Chapter 4

And sit you down beside me, And put yourself at ease-- I'll trouble you to slide me That wine decanter, please; The path is kind o' mazy Where my fancies have to go, And my heart gets sort o' lazy On the journey--don't you know?

Let me see--when I was twenty-- It's a lordly age, my boy, When a fellow's money's plenty, And the leisure to enjoy-- And a girl--with hair as golden As--THAT; and lips--well--quite As red as THIS I'm holdin' Between you and the light.

And eyes and a complexion-- Ah, heavens!--le'-me-see-- Well,--just in this connection,-- DID YOU LOCK THAT DOOR FOR ME? Did I start in recitation My past life to recall? Well, THAT'S an indication I am purty tight--that's all!

THE SPEEDING OF THE KING'S SPITE

A king--estranged from his loving Queen By a foolish royal whim-- Tired and sick of the dull routine Of matters surrounding him-- Issued a mandate in this wise.-- "THE DOWER OF MY DAUGHTER'S HAND I WILL GIVE TO HIM WHO HOLDS THIS PRIZE, THE STRANGEST THING IN THE LAND."

But the King, sad sooth! in this grim decree Had a motive low and mean;-- 'Twas a royal piece of chicanery To harry and spite the Queen; For King though he was, and beyond compare, He had ruled all things save one-- Then blamed the Queen that his only heir Was a daughter--not a son.

The girl had grown, in the mother's care, Like a bud in the shine and shower That drinks of the wine of the balmy air Till it blooms into matchless flower; Her waist was the rose's stem that bore The flower--and the flower's perfume-- That ripens on till it bulges o'er With its wealth of bud and bloom.

And she had a lover--lowly sprung,-- But a purer, nobler heart Never spake in a courtlier tongue Or wooed with a dearer art: And the fair pair paled at the King's decree; But the smiling Fates contrived To have them wed, in a secrecy That the Queen HERSELF connived--

While the grim King's heralds scoured the land And the countries roundabout, Shouting aloud, at the King's command, A challenge to knave or lout, Prince or peasant,--"The mighty King Would have ye understand That he who shows him the strangest thing Shall have his daughter's hand!"

And thousands flocked to the royal throne, Bringing a thousand things Strange and curious;--One, a bone-- The hinge of a fairy's wings; And one, the glass of a mermaid queen, Gemmed with a diamond dew, Where, down in its reflex, dimly seen, Her face smiled out at you.

One brought a cluster of some strange date, With a subtle and searching tang That seemed, as you tasted, to penetrate The heart like a serpent's fang; And back you fell for a spell entranced, As cold as a corpse of stone, And heard your brains, as they laughed and danced And talked in an undertone.

One brought a bird that could whistle a tune So piercingly pure and sweet, That tears would fall from the eyes of the moon In dewdrops at its feet; And the winds would sigh at the sweet refrain, Till they swooned in an ecstacy, To waken again in a hurricane Of riot and jubilee.

One brought a lute that was wrought of a shell Luminous as the shine Of a new-born star in a dewy dell,-- And its strings were strands of wine That sprayed at the Fancy's touch and fused, As your listening spirit leant Drunken through with the airs that oozed From the o'ersweet instrument.

One brought a tablet of ivory Whereon no thing was writ,-- But, at night--and the dazzled eyes would see Flickering lines o'er it,-- And each, as you read from the magic tome, Lightened and died in flame, And the memory held but a golden poem Too beautiful to name.

Till it seemed all marvels that ever were known Or dreamed of under the sun Were brought and displayed at the royal throne, And put by, one by one Till a graybeard monster came to the King-- Haggard and wrinkled and old-- And spread to his gaze this wondrous thing,-- A gossamer veil of gold.--

Strangely marvelous--mocking the gaze Like a tangle of bright sunshine, Dipping a million glittering rays In a baptism divine: And a maiden, sheened in this gauze attire-- Sifting a glance of her eye-- Dazzled men's souls with a fierce desire To kiss and caress her and--die.

And the grim King swore by his royal beard That the veil had won the prize, While the gray old monster blinked and leered With his lashless, red-rimmed eyes, As the fainting form of the princess fell, And the mother's heart went wild, Throbbing and swelling a muffled knell For the dead hopes of her child.

But her clouded face with a faint smile shone, As suddenly, through the throng, Pushing his way to the royal throne, A fair youth strode along, While a strange smile hovered about his eyes, As he said to the grim old King:-- "The veil of gold must lose the prize; For _I_ have a stranger thing."

He bent and whispered a sentence brief; But the monarch shook his head, With a look expressive of unbelief-- "It can't be so," he said; "Or give me proof; and I, the King, Give you my daughter's hand,-- For certes THAT IS a stranger thing-- THE STRANGEST THING IN THE LAND!"

Then the fair youth, turning, caught the Queen In a rapturous caress, While his lithe form towered in lordly mien, As he said in a brief address:-- "My fair bride's mother is this; and, lo, As you stare in your royal awe, By this pure kiss do I proudly show A LOVE FOR A MOTHER-IN-LAW!"

Then a thaw set in the old King's mood, And a sweet Spring freshet came Into his eyes, and his heart renewed Its love for the favored dame: But often he has been heard to declare That "he never could clearly see How, in the deuce, such a strange affair Could have ended so happily!"

JOB WORK

"Write me a rhyme of the present time". And the poet took his pen And wrote such lines as the miser minds Hide in the hearts of men.

He grew enthused, as the poets used When their fingers kissed the strings Of some sweet lyre, and caught the fire True inspiration brings,

And sang the song of a nation's wrong-- Of the patriot's galling chain, And the glad release that the angel, Peace, Has given him again.

He sang the lay of religion's sway, Where a hundred creeds clasp hands And shout in glee such a symphony That the whole world understands.

He struck the key of monopoly, And sang of her swift decay, And traveled the track of the railway back With a blithesome roundelay--

Of the tranquil bliss of a true love kiss; And painted the picture, too, Of the wedded life, and the patient wife, And the husband fond and true;

And sang the joy that a noble boy Brings to a father's soul, Who lets the wine as a mocker shine Stagnated in the bowl.

And he stabbed his pen in the ink again, And wrote with a writhing frown, "This is the end." "And now, my friend, You may print it--upside down!"

PRIVATE THEATRICALS

A quite convincing axiom Is, "Life is like a play"; For, turning back its pages some Few dog-eared years away, I find where I Committed my Love-tale--with brackets where to sigh.

I feel an idle interest To read again the page; I enter, as a lover dressed, At twenty years of age, And play the part With throbbing heart, And all an actor's glowing art.

And she who plays my Lady-love Excels!--Her loving glance Has power her audience to move-- I am her audience.-- Her acting tact, To tell the fact, "Brings down the house" in every act.

And often we defy the curse Of storms and thunder-showers, To meet together and rehearse This little play of ours-- I think, when she "Makes love" to me, She kisses very naturally!

. . . . . .

Yes; it's convincing--rather-- That "Life is like a play": I am playing "Heavy Father" In a "Screaming Farce" to-day, That so "brings down The house," I frown, And fain would "ring the curtain down."

PLAIN SERMONS

I saw a man--and envied him beside-- Because of this world's goods he had great store; But even as I envied him, he died, And left me envious of him no more.

I saw another man--and envied still-- Because he was content with frugal lot; But as I envied him, the rich man's will Bequeathed him all, and envy I forgot.

Yet still another man I saw, and he I envied for a calm and tranquil mind That nothing fretted in the least degree-- Until, alas! I found that he was blind.

What vanity is envy! for I find I have been rich in dross of thought, and poor In that I was a fool, and lastly blind For never having seen myself before!

"TRADIN' JOE"

I'm one o' these cur'ous kind o' chaps You think you know when you don't, perhaps! I hain't no fool--ner I don't p'tend To be so smart I could rickommend Myself fer a CONGERSSMAN my friend!-- But I'm kind o' betwixt-and-between, you know,-- One o' these fellers 'at folks call "slow." And I'll say jest here I'm kind o' queer Regardin' things 'at I SEE and HEAR,-- Fer I'm THICK o' hearin' SOMETIMES, and It's hard to git me to understand; But other times it hain't, you bet! Fer I don't sleep with both eyes shet!

I've swapped a power in stock, and so The neighbers calls me "Tradin' Joe"-- And I'm goin' to tell you 'bout a trade,-- And one o' the best I ever made:

Folks has gone so fur's to say 'At I'm well fixed, in a WORLDLY way, And BEIN' so, and a WIDOWER, It's not su'prisin', as you'll infer, I'm purty handy among the sect-- Widders especially, rickollect! And I won't deny that along o' late I've hankered a heap fer the married state-- But some way o' 'nother the longer we wait The harder it is to discover a mate.

Marshall Thomas,--a friend o' mine, Doin' some in the tradin' line, But a'most too YOUNG to know it all-- On'y at PICNICS er some BALL!-- Says to me, in a banterin' way, As 'we was a-loadin' stock one day,-- "You're a-huntin' a wife, and I want you to see My girl's mother, at Kankakee!-- She hain't over forty--good-lookin' and spry, And jest the woman to fill your eye! And I'm a-goin' there Sund'y,--and now," says he, "I want to take you along with ME; And you marry HER, and," he says, "by 'shaw I You'll hev me fer yer son-in-law!" I studied a while, and says I, "Well, I'll First have to see ef she suits my style; And ef she does, you kin bet your life Your mother-in-law will be my wife!"

Well, Sundy come; and I fixed up some-- Putt on a collar--I did, by gum!-- Got down my "plug," and my satin vest-- (You wouldn't know me to see me dressed!-- But any one knows ef you got the clothes You kin go in the crowd wher' the best of 'em goes!) And I greeced my boots, and combed my hair Keerfully over the bald place there; And Marshall Thomas and me that day Eat our dinners with Widder Gray And her girl Han'! * * *

Well, jest a glance O' the widder's smilin' countenance, A-cuttin' up chicken and big pot-pies, Would make a man hungry in Paradise! And passin' p'serves and jelly and cake 'At would make an ANGEL'S appetite ACHE!-- Pourin' out coffee as yaller as gold-- Twic't as much as the cup could hold-- La! it was rich!--And then she'd say, "Take some o' THIS!' in her coaxin' way, Tell ef I'd been a hoss I'd 'a' FOUNDERED, shore, And jest dropped dead on her white-oak floor!

Well, the way I talked would 'a' done you good, Ef you'd 'a' been there to 'a' understood; Tel I noticed Hanner and Marshall, they Was a-noticin' me in a cur'ous way; So I says to myse'f, says I, "Now, Joe, The best thing fer you is to jest go slow!" And I simmered down, and let them do The bulk o' the talkin' the evening through.

And Marshall was still in a talkative gait When he left, that evening--tolable late. "How do you like her?" he says to me; Says I, "She suits, to a 'T-Y-TEE'! And then I ast how matters stood With him in the OPPOSITE neighberhood? "Bully!" he says; "I ruther guess I'll finally git her to say the 'yes.' I named it to her to-night, and she Kind o' smiled, and said 'SHE'D SEE'-- And that's a purty good sign!" says he: "Yes" says I, "you're ahead o' ME!" And then he laughed, and said, "GO IN! And patted me on the shoulder ag'in.

Well, ever sense then I've been ridin' a good Deal through the Kankakee neighberhood; And I make it convenient sometimes to stop And hitch a few minutes, and kind o' drop In at the widder's, and talk o' the crop And one thing o' 'nother. And week afore last The notion struck me, as I drove past, I'd stop at the place and state my case-- Might as well do it at first as last!

I felt first-rate; so I hitched at the gate, And went up to the house; and, strange to relate, MARSHALL THOMAS had dropped in, TOO.-- "Glad to see you, sir, how do you do?" He says, says he! Well--it SOUNDED QUEER:

And when Han' told me to take a cheer, Marshall got up and putt out o' the room-- And motioned his hand fer the WIDDER to come. I didn't say nothin' fer quite a spell, But thinks I to myse'f, "There's a dog in the well!" And Han' SHE smiled so cur'ous at me-- Says I, "What's up?" And she says, says she, "Marshall's been at me to marry ag'in, And I told him 'no,' jest as you come in." Well, somepin' o' 'nother in that girl's voice Says to me, "Joseph, here's your choice!" And another minute her guileless breast Was lovin'ly throbbin' ag'in my vest!-- And then I kissed her, and heerd a smack Come like a' echo a-flutterin' back, And we looked around, and in full view Marshall was kissin' the widder, too! Well, we all of us laughed, in our glad su'prise, Tel the tears come A-STREAMIN' out of our eyes! And when Marsh said "'Twas the squarest trade That ever me and him had made," We both shuck hands, 'y jucks! and swore We'd stick together ferevermore. And old Squire Chipman tuck us the trip: And Marshall and me's in pardnership!

DOT LEEDLE BOY

Ot's a leedle Gristmas story Dot I told der leedle folks-- Und I vant you stop dot laughin' Und grackin' funny jokes!-- So help me Peter-Moses! Ot's no time for monkey-shine, Ober I vast told you somedings Of dot leedle boy of mine!

Ot vas von cold Vinter vedder, Ven der snow vas all about-- Dot you have to chop der hatchet Eef you got der sauerkraut! Und der cheekens on der hind leg Vas standin' in der shine Der sun shmile out dot morning On dot leedle boy of mine.

He vas yoost a leedle baby Not bigger as a doll Dot time I got acquaintet-- Ach! you ought to heard 'im squall!-- I grackys! dot's der moosic Ot make me feel so fine Ven first I vas been marriet-- Oh, dot leedle boy of mine!

He look yoost like his fader!-- So, ven der vimmen said, "Vot a purty leedle baby!" Katrina shake der head. . . . I dink she must 'a' notice Dot der baby vas a-gryin', Und she cover up der blankets Of dot leedle boy of mine.

Vel, ven he vas got bigger, Dot he grawl und bump his nose, Und make der table over, Und molasses on his glothes-- Dot make 'im all der sveeter,-- So I say to my Katrine, "Better you vas quit a-shpankin' Dot leedle boy of mine!"

No more he vas older As about a dozen months He speak der English language Und der German--bote at vonce! Und he dringk his glass of lager Like a Londsman fon der Rhine-- Und I klingk my glass togeder Mit dot leedle boy of mine!

I vish you could 'a' seen id-- Ven he glimb up on der chair Und shmash der lookin'-glasses Ven he try to comb his hair Mit a hammer!--Und Katrina Say, "Dot's an ugly sign!" But I laugh und vink my fingers At dot leedle boy of mine.

But vonce, dot Vinter morning, He shlip out in der snow Mitout no stockin's on 'im.-- He say he "vant to go Und fly some mit der birdies!" Und ve give 'im medi-cine Ven he catch der "parrygoric"-- Dot leedle boy of mine!

Und so I set und nurse 'im, Vile der Gristmas vas come roun', Und I told 'im 'bout "Kriss Kringle," How he come der chimbly down: Und I ask 'im eef he love 'im Eef he bring 'im someding fine? "Nicht besser as mein fader," Say dot leedle boy of mine.--

Und he put his arms aroun' me Und hug so close und tight, I hear der gclock a-tickin' All der balance of der night! . . . Someding make me feel so funny Ven I say to my Katrine, "Let us go und fill der stockin's Of dot leedle boy of mine."

Vell.--Ve buyed a leedle horses Dot you pull 'im mit a shtring, Und a leedle fancy jay-bird-- Eef you vant to hear 'im sing You took 'im by der topknot Und yoost blow in behine-- Und dot make much spectakel For dot leedle boy of mine!

Und gandies, nuts und raizens-- Und I buy a leedle drum Dot I vant to hear 'im rattle Ven der Gristmas morning come! Und a leedle shmall tin rooster Dot vould crow so loud und fine Ven he sqveeze 'im in der morning, Dot leedle boy of mine!

Und--vile ve vas a-fixin'-- Dot leedle boy vake out! I t'ought he been a-dreamin' "Kriss Kringle" vas about,-- For he say--"DOT'S HIM!--I SEE 'IM MIT DER SHTARS DOT MAKE DER SHINE!" Und he yoost keep on a-gryin'-- Dot leedle boy of mine,-- Und gottin' vorse und vorser-- Und tumble on der bed! So--ven der doctor seen id, He kindo' shake his head, Und feel his pulse--und visper, "Der boy is a-dyin'." You dink I could BELIEVE id?-- DOT LEEDLE BOY OF MINE?

I told you, friends--dot's someding, Der last time dot he speak Und say, "GOOT-BY, KRISS KRINGLE!" --Dot make me feel so veak I yoost kneel down und drimble, Und bur-sed out a-gryin', "MEIN GOTT, MEIN GOTT IN HIMMEL!-- DOT LEEDLE BOY OF MINE!" . . . . . . . . . .

Der sun don't shine DOT Gristmas! . . . Eef dot leedle boy vould LIFF'D-- No deefer-en'! for HEAVEN vas His leedle Gristmas gift! Und der ROOSTER, und der GANDY, Und me--und my Katrine-- Und der jay-bird--is awaiting For dot leedle boy of mine.

I SMOKE MY PIPE

I can't extend to every friend In need a helping hand-- No matter though I wish it so, 'Tis not as Fortune planned; But haply may I fancy they Are men of different stripe Than others think who hint and wink,-- And so--I smoke my pipe!

A golden coal to crown the bowl-- My pipe and I alone,-- I sit and muse with idler views Perchance than I should own:-- It might be worse to own the purse Whose glutted bowels gripe In little qualms of stinted alms; And so I smoke my pipe.

And if inclined to moor my mind And cast the anchor Hope, A puff of breath will put to death The morbid misanthrope That lurks inside--as errors hide In standing forms of type To mar at birth some line of worth; And so I smoke my pipe.

The subtle stings misfortune flings Can give me little pain When my narcotic spell has wrought This quiet in my brain: When I can waste the past in taste So luscious and so ripe That like an elf I hug myself; And so I smoke my pipe.

And wrapped in shrouds of drifting clouds, I watch the phantom's flight, Till alien eyes from Paradise Smile on me as I write: And I forgive the wrongs that live, As lightly as I wipe Away the tear that rises here; And so I smoke my pipe.

RED RIDING-HOOD

Sweet little myth of the nursery story-- Earliest love of mine infantile breast, Be something tangible, bloom in thy glory Into existence, as thou art addressed! Hasten! appear to me, guileless and good-- Thou are so dear to me, Red Riding-Hood!

Azure-blue eyes, in a marvel of wonder, Over the dawn of a blush breaking out; Sensitive nose, with a little smile under Trying to hide in a blossoming pout-- Couldn't be serious, try as you would, Little mysterious Red Riding-Hood!

Hah! little girl, it is desolate, lonely, Out in this gloomy old forest of Life!-- Here are not pansies and buttercups only-- Brambles and briers as keen as a knife; And a Heart, ravenous, trails in the wood For the meal have he must,--Red Riding-Hood!

IF I KNEW WHAT POETS KNOW

If I knew what poets know, Would I write a rhyme Of the buds that never blow In the summer-time? Would I sing of golden seeds Springing up in ironweeds? And of rain-drops turned to snow, If I knew what poets know?

Did I know what poets do, Would I sing a song Sadder than the pigeon's coo When the days are long? Where I found a heart in pain, I would make it glad again; And the false should be the true, Did I know what poets do.

If I knew what poets know, I would find a theme Sweeter than the placid flow Of the fairest dream: I would sing of love that lives On the errors it forgives; And the world would better grow If I knew what poets know.

AN OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE

An old sweetheart of mine!--Is this her presence here with me, Or but a vain creation of a lover's memory? A fair, illusive vision that would vanish into air Dared I even touch the silence with the whisper of a prayer?

Nay, let me then believe in all the blended false and true-- The semblance of the OLD love and the substance of the NEW,-- The THEN of changeless sunny days--the NOW of shower and shine-- But Love forever smiling--as that old sweetheart of mine.

This ever-restful sense of HOME, though shouts ring in the hall.-- The easy chair--the old book-shelves and prints along the wall; The rare HABANAS in their box, or gaunt church-warden-stem That often wags, above the jar, derisively at them.

As one who cons at evening o'er an album, all alone, And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known, So I turn the leaves of Fancy, till, in shadowy design, I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.

The lamplight seems to glimmer with a flicker of surprise, As I turn it low--to rest me of the dazzle in my eyes, And light my pipe in silence, save a sigh that seems to yoke Its fate with my tobacco and to vanish with the smoke.

'Tis a FRAGRANT retrospection,--for the loving thoughts that start Into being are like perfume from the blossom of the heart; And to dream the old dreams over is a luxury divine-- When my truant fancies wander with that old sweetheart of mine.

Though I hear beneath my study, like a fluttering of wings, The voices of my children and the mother as she sings-- I feel no twinge of conscience to deny me any theme When Care has cast her anchor in the harbor of a dream--

In fact, to speak in earnest, I believe it adds a charm To spice the good a trifle with a little dust of harm,-- For I find an extra flavor in Memory's mellow wine That makes me drink the deeper to that old sweetheart of mine.

O Childhood-days enchanted! O the magic of the Spring!-- With all green boughs to blossom white, and all bluebirds to sing! When all the air, to toss and quaff, made life a jubilee And changed the children's song and laugh to shrieks of ecstasy.

With eyes half closed in clouds that ooze from lips that taste, as well, The peppermint and cinnamon, I hear the old School bell, And from "Recess" romp in again from "Black-man's" broken line, To smile, behind my "lesson," at that old sweetheart of mine.

A face of lily-beauty, with a form of airy grace, Floats out of my tobacco as the Genii from the vase; And I thrill beneath the glances of a pair of azure eyes As glowing as the summer and as tender as the skies.

I can see the pink sunbonnet and the little checkered dress She wore when first I kissed her and she answered the caress With the written declaration that, "as surely as the vine Grew 'round the stump," she loved me--that old sweetheart of mine.

Again I made her presents, in a really helpless way,-- The big "Rhode Island Greening"--I was hungry, too, that day!-- But I follow her from Spelling, with her hand behind her--so-- And I slip the apple in it--and the Teacher doesn't know!