Читать книгу Voices; Birth-Marks; The Man and the Elephant - Mathew Joseph Holt - Страница 9

Table of Contents

I.

Jeannette, by man though rarely seen;

Is a friend of Running Water,

To the Mountain, fairest daughter,

To the forest, stateliest queen.

She hears mystic voices whisper

As a spirit to his sister.

Songs you and I have never known.

The trees speak of coming showers,

Earth creatures of twilight hours;

The owl tells secrets of the night,

The robin sings of dawn’s delight,

The lark of harvest and ripe moon;

But when love whispers I’ll call soon,

She’s thinking of the distant moon.

II.

Jeannette, think you your paradise

Will always remain quite this nice,

Unless real love shall come as guest?

Fair one, think you the summer sun

Will last until your life is done

And spirit love not flit away;

Nor sun sink low in golden west,

Nor night come round at end of day?

Do you not fear those long, black nights,

Which come with winter’s storm and rain,

And put an end to life’s delights,

Giving voice to trouble and pain?

Then whisper to love the password,

And he will enter, having heard.

III.

Sentiment may own yesterday,

But love today has right of way;

Hope builds castles for tomorrow,

Of warm sunbeams, not of sorrow;

Memories drape life with sadness;

[pg 68]

Love walks hand in hand with gladness.

To the past we dedicate tears,

Love owns today and coming years;

Take his warm hand and walk with me;

Let life be what the future be,

I wish it spent, Jeannette, with thee;

And when old age delves in the past,

May love say, “I have held full sway,

For memories fair crown each day.”

————

Then, for more than an hour, an angel without the bower, kept strangers away and enjoined silence. He did not stand with flaming sword, but with finger on his lips.

————

They walked down to the old field below the Rock House. Near its center was an old dead tree; and on the tip of the topmost snag a lark sang.

“Listen, do you hear what he says.”

“No, he’s whistling like any other meadow lark.”

“Translate.”

“I do not know the language.”

“I do; ‘Love, thou art safe! art safe! I watch for thee! for thee!’”

They led the old mule to the barn, and gave him ten ears of corn and two bundles of oats. Sandy got up at daylight the next morning and repeated the dose; the old mule knew something was up. Then Sandy came to the house and put on some clothes that had been sent up from Red Bird. Jeannette came to breakfast a little late; she had on a short-skirted riding habit. Simeon and his wife tried not to show their surprise. She kept still; he exercised less restraint or exhibited more curiosity than his wife—they say men have more. “What’s [pg 69] up, Sandy? Why have you put on your Sunday clothes, this is Saturday?”

And Sandy answered: “Jeannette and I are going to Hyden to be married.”

“Well, I’ll be d——d! How’re you going?”

“She’ll ride the old mule; I’ll walk and lead the beast.”

“Why it’s fifteen miles; it’ll take all day.”

“That’s all right.”

“You better take my horse.”

“No, Jeannette wants to ride the old mule and wants me to lead him. She’s boss until tomorrow.”

“Well, I’ll be d——d!”

————

It was nearly midnight when they came home again. After feeding the old mule, they sat down on the door-step.

“My Captain, will you get your violin and play some real music?”

“Jeannette, how did that old mule ever manage to travel to Hyden and back with such a load of sweetness?”

“By dint of placing one foot before the other, Sandy. We were only sixteen hours on the road; we made nearly two miles an hour. I do not think I would care to hear ‘The Arkansaw Traveler’ after that journey; but suppose you end the day, it must be merging into the morrow, by playing ‘Turkey in the Straw.’”

The old familiar tune awoke Simeon and he awoke his wife. “Listen, Mandy! those crazy things are back. Hear Sandy, he’s playing ‘Turkey in the Straw;’ that boy will never settle down.” He called out: “Go to bed and give other people a chance to sleep; or else keep still and start breakfast.”

[pg 70] In a little while the house was very still. There was no sound except the chirping of the cricket of the hearth. You who dwell in cities and know nothing of firesides, may not appreciate his simple song.