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RUBÁIYÁT OF DOC SIFERS BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

Other Books by James Whitcomb Riley

POEMS HERE AT HOME. NEGHBORLY POEMS. SKETCHES IN PROSE AND OCCASIONAL VERSES. AFTERWHILES. PIPES O' PAN (Prose and Verse). RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD. FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT. OLD-FASHIONED ROSES (English Edition). GREEN FIELDS AND RUNNING BROOKS. ARMAZINDY. A CHILD-WORLD. AN OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE.

RUBÁIYÁT OF DOC SIFERS

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY ---------------------------

ILLUSTRATED BY C. M. RELYEA

PUBLISHED BY THE CENTURY CO. NEW YORK M DCCC XC VII

THE DE VINNE PRESS.

DR. FRANKLIN W. HAYS

THE LOYAL CHUM OF MY LATEST YOUTH AND LIKE FRIEND AND COMRADE STILL WITH ALL GRATEFUL AFFECTION OF

THE AUTHOR.

_We found him in that Far-away_ _that yet to us seems near--_ _We vagrants of but yesterday_ _when idlest youth was here,--_ _When lightest song and laziest mirth_ _possessed us through and through,_ _And all the dreamy summer-earth_ _seemed drugged with morning dew:_

_When our ambition scarce had shot_ _a stalk or blade indeed:_ _Yours,--choked as in the garden-spot_ _you still deferred to "weed":_ _Mine,--but a pipe half-cleared of pith--_ _as now it flats and whines_ _In sympathetic cadence with_ _a hiccough in the lines._

_Aye, even then--O timely hour!--_ _the High Gods did confer_ _In our behalf:--And, clothed in power,_ _lo, came their Courier--_ _Not winged with flame nor shod with wind,--_ _but ambling down the pike_, _Horseback, with saddlebags behind,_ _and guise all human-like._

_And it was given us to see,_ _beneath his rustic rind,_ _A native force and mastery_ _of such inspiring kind,_ _That half unconsciously we made_ _obeisance.--Smiling, thus_ _His soul shone from his eyes and laid_ _its glory over us._

* * * * *

_Though, faring still that Far-away_ _that yet to us seems near,_ _His form, through mists of yesterday,_ _fades from the vision here,_ _Forever as he rides, it is_ _in retinue divine,--_ _The hearts of all his time are his,_ _with your hale heart and mine._

RUBÁIYÁT OF DOC SIFERS BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

RUBÁIYÁT OF DOC SIFERS

Ef you don't know DOC SIFERS I'll jes argy, here and now, You've bin a mighty little while about here, anyhow! 'Cause Doc he's rid these roads and woods-- er _swum_ 'em, now and then-- And practised in this neighberhood sence hain't no tellin' when!

In radius o' fifteen mile'd, all p'ints o' compass round, No man er woman, chick er child, er team, on top o' ground, But knows _him_--yes, and got respects and likin' fer him, too, Fer all his so-to-speak dee-fects o' genius showin' through!

III

Some claims he's absent-minded; some has said they wuz afeard To take his powders when he come and dosed 'em out, and 'peared To have his mind on somepin' else-- like County Ditch, er some New way o' tannin' mussrat-pelts, er makin' butter come.

He's cur'ous--they hain't no mistake about it!--but he's got Enough o' extry brains to make a _jury_--like as not. They's no _describin'_ Sifers,--fer, when all is said and done, He's jes _hisse'f Doc Sifers_--ner they hain't no other one!

Doc's allus sociable, polite, and 'greeable, you'll find-- Pervidin' ef you strike him right and nothin' on his mind,-- Like in some _hurry_, when they've sent fer Sifers _quick_, you see, To 'tend some sawmill-accident, er picnic jamboree;

Er when the lightnin' 's struck some hare- brained harvest-hand; er in Some 'tempt o' suicidin'--where they'd ort to try ag'in! I've _knowed_ Doc haul up from a trot and talk a' hour er two When railly he'd a-ort o' not a-stopped fer "_Howdy-do!_"

VII

And then, I've met him 'long the road, _a-lopin'_,--starin' straight Ahead,--and yit he never knowed me when I hollered "_Yate, Old Saddlebags!_" all hearty-like, er "_Who you goin' to kill?_" And he'd say nothin'--only hike on faster, starin' still!

VIII

I'd bin insulted, many a time, ef I jes wuzn't shore Doc didn't mean a thing. And I'm not tetchy any more Sence that-air day, ef he'd a-jes a-stopped to jaw with _me_, They'd bin a little dorter less in my own fambily!

Times _now_, at home, when Sifers' name comes up, I jes _let on_, You know, 'at I think Doc's to _blame_, the way he's bin and gone And disapp'inted folks--'Ll-_jee_-mun-_nee_! you'd ort to then Jes hear my wife light into me-- "_ongratefulest o' men!_"

'Mongst _all_ the women--mild er rough, splendifferous er plain, Er them _with_ sense, er not enough to come in out the rain,-- Jes ever' shape and build and style o' women, fat er slim-- They all like Doc, and got a smile and pleasant word fer _him_!

Ner hain't no horse I've ever saw but what'll neigh and try To sidle up to him, and paw, and sense him, ear-and-eye: Then jes a tetch o' Doc's old pa'm, to pat 'em, er to shove Along their nose--and they're as ca'm as any cooin' dove!

XII

And same with _dogs_,--take any breed, er strain, er pedigree, Er racial caste 'at can't concede no use fer you er me,-- They'll putt all predju-dice aside in _Doc's_ case and go in Kahoots with him, as satisfied as he wuz kith-and-kin!

XIII

And Doc's a wonder, trainin' pets!-- He's got a chicken-hawk, In kind o' half-cage, where he sets out in the gyarden-walk, And got that wild bird trained so tame, he'll loose him, and he'll fly Clean to the woods!--Doc calls his name-- and he'll come, by-and-by!

XIV

Some says no money down ud buy that bird o' Doc.--Ner no Inducement to the _bird_, says I, 'at _he'd_ let _Sifers_ go! And Doc _he_ say 'at _he's_ content-- long as a bird o' prey Kin 'bide _him_, it's a _compliment_, and takes it thataway.

But, gittin' back to _docterin'_--all the sick and in distress, And old and pore, and weak and small, and lone and motherless,-- I jes tell _you_ I 'preciate the man 'at 's got the love To "go ye forth and ministrate!" as Scriptur' tells us of.

XVI

_Dull_ times, Doc jes _mi_anders round, in that old rig o' his: And hain't no tellin' where he's bound ner guessin' where he is; He'll drive, they tell, jes thataway fer maybe six er eight Days at a stretch; and neighbers say he's bin clean round the State.

XVII

He picked a' old tramp up, one trip, 'bout eighty mile'd from here, And fetched him home and k-yored his hip, and kep' him 'bout a year; And feller said--in all _his_ ja'nts round this terreschul ball 'At no man wuz a _circumstance_ to _Doc_!--he topped 'em all!--

XVIII

Said, bark o' trees 's a' open book to Doc, and vines and moss He read like writin'--with a look knowed ever' dot and cross: Said, stars at night wuz jes as good 's a compass: said, he s'pose You couldn't lose Doc in the woods the darkest night that blows!

XIX

Said, Doc'll tell you, purty clos't, by underbresh and plants, How fur off _warter_ is,--and 'most perdict the sort o' chance You'll have o' findin' _fish_; and how they're liable to _bite_, And whether they're a-bitin' now, er only after night.

And, whilse we're talkin' _fish_,--I mind they formed a fishin'-crowd (When folks _could_ fish 'thout gittin' _fined_, and seinin' wuz allowed!) O' leadin' citizens, you know, to go and seine "Old Blue"-- But hadn't no big seine, and so-- w'y, what wuz they to do?...

XXI

And Doc he say he thought 'at _he_ could _knit_ a stitch er two-- "Bring the _materials_ to me-- 'at's all I'm astin' you!" And down he sets--six weeks, i jing! and knits that seine plum done-- Made corks too, brails and ever'thing-- good as a boughten one!

XXII

Doc's _public_ sperit--when the sick 's not takin' _all_ his time And he's got _some_ fer politics-- is simple yit sublime:-- He'll _talk_ his _principles_--and they air _honest_;--but the sly Friend strikes him first, election-day, he'd 'commodate, er die!

XXIII

And yit, though Doc, as all men knows, is square straight up and down, That vote o' his is--well, I s'pose-- the cheapest one in town;-- A fact 'at's sad to verify, as could be done on oath-- I've voted Doc myse'f--_And I was criminal fer both!_

XXIV

You kin corrupt the _ballot-box_--corrupt _yourse'f_, as well-- Corrupt _some_ neighbers,--but old Doc's as oncorruptible As Holy Writ. So putt a pin right there!--Let _Sifers_ be, I jucks! he wouldn't vote agin his own worst inimy!

XXV

When Cynthy Eubanks laid so low with fever, and Doc Glenn Told Euby Cynth 'ud haf to go-- they sends fer _Sifers_ then!... Doc sized the case: "She's starved," says he, "fer _warter_--yes, and _meat_! The treatment 'at she'll git from _me_ 's all she kin drink and eat!"

XXVI

He orders Euby then to split some wood, and take and build A fire in kitchen-stove, and git a young spring-chicken killed; And jes whirled in and th'owed his hat and coat there on the bed, And warshed his hands and sailed in that -air kitchen, Euby said,

XXVII

And biled that chicken-broth, and got that dinner--all complete And clean and crisp and good and hot as mortal ever eat! And Cynth and Euby both'll say 'at Doc'll git as good Meals-vittles up, jes any day, as any _woman_ could!

XXVIII

Time Sister Abbick tuk so bad with striffen o' the lung, P'tracted Meetin', where she had jes shouted, prayed and sung All winter long, through snow and thaw,-- when Sifers come, says he: "No, M'lissy; don't poke out your raw and cloven tongue at me!--

XXIX

"I know, without no symptoms but them _injarubber-shoes_ You promised me to never putt a fool-foot in ner use At purril o' your life!" he said. "And I won't save you _now_, Onless--here on your dyin' bed-- you consecrate your vow!"

XXX

Without a-claimin' _any creed_, Doc's rail religious views Nobody knows--ner got no _need_ o' knowin' whilse he choose To be heerd not of man, ner raise no loud, vainglorious prayers In crowded marts, er public ways, er--i jucks, _any_wheres!--

XXXI

'Less 'n it _is_ away deep down in his own heart, at night, Facin' the storm, when all the town 's a-sleepin' snug and tight-- Him splashin' hence from scenes o' pride and sloth and gilded show, To some pore sufferer's bedside o' anguish, don't you know!

XXXII

Er maybe dead o' _winter_--makes no odds to _Doc_,--he's got To face the weather ef it takes the hide off! 'cause he'll not _Lie_ out o' goin' and p'tend he's sick hisse'f--like _some_ 'At I could name 'at folks might send fer and they'd _never_ come!

XXXIII

Like pore Phin Hoover--when he goes to that last dance o' his! That Chris'mus when his feet wuz froze-- and Doc saved all they is Left of 'em--"'Nough," as Phin say now, "to _track_ me by, and be A adver_tise_ment, anyhow, o' what Doc's done fer me!--

XXXIV

"When _he_ come--knife-and-saw"--Phin say, "I knowed, ef I'd the spunk, 'At Doc 'ud fix me up _some_ way, ef nothin' but my _trunk_ Wuz left, he'd fasten _casters_ in, and have me, spick-and-span, A-skootin' round the streets ag'in as spry as any man!"

XXXV

Doc sees a patient's _got_ to quit-- he'll ease him down serene As dozin' off to sleep, and yit not dope him with mor-_pheen_.-- He won't tell _what_--jes 'lows 'at he has "airn't the right to sing 'O grave, where is thy victery! O death, where is thy sting!'"

XXXVI

And, mind ye now!--it's not in scoff and scorn, by long degree, 'At Doc gits things like that-un off: it's jes his _shority_ And total faith in Life to Come,-- w'y, "from that _Land o' Bliss_," He says, "we'll haf to chuckle some, a-lookin' back at this!"

XXXVII

And, still in p'int, I mind, one _night o' 'nitiation_ at Some secert lodge, 'at Doc set right down on 'em, square and flat, When they mixed up some Scriptur' and wuz _funnin'_-like--w'y, he Lit in 'em with a rep'imand 'at ripped 'em, A to Z!

XXXVIII

And onc't--when gineral loafin'-place wuz old Shoe-Shop--and all The gang 'ud git in there and brace their backs ag'inst the wall And _settle_ questions that had went onsettled long enough,-- Like "wuz no Heav'n--ner no torment"-- _jes talkin' awful rough!_

XXXIX

There wuz Sloke Haines and old Ike Knight and Coonrod Simmes--all three Ag'inst the Bible and the Light, and scoutin' Deity. "_Science_," says Ike, "it _dimonstrates_-- it takes nobody's word-- _Scriptur'_ er not,--it _'vestigates_ ef sich things could occurred!"

Well, Doc he heerd this,--he'd drapped in a minute, fer to git A tore-off heel pegged on agin,-- and, as he stood on it And stomped and grinned, he says to Ike, "I s'pose now, purty soon Some lightnin'-bug, indignant-like, 'll ''vestigate' the moon!...

XLI

"No, Ike," says Doc, "this world hain't saw no brains like yourn and mine With sense enough to grasp a law 'at takes a brain divine.-- I've bared the thoughts of brains in doubt, and felt their finest pulse,-- And mortal brains jes won't turn out omnipotent results!"

XLII

And Doc he's got respects to spare the _rich_ as well as _pore_-- Says he, "I'd turn no _millionaire_ onsheltered from my door."-- Says he, "What's wealth to him in quest o' _honest_ friends to back And love him fer _hisse'f_?--not jes because he's made his jack!"

XLIII

And childern.--_Childern?_ Lawzy-day! Doc _worships_ 'em!--You call Round at his house and _ast_ 'em!-- they're a-_swarmin'_ there--that's all!-- They're in his _Li_b'ry--in best room-- in kitchen--fur and near,-- In office too, and, I p'sume, his operatin'-cheer!

XLIV

You know they's men 'at _bees_ won't sting?-- They's plaguey _few_,--but Doc He's one o' _them_.--And same, i jing! with _childern_;--they jes flock Round Sifers _natchurl_!--in his lap, and in his pockets, too, And in his old fur mitts and cap, and _heart_ as warm and true!

XLV

It's cur'ous, too,--'cause Doc hain't got no childern of his own-- 'Ceptin' the ones he's tuk and brought up, 'at's bin left alone. And orphans when their father died, er mother,--and Doc he Has he'pped their dyin' satisfied.-- "The child shall live with me

XLVI

"And Winniferd, my wife," he'd say, and stop right there, and cle'r His th'oat, and go on thinkin' way _some_ mother-hearts down here Can't never feel _their own_ babe's face a-pressin' 'em, ner make Their naked breasts a restin'-place fer any baby's sake.

XLVII

Doc's _Li_b'ry--as he calls it,--well, they's ha'f-a-dozen she'ves Jam-full o' books--I couldn't tell _how_ many--count yourse'ves! _One whole she'f's_ Works on Medicine! and most the rest's about First Settlement, and Indians in here,--'fore we driv 'em out.--

XLVIII

And Plutarch's Lives--and life also o' Dan'el Boone, and this- Here Mungo Park, and Adam Poe-- jes all the _lives_ they is! And Doc's got all the _novels_ out,-- by Scott and Dickison And Cooper.--And, I make no doubt, he's read 'em ever' one!

XLIX

Onc't, in his office, settin' there, with crowd o' eight er nine Old neighbers with the time to spare, and Doc a-feelin' fine, A man rid up from Rollins, jes fer Doc to write him out Some blame p'scription--done, I guess, in minute, nigh about.--

And _I_ says, "Doc, you 'pear so spry, jes write me that recei't You have fer bein' _happy_ by,-- fer that 'u'd shorely beat Your _medicine_!" says I.--And quick as _s'cat!_ Doc turned and writ And handed me: "Go he'p the sick, and putt your heart in it."

And then, "A-talkin' furder 'bout that line o' thought," says he, "Ef we'll jes do the work cut out and give' to you and me, We'll lack no joy, ner appetite, ner all we'd ort to eat, And sleep like childern ever' night-- as puore and ca'm and sweet."

LII

Doc _has_ bin 'cused o' _offishness_ and lack o' talkin' free And extry friendly; but he says, "I'm _'feard_ o' talk," says he,-- "I've got," he says, "a natchurl turn fer talkin' fit to kill.-- The best and hardest thing to learn is trick o' keepin' still."

LIII

Doc _kin_ smoke, and I s'pose he _might_ drink licker--jes fer fun. He says, "_You_ smoke, _you_ drink all right; but _I_ don't--neether one"-- Says, "I _like_ whiskey--'good old rye'-- but like it in its place, Like that-air warter in your eye, er nose there on your face."

LIV

Doc's bound to have his joke! The day he got that off on me I jes had sold a load o' hay at "Scofield's Livery," And tolled Doc in the shed they kep' the hears't in, where I'd hid The stuff 'at got me "out o' step," as Sifers said it did.

Doc hain't, to say, no "_rollin' stone_," and yit he hain't no hand Fer '_cumulatin_'.--_Home_'s his own, and scrap o' farmin'-land-- Enough to keep him out the way when folks is tuk down sick The suddentest--'most any day they want him 'special quick.

LVI

And yit Doc loves his practice; ner don't, wilful, want to slight No call--no matter who--how fur away--er day er night.-- He loves his work--he loves his friends-- June, Winter, Fall, and Spring: His _lovin'_--facts is--never ends; he loves jes _ever_'thing....

LVII

'Cept--_keepin' books_. He never sets down no accounts.--He hates, The worst of all, collectin' debts-- the worst, the more he waits.-- I've knowed him, when at last he _had_ to dun a man, to end By makin' him a loan--and mad he hadn't more to lend.

LVIII

When Pence's Drug Store ust to be in full blast, they wuz some Doc's patients got things frekantly there, charged to him, i gum!-- Doc run a bill there, don't you know, and allus when he squared, He never questioned nothin',--so he had his feelin's spared.

LIX

Now sich as that, I hold and claim, hain't _'scusable_--it's not _Perfessional!_--It's jes a shame 'at Doc hisse'f hain't got No better _business_-sense! That's why lots 'd respect him more, And not give him the clean go-by fer _other_ doctors. Shore!

This-here Doc _Glenn_, fer instance; er this little jack-leg _Hall_;-- They're _business_--folks respects 'em fer their _business_ more 'n all They ever knowed, er ever _will_, 'bout _medicine_.--Yit they Collect their money, k-yore er kill.-- They're _business_, anyway!

LXI

You ast Jake Dunn;--he's worked it out in _figgers_.--He kin show _Stastistics_ how Doc's airnt about _three_ fortunes in a row,-- Ever' ten-year' hand-runnin' straight-- _three_ of 'em--_thirty_ year' 'At Jake kin count and 'lucidate o' Sifers' practice here.

LXII

Yit--"Praise the Lord," says Doc, "we've got our little home!" says he-- "(It's railly _Winniferd's_, but what she owns, she sheers with me.) We' got our little gyarden-spot, and peach- and apple-trees, And stable, too, and chicken-lot, and eighteen hive' o' bees."

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LXIII

_You_ call it anything you please, but it's _witchcraft_--the power 'At Sifers has o' handlin' bees!-- He'll watch 'em by the hour-- Mix right amongst 'em, mad and hot and swarmin'!--yit they won't Sting _him_, er _want_ to--_'pear_ to not,-- at least I know they _don't_.

LXIV

With _me_ and bees they's no _p'tense_ o' social-bility-- A dad-burn bee 'u'd climb a fence to git a whack at _me_! I s'pose no thing 'at's _got_ a sting is railly satisfied It's _sharp_ enough, ontel, i jing! he's honed it on my hide!

LXV

And Doc he's allus had a knack _inventin'_ things.--Dee-vised A windlass wound its own se'f back as it run down: and s'prised Their new hired girl with _clothes-line_, too, and _clothes-pins_, all in _one_: Purt'-nigh all left fer _her_ to do wuz git her _primpin'_ done!

LXVI

And onc't, I mind, in airly Spring, and tappin' sugar-trees, Doc made a dad-burn little thing to sharpen _spiles_ with--these- Here wood'-spouts 'at the peth's punched out, and driv' in where they bore The auger-holes. He sharpened 'bout _a million_ spiles er more!

LXVII

And Doc's the first man ever swung a _bucket_ on a tree Instid o' _troughs_; and first man brung _grained_ sugar--so's 'at he Could use it fer his coffee, and fer cookin', don't you know.-- Folks come clean up from Pleasantland 'fore they'd _believe_ it, though!

LXVIII

And all Doc's stable-doors _on_locks and locks _theirse'ves_--and gates The same way;--all rigged up like clocks, with pulleys, wheels, and weights,-- So, 's Doc says, "drivin' _out_, er _in_, they'll _open_; and they'll _then_, All quiet-like, shet up ag'in like little gentlemen!"

LXIX

And Doc 'ud made a mighty good _detective_.--Neighbers all Will testify to _that_--er _could_, ef they wuz legal call: His theories on any crime is worth your listenin' to.-- And he has hit 'em, many a time, 'long 'fore established true.

LXX