribed upon three open books. |