Selected Poems Read Online

With pity for mankind look ’round;
Help them to rise—and Heaven is found.

After a Visit

I be’n down in ole Kentucky
Fur a week er two, an’ say,
’Twuz ez hard ez breakin’ oxen
Fur to tear myse’f away.
Allus argerin’ ’bout fren’ship
An’ yer hospitality—
Y’ ain’t no right to talk about it
Tell you be’n down there to see.

See jest how they give you welcome
To the best that’s in the land,
Feel the sort o’ grip they give you
When they take you by the hand.
Hear ’em say, “We’re glad to have you,
Better stay a week er two;”
An’ the way they treat you makes you
Feel that ev’ry word is true.

Feed you tell you hear the buttons
Crackin’ on yore Sunday vest;
Haul you roun’ to see the wonders
Tell you have to cry for rest.
Drink yer health an’ pet an’ praise you
Tell you git to feel ez great
Ez the Sheriff o’ the county
Er the Gov’ner o’ the State.

Wife, she sez I must be crazy
’Cause I go on so, an’ Nelse
He ’lows, “Goodness gracious! daddy,
Cain’t you talk about nuthin’ else?”
Well, pleg-gone it, I’m jes’ tickled,
Bein’ tickled ain’t no sin;
I be’n down in ole Kentucky,
An’ I want o’ go ag’in.

The Spellin’-Bee

I never shall furgit that night when father hitched up Dobbin,

An’ all us youngsters clambered in an’ down the road went bobbin’

To school where we was kep’ at work in every kind o’ weather,

But where that night a spellin’-bee was callin’ us together.

’Twas one o’ Heaven’s banner nights, the stars was all a-glitter,

The moon was shinin’ like the hand o’ God had jest then lit her.

The ground was white with spotless snow, the blast was sort o’ stingin’;

But underneath our round-abouts, you bet our hearts was singin’.

That spellin’-bee had be’n the talk o’ many a precious moment,

The youngsters all was wild to see jes’ what the precious show meant,

An’ we whose years was in their teens was little less desirous

O’ gittin’ to the meetin’ so’s our sweethearts could admire us.

So on we went so anxious fur to satisfy our mission

That father had to box our ears, to smother our ambition.

But boxin’ ears was too short work to hinder our arrivin’,

He jest turned roun’ an’ smacked us all, an’ kep’ right on a-drivin’.

Well, soon the schoolhouse hove in sight, the winders beamin’ brightly;

The sound o’ talkin’ reached our ears, and voices laffin’ lightly.

It puffed us up so full an’ big ’at I’ll jest bet a dollar,

There wa’n’t a feller there but felt the strain upon his collar.

So down we jumped an’ in we went ez sprightly ez you make ’em,

But somethin’ grabbed us by the knees an’ straight began to shake ’em.

Fur once within that lighted room, our feelin’s took a canter,

An’ scurried to the zero mark ez quick ez Tam O’Shanter.

’Cause there was crowds o’ people there, both sexes an’ all stations;

It looked like all the town had come an’ brought all their relations.

The first I saw was Nettie Gray, I thought that girl was dearer

’N’ gold; an’ when I got a chance, you bet I aidged up near her.

An’ Farmer Dobbs’s girl was there, the one ’at Jim was sweet on,

An’ Cyrus Jones an’ Mandy Smith an’ Faith an’ Patience Deaton.

Then Parson Brown an’ Lawyer Jones were present—all attention,

An’ piles on piles of other folks too numerous to mention.

The master rose an’ briefly said: “Good friends, dear brother Crawford,

To spur the pupils’ minds along, a little prize has offered.

To him who spells the best tonight—or ’t may be ‘her’—no tellin’—

He offers ez a jest reward, this precious work on spellin’.”

A little blue-backed spellin’-book with fancy scarlet trimmin’;

We boys devoured it with our eyes—so did the girls an’ women.

He held it up where all could see, then on the table set it,

An’ ev’ry speller in the house felt mortal bound to get it.

At his command we fell in line, prepared to do our dooty,

Outspell the rest an’ set ’em down, an’ carry home the booty.

’Twas then the merry times began, the blunders, an’ the laffin’,

The nudges an’ the nods an’ winks an’ stale good-natured chaffin’.

Ole Uncle Hiram Dane was there, the clostest man a-livin’,

Whose only bugbear seemed to be the dreadful fear o’ givin’.

His beard was long, his hair uncut, his clothes all bare an’ dingy;

It wasn’t ’cause the man was pore, but jest so mortal stingy;

An’ there he sot by Sally Riggs a-smilin’ an’ a-smirkin’,

An’ all his children lef’ to home a diggin’ an’ a-workin’.

A widower he was, an’ Sal was thinkin’ ’at she’d wing him;

I reckon he was wond’rin’ what them rings o’ hern would bring him.

An’ when the spellin’-test commenced, he up an’ took his station,

A-spellin’ with the best o’ them to beat the very nation.

An’ when he’d spell some youngster down, he’d turn to look at Sally,

An’ say: “The teachin’ nowadays can’t be o’ no great vally.”

But true enough the adage says, “Pride walks in slipp’ry places,”

Fur soon a thing occurred that put a smile on all our faces.

The laffter jest kep’ ripplin’ ’roun’ an’ teacher couldn’t quell it,

Fur when he give out “charity” ole Hiram couldn’t spell it.

But laffin’ ’s ketchin’ an’ it throwed some others off their bases,

An’ folks ’u’d miss the very word that seemed to fit their cases.

Why, fickle little Jessie Lee come near the house upsettin’

By puttin’ in a double “kay” to spell the word “coquettin’.”

An’ when it come to Cyrus Jones, it tickled me all over—

Him settin’ up to Mandy Smith an’ got sot down on “lover.”

But Lawyer Jones of all gone men did shorely look the gonest,

When he found out that he’d furgot to put the “h” in “honest.”

An’ Parson Brown, whose sermons were too long fur toleration,

Caused lots o’ smiles by missin’ when they give out “condensation.”

So one by one they giv’ it up—the big words kep’ a-landin’,

Till me an’ Nettie Gray was left, the only ones a-standin’,

An’ then my inward strife began—I guess my mind was petty—

I did so want that spellin’-book; but then to spell down Nettie

Jest sort o’ went ag’in my grain—I somehow couldn’t do it,

An’ when I git a notion fixed, I’m great on stickin’ to it.

So when they giv’ the next word out—I hadn’t orter tell it,

But then ’twas all fur Nettie’s sake—I missed so’s she could spell it.

She spelt the word, then looked at me so lovin’-like an’ mello’,

I tell you ’t sent a hundred pins a shootin’ through a fello’.

O’ course I had to stand the jokes an’ chaffin’ of the fello’s,

But when they handed her the book I vow I wasn’t jealous.

We sung a hymn, an’ Parson Brown dismissed us like he orter,

Fur, la! he’d learned a thing er two an’ made his blessin’ shorter.

’Twas late an’ cold when we got out, but Nettie liked cold weather,

An’ so did I, so we agreed we’d jest walk home together.

We both wuz silent, fur of words we nuther had a surplus,

’Till she spoke out quite sudden like, “You missed that word on purpose.”

Well, I declare it frightened me; at first I tried denyin’,

But Nettie, she jest smiled an’ smiled, she knowed that I was lyin’.

Sez she: “That book is yourn by right;” sez I: “It never could be—

I—I—you—ah—” an’ there I stuck, an’ well she understood me.

So we agreed that later on when age had giv’ us tether,

We’d jine our lots an’ settle down to own that book together.

Keep A-Pluggin’ Away

I’ve a humble little motto
That is homely, though it’s true,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
It’s a thing when I’ve an object
That I always try to do,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
When you’ve rising storms to quell,
When opposing waters swell,
It will never fail to tell,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.

If the hills are high before
And the paths are hard to climb,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
And remember that successes
Come to him who bides his time,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
From the greatest to the least,
None are from the rule released.
Be thou toiler, poet, priest,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.

Delve away beneath the surface,
There is treasure farther down,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
Let the rain come down in torrents,
Let the threat’ning heavens frown,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
When the clouds have rolled away,
There will come a brighter day
All your labor to repay,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.

There’ll be lots of sneers to swallow,
There’ll be lots of pain to bear,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
If you’ve got your eye on heaven,
Some bright day you’ll wake up there,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
Perseverance still is king;
Time its sure reward will bring;
Work and wait unwearying,—
Keep a-pluggin’ away.

An Easy-Goin’ Feller

Ther’ ain’t no use in all this strife,
An’ hurryin’, pell-mell, right thro’ life.
I don’t believe in goin’ too fast
To see what kind o’ road you’ve passed.
It ain’t no mortal kind o’ good,
’N’ I wouldn’t hurry ef I could.
I like to jest go joggin’ ’long,
To limber up my soul with song;
To stop awhile ’n’ chat the men,
’N’ drink some cider now an’ then.
Do’ want no boss a-standin’ by
To see me work; I allus try
To do my dooty right straight up,
An’ earn what fills my plate an’ cup.
An’ ez fur boss, I’ll be my own,
I like to jest be let alone,
To plough my strip an’ tend my bees,
An’ do jest like I doggoned please.
My head’s all right, an’ my heart’s meller,
But I’m a easy-goin’ feller.

The Wooing

A youth went faring up and down,
Alack and well-a-day.
He fared him to the market town,
Alack and well-a-day.
And there he met a maiden fair,
With hazel eyes and auburn hair;
His heart went from him then and there,
Alack and well-a-day.

She posies sold right merrily,
Alack and well-a-day;
But not a flower was fair as she,
Alack and well-a-day.
He bought a rose and sighed a sigh,
“Ah, dearest maiden, would that I
Might dare the seller too to buy!”
Alack and well-a-day.

She tossed her head, the coy coquette,
Alack and well-a-day.
“I’m not, sir, in the market yet,”
Alack and well-a-day.
“Your love must cool upon a shelf;
Tho’ much I sell for gold and pelf,
I’m yet too young to sell myself,”
Alack and well-a-day.

The youth was filled with sorrow sore,
Alack and well-a-day.
And looked he at the maid once more,
Alack and well-a-day.
Then loud he cried, “Fair maiden, if
Too young to sell, now as I live,
You’re not too young yourself to give,”
Alack and well-a-day.

The little maid cast down her eyes,
Alack and well-a-day.
And many a flush began to rise,
Alack and well-a-day.
“Why, since you are so bold,” she said,
“I doubt not you are highly bred,
So take me!” and the twain were wed,
Alack and well-a-day.

When de Co’n Pone’s Hot

Dey is times in life when Nature
Seems to slip a cog an’ go,
Jes’ a-rattlin’ down creation,
Lak an ocean’s overflow;
When de worl’ jes’ stahts a-spinnin’
Lak a picaninny’s top,
An’ yo’ cup o’ joy is brimmin’
’Twell it seems about to slop,
An’ you feel jes’ lak a racah,
Dat is trainin’ fu’ to trot—
When yo’ mammy says de blessin’
An’ de co’n pone’s hot.

When you set down at de table,
Kin’ o’ weary lak an’ sad,
An’ you’se jes’ a little tiahed
An’ purhaps a little mad;
How yo’ gloom tu’ns into gladness,
How yo’ joy drives out de doubt
When de oven do’ is opened,
An’ de smell comes po’in’ out;
Why, de ’lectric light o’ Heaven
Seems to settle on de spot,
When yo’ mammy says de blessin’
An’ de co’n pone’s hot.

When de cabbage pot is steamin’
An’ de bacon good an’ fat,
When de chittlins is a-sputter’n’
So’s to show you whah dey’s at;
Tek away yo’ sody biscuit,
Tek away yo’ cake an’ pie,
Fu’ de glory time is comin’,
An’ it’s ’proachin’ mighty nigh,
An’ you want to jump an’ hollah,
Dough you know you’d bettah not,
When yo’ mammy says de blessin’
An’ de co’n pone’s hot.

I have hyeahd o’ lots o’ sermons,
An’ I’ve hyeahd o’ lots o’ prayers,
An’ I’ve listened to some singin’
Dat has tuck me up de stairs
Of de Glory-Lan’ an’ set me
Jes’ below de Mastah’s th’one,
An’ have lef’ my hea’t a-singin’
In a happy aftah tone;
But dem wu’ds so sweetly murmured
Seem to tech de softes’ spot,
When my mammy says de blessin’,
An’ de co’n pone’s hot.

Discovered

Seen you down at chu’ch las’ night,
Nevah min’, Miss Lucy.
What I mean? oh, dat’s all right,
Nevah min’, Miss Lucy.
You was sma’t ez sma’t could be,
But you couldn’t hide f’om me.