Whilst little Paul, convalescing, was staying
Close indoors, and his boisterous classmates paying
Him visits, with fresh school-notes and surprises,—
With nettling pride they sprung the word "Athletic,"
With much advice and urgings sympathetic
Anent "Athletic exercises." Wise as
Lad might look, quoth Paul: "I've pondered o'er that
'Athletic,' but I mean to take, before that,
Downstairic and outdooric exercises."
VI
BORN TO THE PURPLE
[W.M.]
Most-like it was this kingly lad
Spake out of the pure joy he had
In his child-heart of the wee maid
Whose eerie beauty sudden laid
A spell upon him, and his words
Burst as a song of any bird's:—
A peerless Princess thou shalt be,
Through wit of love's rare sorcery:
To crown the crown of thy gold hair
Thou shalt have rubies, bleeding there
Their crimson splendor midst the marred
Pulp of great pearls, and afterward
Leaking in fainter ruddy stains
Adown thy neck-and-armlet-chains
Of turquoise, chrysoprase, and mad
Light-frenzied diamonds, dartling glad
[159]Swift spirts of shine that interfuse
As though with lucent crystal dews
That glance and glitter like split rays
Of sunshine, born of burgeoning Mays
When the first bee tilts down the lip
Of the first blossom, and the drip
Of blended dew and honey heaves
Him blinded midst the underleaves.
For raiment, Fays shall weave for thee—
Out of the phosphor of the sea
And the frayed floss of starlight, spun
With counterwarp of the firm sun—
A vesture of such filmy sheen
As, through all ages, never queen
Therewith strove truly to make less
One fair line of her loveliness.
Thus gowned and crowned with gems and gold,
Thou shalt, through centuries untold,
Rule, ever young and ever fair,
As now thou rulest, smiling there.
OLD MAN WHISKERY-WHEE-KUM-WHEEZE
Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze
Lives 'way up in the leaves o' trees.
An' wunst I slipped up-stairs to play
In Aunty's room, while she 'uz away;
An' I clumbed up in her cushion-chair
An' ist peeked out o' the winder there;
An' there I saw—wite out in the trees—
Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze!
An' Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze
Would bow an' bow, with the leaves in the breeze,
An' waggle his whiskers an' raggledy hair,
An' bow to me in the winder there!
An' I 'd peek out, an' he'd peek in
An' waggle his whiskers an' bow ag'in,
Ist like the leaves'u'd wave in the breeze—
Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze!
An' Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze,
Seem-like, says to me: "See my bees
A-bringin' my dinner? An' see my cup
O' locus'-blossoms they've plum' filled up?"
An' "Um-yum, honey!" wuz last he said,
An' waggled his whiskers an' bowed his head;
An' I yells, "Gimme some, won't you, please,
Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze?"
LITTLE-GIRL-TWO-LITTLE-GIRLS
I'm twins, I guess, 'cause my Ma say
I'm two little girls. An' one o' me
Is Good little girl; an' th'other 'n' she
Is Bad little girl as she can be!
An' Ma say so, 'most ever' day.
An' she's the funniest Ma! 'Cause when
My Doll won't mind, an' I ist cry,
W'y, nen my Ma she sob an' sigh,
An' say, "Dear Good little girl, good-bye!—
Bad little girl's comed here again!"
Last time 'at Ma act' thataway,
I cried all to myse'f awhile
Out on the steps, an' nen I smile,
An' git my Doll all fix' in style,
An' go in where Ma's at, an' say:
"Morning to you, Mommy dear!
Where's that Bad little girl wuz here?
Bad little girl's goned clean away,
An' Good little girl's comed back to stay."
A GUSTATORY ACHIEVEMENT
Last Thanksgivin'-dinner we
Et at Granny's house, an' she
Had—ist like she alluz does—
Most an' best pies ever wuz.
Canned black burry-pie an' goose
Burry, squshin'-full o' juice;
An' rozburry—yes, an' plum—
Yes, an' churry-pie—um-yum!
Peach an' punkin, too, you bet.
Lawzy! I kin taste 'em yet!
Yes, an' custard-pie, an' mince!
An'—I—ain't—et—no—pie—since!
CLIMATIC SORCERY
When frost's all on our winder, an' the snow's
All out-o'-doors, our "Old-Kriss"-milkman goes
A-drivin' round, ist purt'-nigh froze to death,
With his old white mustache froze full o' breath.
But when it's summer an' all warm ag'in,
He comes a-whistlin' an' a-drivin in
Our alley, 'thout no coat on, ner ain't cold,
Ner his mustache ain't white, ner he ain't old.
A PARENT REPRIMANDED
Sometimes I think 'at Parents does
Things ist about as bad as us—
Wite 'fore our vurry eyes, at that!
Fer one time Pa he scold' my Ma
'Cause he can't find his hat;
An' she ist cried, she did! An' I
Says, "Ef you scold my Ma
Ever again an' make her cry,
Wy, you sha'n't be my Pa!"
An' nen he laugh' an' find his hat
Ist wite where Ma she said it's at!
THE TREASURE OF THE WISE MAN
O the night was dark and the night was late,
And the robbers came to rob him;
And they picked the locks of his palace-gate,
The robbers that came to rob him—
They picked the locks of his palace-gate,
Seized his jewels and gems of state,
His coffers of gold and his priceless plate,—
The robbers that came to rob him.
But loud laughed he in the morning red!—
For of what had the robbers robbed him?—
Ho! hidden safe, as he slept in bed,
When the robbers came to rob him,—
They robbed him not of a golden shred
Of the childish dreams in his wise old head—
"And they're welcome to all things else," he said,
When the robbers came to rob him.