A Little Book of Western Verse Part 5

The moonbeam, that upon the floor Wi' crickets ben a-jinkin', Now steals away fra' her bonnie play-- Wi' a rosier blie, I'm thinkin'.

I saw you, Maister Bawsy-brown, When the blue bells went a-ringin'

For the merrie fays o' the banks an' braes, And I kenned your bonnie singin'; The gowans gave you honey sweets, And the posies on the heather Dript draughts o' dew for the faery crew That danct and sang together.

But posie-bloom an' simmer-dew And ither sweets o' faery C'u'd na gae down wi' Bawsy-brown, Sae nigh to Maggie's dairy!

My pantry shelves, sae clean and white, Are set wi' cream and cheeses,-- Gae, gin you will, an' take your fill Of whatsoever pleases.

Then wave your wand aboon my een Until they close awearie, And the night be past sae sweet and fast Wi' dreamings o' my dearie.

But pinch the wench in yonder room, For she's na gude nor bonnie,-- Her shelves be dust and her pans be rust, And she winkit at my Johnnie!

APPLE-PIE AND CHEESE

Full many a sinful notion Conceived of foreign powers Has come across the ocean To harm this land of ours; And heresies called fashions Have modesty effaced, And baleful, morbid pa.s.sions Corrupt our native taste.

O tempora! O mores!

What profanations these That seek to dim the glories Of apple-pie and cheese!

I'm glad my education Enables me to stand Against the vile temptation Held out on every hand; Eschewing all the t.i.ttles With vanity replete, I'm loyal to the victuals Our grandsires used to eat!

I'm glad I've got three willing boys To hang around and tease Their mother for the filling joys Of apple-pie and cheese!

Your flavored creams and ices And your dainty angel-food Are mighty fine devices To regale the dainty dude; Your terrapin and oysters, With wine to wash 'em down, Are just the thing for roisters When painting of the town; No flippant, sugared notion Shall _my_ appet.i.te appease, Or bate my soul's devotion To apple-pie and cheese!

The pie my Julia makes me (G.o.d bless her Yankee ways!) On memory's pinions takes me To dear Green Mountain days; And seems like I see Mother Lean on the window-sill, A-handin' me and brother What she knows 'll keep us still; And these feelings are so grateful, Says I, "Julia, if you please, I'll take another plateful Of that apple-pie and cheese!"

And cheese! No alien it, sir, That's brought across the sea,-- No Dutch antique, nor Switzer, Nor glutinous de Brie; There's nothing I abhor so As mawmets of this ilk-- Give _me_ the harmless morceau That's made of true-blue milk!

No matter what conditions Dyspeptic come to feaze, The best of all physicians Is apple-pie and cheese!

Though ribalds may decry 'em, For these twin boons we stand, Partaking thrice per diem Of their fulness out of hand; No enervating fashion Shall cheat us of our right To gratify our pa.s.sion With a mouthful at a bite!

We'll cut it square or bias, Or any way we please, And faith shall justify us When we carve our pie and cheese!

De gustibus, 't is stated, Non disputandum est.

Which meaneth, when translated, That all is for the best.

So let the foolish choose 'em The vapid sweets of sin, I will not disabuse 'em Of the heresy they're in; But I, when I undress me Each night, upon my knees Will ask the Lord to bless me With apple-pie and cheese!

KRINKEN

Krinken was a little child,-- It was summer when he smiled.

Oft the h.o.a.ry sea and grim Stretched its white arms out to him, Calling, "Sun-child, come to me; Let me warm my heart with thee!"

But the child heard not the sea, Calling, yearning evermore For the summer on the sh.o.r.e.

Krinken on the beach one day Saw a maiden Nis at play; On the pebbly beach she played In the summer Krinken made.

Fair, and very fair, was she, Just a little child was he.

"Krinken," said the maiden Nis, "Let me have a little kiss, Just a kiss, and go with me To the summer-lands that be Down within the silver sea."

Krinken was a little child-- By the maiden Nis beguiled, Hand in hand with her went he, And 'twas summer in the sea.

And the h.o.a.ry sea and grim To its bosom folded him-- Clasped and kissed the little form, And the ocean's heart was warm.

Now the sea calls out no more; It is winter on the sh.o.r.e,-- Winter where that little child Made sweet summer when he smiled; Though 'tis summer on the sea Where with maiden Nis went he,-- Summer, summer evermore,-- It is winter on the sh.o.r.e, Winter, winter evermore.

Of the summer on the deep Come sweet visions in my sleep: _His_ fair face lifts from the sea, _His_ dear voice calls out to me,-- These my dreams of summer be.

Krinken was a little child, By the maiden Nis beguiled; Oft the h.o.a.ry sea and grim Reached its longing arms to him, Crying, "Sun-child, come to me; Let me warm my heart with thee!"

But the sea calls out no more; It is winter on the sh.o.r.e,-- Winter, cold and dark and wild; Krinken was a little child,-- It was summer when he smiled; Down he went into the sea, And the winter bides with me.

Just a little child was he.

BeRANGER'S "BROKEN FIDDLE"

I

There, there, poor dog, my faithful friend, Pay you no heed unto my sorrow: But feast to-day while yet you may,-- Who knows but we shall starve to-morrow!

II

"Give us a tune," the foemen cried, In one of their profane caprices; I bade them "No"--they frowned, and, lo!

They dashed this innocent in pieces!

III

This fiddle was the village pride-- The mirth of every fete enhancing; Its wizard art set every heart As well as every foot to dancing.

IV

How well the bridegroom knew its voice, As from its strings its song went gushing!

Nor long delayed the promised maid Equipped for bridal, coy and blushing.

V

Why, it discoursed so merrily, It quickly banished all dejection; And yet, when pressed, our priest confessed I played with pious circ.u.mspection.

VI

And though, in patriotic song, It was our guide, compatriot, teacher, I never thought the foe had wrought His fury on the helpless creature!