I want to sing something—but this is all—

As though they were damp, and the echoes fall

Words will not say what I yearn to say—

But they stumble and fall in the path of the way

Simply take what the scrawl is worth—

On the ripening side of the great round earth

My dear old friends—It jes beats all,

So's ever'

line beats the

,

W'y, ever' fool-thing you putt down

A feller, readin' of 'em all,

It's all so comfortin' and good,

And git more sociabler, you know,

And jes smile on ye like the sun

In Aprile when the thaw's begun

It's all so good-old-fashioned like

Without no hidin' back o' fans

Ner sizin' how each-other's dressed—

"

Marthy Ellen's basque ben

Er "ef Steve's city-friend haint jes

Er "wears them-air blame eye-glasses

And so straight on,

,

Jes like our "comp'ny" wuz the best

That's why I like

friends like you,—

Ef I was built to live "

,"

Would be amongst the folks 'at kep'

And sorto' eechin' all the time

Sich folks, you know, I jes love so

Er couldn't even drap asleep

And ef we minded God, I guess

Jes like one fam'bly,—me and Pap

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

Say farewell, and let me go;

All the future can bestow

Say farewell, and let me go:

Stay your tear-drops ere they flow—

Say farewell, and let me go:

True as truth is, even so

The kind of a man for you and me!