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Wit and Humor of America, The Vol 03

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<h2>THE COURTIN'</h2> <h3>BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL</h3> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> God makes sech nights, all white an' still Fur 'z you can look or listen, Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill, All silence an' all glisten. </div> <div class="stanza"> Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru' the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'Ith no one nigh to hender. </div> <div class="stanza"> A fireplace filled the room's one side With half a cord o' wood in— There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'. </div> <div class="stanza"> The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her, An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser. </div> <div class="stanza"> Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung, An' in amongst 'em rusted The old queen's-arm that Gran'ther Young Fetched back f'om Concord busted. </div> <div class="stanza"> The very room, coz she was in, Seemed warm f'om floor to ceilin', An' she looked full ez rosy agin Ez the apples she was peelin'. </div> <div class="stanza"> 'T was kin' o' kingdom-come to look On sech a blessed cretur; A dogrose blushin' to a brook Ain't modester nor sweeter. </div> <div class="stanza"> He was six foot o' man, A 1, Clear grit an' human natur'; None couldn't quicker pitch a ton Nor dror a furrer straighter. </div> <div class="stanza"> He'd sparked it with full twenty gals, He'd squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em, Fust this one, an' then thet, by spells— All is, he couldn't love 'em. </div> <div class="stanza"> But long o' her his veins 'ould run All crinkly like curled maple; The side she breshed felt full o' sun Ez a south slope in Ap'il. </div> <div class="stanza"> She thought no v'ice bed sech a swing Ez hisn in the choir; My! when he made Ole Hundred ring, She knowed the Lord was nigher. </div> <div class="stanza"> An' she'd blush scarlit, right in prayer, When her new meetin'-bunnet Felt somehow thru its crown a pair O' blue eyes sot upun it. </div> <div class="stanza"> Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some! She seemed to 've gut a new soul For she felt sartin-sure he'd come, Down to her very shoe-sole. </div> <div class="stanza"> She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu, A-raspin' on the scraper— All ways to once her feelin's flew Like sparks in burnt-up paper. </div> <div class="stanza"> He kin' o' l'itered on the mat, Some doubtfle o' the sekle; His heart kep' goin' pity-pat, But hern went pity Zekle. </div> <div class="stanza"> An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk Ez though she wished him furder, An' on her apples kep' to work, Parin' away like murder. </div> <div class="stanza"> "You want to see my Pa, I s'pose?" "Wal ... no ... I come dasignin'—" "To see my Ma? She's sprinklin' clo'es Agin to-morrer's i'nin'." </div> <div class="stanza"> To say why gals act so or so, Or don't, 'ould be presumin'; Mebby to mean yes an' say no Comes nateral to women. </div> <div class="stanza"> He stood a spell on one foot fust, Then stood a spell on t' other, An' on which one he felt the wust He couldn't ha' told ye nuther. </div> <div class="stanza"> Says he, "I'd better call agin"; Says she, "Think likely, Mister"; Thet last word pricked him like a pin, An' ... Wal, he up an' kist her. </div> <div class="stanza"> When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, Huldy sot pale ez ashes, All kin' o' smily roun' the lips An' teary roun' the lashes. </div> <div class="stanza"> For she was jes' the quiet kind Whose naturs never vary, Like streams that keep a summer mind Snowhid in Jenooary. </div> <div class="stanza"> The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued Too tight for all expressin', Tell mother see how metters stood, An' gin 'em both her blessin'. </div> <div class="stanza"> Then her red come back like the tide Down to the Bay o' Fundy, An' all I know is they was cried In meetin' come nex' Sunday. </div> </div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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