An' the trees 'ud press round him an' hustle him. I got so I was scared o' th' trees. 100 I never went in t' th' woods Winters, Though in Summer I liked 'em well enough. Well, this year was worse'n all the others; We had a terrible spell o' stormy weather, An' the snow lay so thick You couldn't see the fences even. Out o' doors was as flat as the palm o' my hand, Ther warn't a hump or a holler It warn't so bad when my little boy It was so quiet was with us. 105 He used to go sleddin' and skatin', An' every day his father fetched him to school in the pung An' brought him back agin. We scraped an' scraped fer Neddy, We wanted him to have a education. 110 We sent him to High School, An' then he went up to Boston to Technology. He was a minin' engineer, An' doin' real well, A credit to his bringin' up. 115 But his very first position ther was an explosion in the mine. And I'm glad! I'm glad! I'm your mother still, Neddy. I can't abear it. I can't! I can't! What did you say? Oh, yes, Sir. I'm here. Not till after Neddy died. 120 125 145 The snappin' o' the branches back in the wood-lot Sounded like pistol shots. Ed was out all day Same as usual. 150 An' it seemed he talked less'n ever. He didn't even say "Good-mornin'," once or twice, An' jest nodded or shook his head when I asked him things. 155 On Monday he said he'd got to go over I'd oughter ha' gone with him, An' I was afeard the fine weather'd break, An' I couldn't do my dryin'. 160 All my life I'd done my work punc tual, An' I couldn't fix my conscience To go junketin' on a washin'-day. I can't tell you what that day was to me. 'Twas the next Winter the silence Every time I stopped stirrin' the water (Being a memorial to Ray Eldred, a Disciple missionary of the Congo River) I. THEIR BASIC SAVAGERY Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room, Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table, Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom, Hard as they were able, Boom, boom, BOOM, A deep rolling bass. 5 |