James Whitcomb Riley: Verses about Girl

I'm twins, I guess, 'cause my Ma say
I'm two little girls. An' one o' me
Is _Good_ little girl; an' th'other 'n' she
Is _Bad little girl as she can be!_
An' Ma say so, 'most ever' day.

An' she's the _funniest_ Ma! 'Cause when
My Doll won't mind, an' I ist cry,
W'y, nen my Ma she sob an' sigh,
An' say, 'Dear _Good_ little girl, good-bye!--
_Bad_ little girl's comed here again!'

Last time 'at Ma act' thataway,
I cried all to myse'f awhile
Out on the steps, an' nen I smile,
An' git my Doll all fix' in style,
An' go in where Ma's at, an' say:
_'Morning to you, Mommy dear_!
_Where's that Bad little girl wuz here_?
_Bad little girl's goned clean away_,
_An' Good little girl's comed back to stay.'_

Her heart knew naught of sorrow,
Nor the vaguest taint of sin--
'Twas an ever-blooming blossom
Of the purity within:
And her hands knew only touches
Of the mother's gentle care,
And the kisses and caresses
Through the interludes of prayer.

Her baby-feet had journeyed
Such a little distance here,
They could have found no briers
In the path to interfere;
The little cross she carried
Could not weary her, we know,
For it lay as lightly on her
As a shadow on the snow.

And yet the way before us--
O how empty now and drear!--
How ev'n the dews of roses
Seem as dripping tears for her!
And the song-birds all seem crying,
As the winds cry and the rain,
All sobbingly,--'We want--we want
Our little girl again!'

1 Our hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann;
2 An' she can cook best things to eat!
3 She ist puts dough in our pie-pan,
4 An' pours in somepin' 'at's good an' sweet;
5 An' nen she salts it all on top
6 With cinnamon; an' nen she'll stop
7 An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow,
8 In th' old cook-stove, so's 'twon't slop
9 An' git all spilled; nen bakes it, so
10 It's custard-pie, first thing you know!
11 An' nen she'll say,
12 "Clear out o' my way!
13 They's time fer work, an' time fer play!
14 Take yer dough, an' run, child, run!
15 Er I cain't git no cookin' done!"

16 When our hired girl 'tends like she's mad,
17 An' says folks got to walk the chalk
18 When she's around, er wisht they had!
19 I play out on our porch an' talk
20 To Th' Raggedy Man 'at mows our lawn;
21 An' he says, "Whew!" an' nen leans on
22 His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes,
23 An' sniffs all 'round an' says, "I swawn!
24 Ef my old nose don't tell me lies,
25 It 'pears like I smell custard-pies!"
26 An' nen he'll say,
27 "Clear out o' my way!
28 They's time fer work, an' time fer play!
29 Take yer dough, an' run, child, run!
30 Er she cain't git no cookin' done!"

31 Wunst our hired girl, when she
32 Got the supper, an' we all et,
33 An' it wuz night, an' Ma an' me
34 An' Pa went wher' the "Social" met, --
35 An' nen when we come home, an' see
36 A light in the kitchen door, an' we
37 Heerd a maccordeun, Pa says, "Lan'-
38 O'-Gracious! who can her beau be?"
39 An' I marched in, an' 'Lizabuth Ann
40 Wuz parchin' corn fer The Raggedy Man!
41 Better say,
42 "Clear out o' the way!
43 They's time fer work, an' time fer play!
44 Take the hint, an' run, child, run!
45 Er we cain't git no courtin' done!"

A king--estranged from his loving Queen
By a foolish royal whim--
Tired and sick of the dull routine
Of matters surrounding him--
Issued a mandate in this wise.--
'THE DOWER OF MY DAUGHTER'S HAND
I WILL GIVE TO HIM WHO HOLDS THIS PRIZE,
THE STRANGEST THING IN THE LAND.'

But the King, sad sooth! in this grim decree
Had a motive low and mean;--
'Twas a royal piece of chicanery
To harry and spite the Queen;
For King though he was, and beyond compare,
He had ruled all things save one--
Then blamed the Queen that his only heir
Was a daughter--not a son.

The girl had grown, in the mother's care,
Like a bud in the shine and shower
That drinks of the wine of the balmy air
Till it blooms into matchless flower;
Her waist was the rose's stem that bore
The flower--and the flower's perfume--
That ripens on till it bulges o'er
With its wealth of bud and bloom.

And she had a lover--lowly sprung,--
But a purer, nobler heart
Never spake in a courtlier tongue
Or wooed with a dearer art:
And the fair pair paled at the King's decree;
But the smiling Fates contrived
To have them wed, in a secrecy
That the Queen HERSELF connived--

While the grim King's heralds scoured the land
And the countries roundabout,
Shouting aloud, at the King's command,
A challenge to knave or lout,
Prince or peasant,--'The mighty King
Would have ye understand
That he who shows him the strangest thing
Shall have his daughter's hand!'

And thousands flocked to the royal throne,
Bringing a thousand things
Strange and curious;--One, a bone--
The hinge of a fairy's wings;
And one, the glass of a mermaid queen,
Gemmed with a diamond dew,
Where, down in its reflex, dimly seen,
Her face smiled out at you.

One brought a cluster of some strange date,
With a subtle and searching tang
That seemed, as you tasted, to penetrate
The heart like a serpent's fang;
And back you fell for a spell entranced,
As cold as a corpse of stone,
And heard your brains, as they laughed and danced
And talked in an undertone.

One brought a bird that could whistle a tune
So piercingly pure and sweet,
That tears would fall from the eyes of the moon
In dewdrops at its feet;
And the winds would sigh at the sweet refrain,
Till they swooned in an ecstacy,
To waken again in a hurricane
Of riot and jubilee.

One brought a lute that was wrought of a shell
Luminous as the shine
Of a new-born star in a dewy dell,--
And its strings were strands of wine
That sprayed at the Fancy's touch and fused,
As your listening spirit leant
Drunken through with the airs that oozed
From the o'ersweet instrument.

One brought a tablet of ivory
Whereon no thing was writ,--
But, at night--and the dazzled eyes would see
Flickering lines o'er it,--
And each, as you read from the magic tome,
Lightened and died in flame,
And the memory held but a golden poem
Too beautiful to name.

Till it seemed all marvels that ever were known
Or dreamed of under the sun
Were brought and displayed at the royal throne,
And put by, one by one
Till a graybeard monster came to the King--
Haggard and wrinkled and old--
And spread to his gaze this wondrous thing,--
A gossamer veil of gold.--

Strangely marvelous--mocking the gaze
Like a tangle of bright sunshine,
Dipping a million glittering rays
In a baptism divine:
And a maiden, sheened in this gauze attire--
Sifting a glance of her eye--
Dazzled men's souls with a fierce desire
To kiss and caress her and--die.

And the grim King swore by his royal beard
That the veil had won the prize,
While the gray old monster blinked and leered
With his lashless, red-rimmed eyes,
As the fainting form of the princess fell,
And the mother's heart went wild,
Throbbing and swelling a muffled knell
For the dead hopes of her child.

But her clouded face with a faint smile shone,
As suddenly, through the throng,
Pushing his way to the royal throne,
A fair youth strode along,
While a strange smile hovered about his eyes,
As he said to the grim old King:--
'The veil of gold must lose the prize;
For _I_ have a stranger thing.'

He bent and whispered a sentence brief;
But the monarch shook his head,
With a look expressive of unbelief--
'It can't be so,' he said;
'Or give me proof; and I, the King,
Give you my daughter's hand,--
For certes THAT IS a stranger thing--
THE STRANGEST THING IN THE LAND!'

Then the fair youth, turning, caught the Queen
In a rapturous caress,
While his lithe form towered in lordly mien,
As he said in a brief address:--
'My fair bride's mother is this; and, lo,
As you stare in your royal awe,
By this pure kiss do I proudly show
A LOVE FOR A MOTHER-IN-LAW!'

Then a thaw set in the old King's mood,
And a sweet Spring freshet came
Into his eyes, and his heart renewed
Its love for the favored dame:
But often he has been heard to declare
That 'he never could clearly see
How, in the deuce, such a strange affair
Could have ended so happily!'