Works

In words like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold;
But that large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more.
- TENNYSON.
...

1
The Hired Man Talks

There's old man Willards; an' his wife;
An' Marg'et - S'repty's sister; an'
There's me - an' I'm the hired man;
An' Tomps McClure, you better yer life!
...

"I have twankled the strings of the twinkering rain;
I have burnished the meteor's mail;
I have bridled the wind
When he whinnied and whined
With a bunch of stars tied to his tail;...

I'm bin a-visitun 'bout a week
To my little Cousin's at Nameless Creek,
An' I'm got the hives an' a new straw hat,
An' I'm come back home where my beau lives at.

Back from a two-years' sentence!
And though it had been ten,
You think, I were scarred no deeper
In the eyes of my fellow-men.
"My fellow-men?" Sounds like a satire,
You think - and I so allow,...

Me an' Bert an' Minnie-Belle
Knows a joke, an' we won't tell!
No, we don't - 'cause we don't know
Why we got to laughin' so;
But we got to laughin' so,
"We ist kep' a-laughin'.
...

For you, I could forget the gay
Delirium of merriment,
And let my laughter die away
In endless silence of content.
I could forget, for your dear sake,
The utter emptiness and ache...

"How did you rest, last night?" -
I've heard my gran'pap say
Them words a thousand times - that's right -
Jes them words thataway!
As punctchul-like as morning dast
To ever heave in sight...

Reach your hand to me, my friend,
With its heartiest caress -
Sometime there will come an end
To its present faithfulness -
Sometime I may ask in vain
For the touch of it again,...

I heard the bells at midnight
Ring in the dawning year;
And above the clanging chorus
Of the song, I seemed to hear
A choir of mystic voices
Flinging echoes, ringing clear,...

I.

As one in sorrow looks upon
The dead face of a loyal friend,
By the dim light of New Year's dawn
I saw the Old Year end.

Upon the pallid features lay...

I

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,...

The bookman he's a humming-bird -
His feasts are honey-fine, -
(With hi! hilloo!
And clover-dew
And roses lush and rare!)
Hiss roses are the phrase and word
Of olden tomes divine;...

Her hair was, oh, so dense a blur
Of darkness, midnight envied her;
And stars grew dimmer in the skies
To see the glory of her eyes;
And all the summer rain of light
That showered from the moon at night...