Riley Farm-Rhymes Part 6

I

In the jolly winters Of the long-ago, It was not so cold as now-- O! No! No!

Then, as I remember, s...o...b..a.l.l.s to eat Were as good as apples now.

And every bit as sweet!

II

In the jolly winters Of the dead-and-gone, Bub was warm as summer, With his red mitts on,-- Just in his little waist- And-pants all together, Who ever hear him growl About cold weather?

III

In the jolly winters Of the long-ago-- Was it HALF so cold as now?

O! No! No!

Who caught his death o' cold, Making prints of men Flat-backed in snow that now's Twice as cold again?

IV

In the jolly winters Of the dead-and-gone, Startin' out rabbit-huntin'-- Early as the dawn,-- Who ever froze his fingers, Ears, heels, or toes,-- Or'd 'a' cared if he had?

n.o.body knows!

V

Nights by the kitchen-stove, Sh.e.l.lin' white and red Corn in the skillet, and Sleepin' four abed!

Ah! the jolly winters Of the long-ago!

We were not as old as now-- O! No! No!

JUNE

O queenly month of indolent repose!

I drink thy breath in sips of rare perfume, As in thy downy lap of clover-bloom I nestle like a drowsy child and doze The lazy hours away. The zephyr throws The shifting shuttle of the Summer's loom And weaves a damask-work of gleam and gloom Before thy listless feet. The lily blows A bugle-call of fragrance o'er the glade; And, wheeling into ranks, with plume and spear, Thy harvest-armies gather on parade; While, faint and far away, yet pure and clear, A voice calls out of alien lands of shade:-- All hail the Peerless G.o.ddess of the Year!

THE TREE-TOAD

"'S cur'ous-like," said the tree-toad, "I've twittered fer rain all day; And I got up soon, And hollered tel noon-- But the sun, hit blazed away, Tell I jest clumb down in a crawfish-hole, Weary at hart, and sick at soul!

"Dozed away fer an hour, And I tackled the thing agin: And I sung, and sung, Tel I knowed my lung Was jest about give in; And THEN, thinks I, ef hit don't rain NOW, They's nothin' in singin', anyhow!

"Onc't in a while some farmer Would come a-drivin' past; And he'd hear my cry, And stop and sigh-- Tel I jest laid back, at last, And I hollered rain tel I thought my th'oat Would bust wide open at ever' note!

"But I FETCHED her!--O _I_ FETCHED her!-- 'Cause a little while ago, As I kindo' set, With one eye shet, And a-singin' soft and low, A voice drapped down on my fevered brain, A-sayin',--'EF YOU'LL JEST HUSH I'LL RAIN!'"

A SONG OF LONG AGO

A song of Long Ago: Sing it lightly--sing it low-- Sing it softly--like the lisping of the lips we used to know When our baby-laughter spilled From the glad hearts ever filled With music blithe as robin ever trilled!

Let the fragrant summer breeze, And the leaves of locust-trees, And the apple-buds and blossoms, and the wings of honey-bees, All palpitate with glee, Till the happy harmony Brings back each childish joy to you and me.

Let the eyes of fancy turn Where the tumbled pippins burn Like embers in the orchard's lap of tangled gra.s.s and fern,-- There let the old path wind In and out and on behind The cider-press that chuckles as we grind.

Blend in the song the moan Of the dove that grieves alone, And the wild whir of the locust, and the b.u.mble's drowsy drone; And the low of cows that call Through the pasture-bars when all The landscape fades away at evenfall.

Then, far away and clear, Through the dusky atmosphere, Let the wailing of the killdee be the only sound we hear: O sad and sweet and low As the memory may know Is the glad-pathetic song of Long Ago!

OLD WINTERS ON THE FARM

I have jest about decided It 'ud keep a town-boy hoppin'

Fer to work all winter, choppin'

Fer a' old fireplace, like I did!

Lawz! them old times wuz contrairy!-- Blame' backbone o' winter, 'peared-like WOULDN'T break!--and I wuz skeered-like Clean on into FEB'UARY!

Nothin' ever made me madder Than fer Pap to stomp in, layin'

In a' extra forestick, say'in', "Groun'-hog's out and seed his shadder!"

ROMANCIN'

I' b'en a-kindo' "musin'," as the feller says, and I'm About o' the conclusion that they hain't no better time, When you come to cipher on it, than the times we ust to know When we swore our first "dog-gone-it" sorto' solum-like and low!

You git my idy, do you?--LITTLE tads, you understand-- Jest a-wishin' thue and thue you that you on'y wuz a MAN.-- Yit here I am, this minit, even sixty, to a day, And fergittin' all that's in it, wishm' jest the other way!