Imagini ale paginilor
PDF
ePub

DE FUST BANJO

Go 'way, fiddle! folks is tired o' hearin' you a-squawkin'. Keep silence fur yo' betters! don't you heah de banjo

talkin'?

About de 'possum's tail she's gwine to lecter-ladies, listen!

About de ha'r whut isn't dar, an' why de ha'r is missin':

"Dar's gwine to be a' oberflow," said Noah, lookin' solemn

Fur Noah tuk de "Herald," an' he read de ribber column

An' so he sot his hands to wuk a-clarin' timber-patches, An' 'lowed he's gwine to build a boat to beat de steamah Natchez.

Ol' Noah kep' a-nailin' an' a-chippin' an' a-sawin';

An' all de wicked neighbors kep' a-laughin' an' a-pshawin'; But Noah didn't min' 'em, knowin' whut wuz gwine to happen:

An' forty days an' forty nights de rain it kep' a-drappin'.

Now, Noah had done cotched a lot ob ebry sort o' beas'es

Ob all de shows a-trabbelin', it beat 'em all to pieces! He had a Morgan colt an' sebral head o' Jarsey cattleAn' druv 'em 'board de Ark as soon's he heered de thun

der rattle.

Den sech anoder fall ob rain! It come so awful hebby, De ribber riz immejitly, an' busted troo de lebbee;

De people all wuz drownded out-'cep' Noah an' de critters,

An' men he'd hired to wuk de boat-an' one to mix de

bitters.

De Ark she kep' a-sailin' an' a-sailin' an' a-sailin';
De lion got his dander up, an' like to bruk de palin';
De sarpints hissed; de painters yelled; tel', whut wid
all de fussin',

You c'u'dn't hardly heah de mate a-bossin' 'roun' an' cussin'.

Now Ham, de only nigger whut wuz runnin' on de

packet,

Got lonesome in de barber-shop, an' c'u'dn't stan' de

racket;

An' so, fur to amuse he-se'f, he steamed some wood an' bent it,

An' soon he had a banjo made-de fust dat wuz invented.

He wet de ledder, stretched it on; made bridge an' screws an' aprin;

An' fitted in a proper neck-'twuz berry long an' taprin'; He tuk some tin, an' twisted him a thimble fur to ring it: An' den de mighty question riz: how wuz he gwine to

string it?

De 'possum had as fine a tail as dis dat I's a-singin';
De ha'r's so long an' thick an' strong,—des fit fur banjo-

stringin';

Dat nigger shaved 'em off as short as washday-dinner graces:

An' sorted ob 'em by de size-f'om little E's to basses. He strung her, tuned her, struck a jig,-'twuz "Nebber min' de wedder,"

She soun' like forty-lebben bands a-playin' all togedder: Some went to pattin'; some to dancin': Noah called de

figgers;

An' Ham he sot an' knocked de tune, de happiest ob niggers!

Now, sence dat time-it's mighty strange-dere's not de slightes' showin'

Ob any ha'r at all upon de 'possum's tail a-growin'; An' curi's, too, dat nigger's ways: his people nebber los' 'em

Fur whar you finds de nigger-dar's de banjo an' de 'possum!

Edith M. Thomas

Edith Matilda Thomas was born at Chatham, Ohio, August 12, 1854. She was educated in the Normal Institute at Geneva, Ohio, and has been living in New York since 1888.

Miss Thomas is the author of some dozen books of verse, most of them lightly lyrical in mood, although many of her individual poems have a spiritually dramatic quality. The best of her work may be found in Lyrics and Sonnets (1887) and The Flower from the Ashes (1915).

66

FROST TO-NIGHT"

Apple-green west and an orange bar;

[ocr errors]

And the crystal eye of a lone, one star
And, "Child, take the shears and cut what you will,
Frost to-night-so clear and dead-still."

Then I sally forth, half sad, half proud,
And I come to the velvet, imperial crowd,
The wine-red, the gold, the crimson, the pied,—
The dahlias that reign by the garden-side.

The dahlias I might not touch till to-night!
A gleam of shears in the fading light,
And I gathered them all,-the splendid throng,
And in one great sheaf I bore them along.

In my garden of Life with its all late flowers
I heed a Voice in the shrinking hours:
"Frost to-night-so clear and dead-still'
Half sad, half proud, my arms I fill.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

George Edward Woodberry

George Edward Woodberry was born in Beverly, Mass., May 12, 1855, and studied at Harvard; his early efforts receiving the approval of James Russell Lowell. From 1891 to 1904 he was Professor of Comparative Literature at Columbia University, where he exercised a keen influence on many of the younger writers.

His work is decidedly romantic and classical in style, leaning heavily toward the Tennysonian tradition. Although there is an undercurrent of spiritual beauty throughout his poetry, he frequently loses his power of exaltation in a rhetoric that is both stilted and sentimental. His chief collections of verse are The Flight and Other Poems (1900), Wild Eden (1914) and The Roamer and Other Poems (1920). He has also written several books of essays, criticism and biography.

IMMORTAL LOVE

Immortal Love, too high for my possessing,—
Yet, lower than thee, where shall I find repose?
Long in my youth I sang the morning rose,
By earthly things the heavenly pattern guessing!
Long fared I on, beauty and love caressing,
And finding in my heart a place for those
Eternal fugitives; the golden close

Of evening folds me, still their sweetness blessing.

Oh, happy we, the first-born heirs of nature,
For whom the Heavenly Sun delays his light!
He by the sweets of every mortal creature
Tempers eternal beauty to our sight;
And by the glow upon love's earthly feature
Maketh the path of our departure bright.

« ÎnapoiContinuă »