BESS The collie girl had the sense bred out of her, She didn't deserve, no doubt, the hate she got-- Dede Graf, the new man, set himself to feed And win her, and thought he'd keep her in the shed; "Somebody's skeert her," he'd say and wag his head. He'd no more luck than others had, had Dede. Until the poor, lonesome, howling girl got big, Lord, when he'd touched her once she was like a child! Of feeling his hand on her, and then she'd run Before the pups came he had her at his call, She was a beauty, that was all of it, And Dede was envied while the dogs were small. She weaned them, and two died and the rest were given; And Bess got offish as she was before. Deed lured and wheedled and shook his fist and swore-His talk was somewhat strong when he was driven. It went on that way for three years about. She'd come to him and be a little saint, Having her young; and then the crazy taint Would get her when the young ones were turned out. Dede was a Job for patience, and no less, When she'd go shy again. He'd curse her leather, Off in the field, he'd whine, "Hyuh, Bess!-come, Bess!" The fellow was five-foot-ten and like an ox; Orrick Johns THE PAGEANT Green the buds of Easter, Warm the winds of May; Autumn like a feaster In merry disarray. But Winter follows, tracks him down, Youth in scarlet stockings, Garlands for a crown, Making mouths and mockings After Age in brown. But velvet never stood the rain, And long's the road to the Keep o' Spain. Love in silken weather Never yet was slain; But love must take to leather, Hie him off again. For Love must hang, the sheriff saith, Morning, night and morrow, On through life and time- Thomas Wood Stevens ON THE ROAD SONG OF YOUNG BURBAGE The goat that rubbed my knees last night For if his favor singled me I know I'm not too well disguised Most difficult it is today I fear my old identity May fade with all the rest. But I'll go back to hill and sky I need those ancient presences THE HERD BOY The night I brought the cows home And in my heart was heaven And on my lips a prayer. I raised my arms above me, The lane led by a river Along an ancient wood, And ancient thoughts came softly I hung the cows with garlands, A laurel branch I bore. SHOES I cannot put the old shoes on, They're too far gone for wear- And yet I cannot quite assume My newly purchased pair. The difficulty is extreme. Since shoes are such a trial, I guess that I'd go happier |