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James Whitcomb Riley - Uncle Mart`s Poem
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THE OLD SNOW-MAN

Ho! the old Snow-Man
  That Noey Bixler made!
He looked as fierce and sassy
  As a soldier on parade!--
`Cause Noey, when he made him,
  While we all wuz gone, you see,
He made him, jist a-purpose,
  Jist as fierce as he could be!--
    But when we all got _ust_ to him,
      Nobody wuz afraid
    Of the old Snow-Man
      That Noey Bixler made!

`Cause Noey told us `bout him
  And what he made him fer:--
He`d come to feed, that morning
  He found we wuzn`t here;
And so the notion struck him,
  When we all come taggin` home
`Tud _s`prise_ us ef a` old Snow-Man
  `Ud meet us when we come!
So, when he`d fed the stock, and milked,
  And ben back home, and chopped
His wood, and et his breakfast, he
  Jist grabbed his mitts and hopped
Right in on that-air old Snow-Man
  That he laid out he`d make
Er bust a trace _a-tryin_`--jist
  Fer old-acquaintance sake!--
    But work like that wuz lots more fun.
      He said, than when he played!
    Ho! the old Snow-Man
      That Noey Bixler made!

He started with a big snow-ball,
  And rolled it all around;
And as he rolled, more snow `ud stick
  And pull up off the ground.--
He rolled and rolled all round the yard--
  `Cause we could see the _track_,
All wher` the snow come off, you know,
  And left it wet and black.
He got the Snow-Man`s _legs-part_ rolled--
  In front the kitchen-door,--
And then he hat to turn in then
  And roll and roll some more!--
He rolled the yard all round agin,
  And round the house, at that--
Clean round the house and back to wher`
  The blame legs-half wuz at!
    He said he missed his dinner, too--
      Jist clean fergot and stayed
    There workin`. Ho! the old Snow-Man
      That Noey Bixler made!

And Noey said he hat to _hump_
  To git the _top-half_ on
The _legs-half!_--When he _did_, he said,
  His wind wuz purt`-nigh gone.--
He said, I jucks! he jist drapped down
  There on the old porch-floor
And panted like a dog!--And then
  He up! and rolled some more!--
The _last_ batch--that wuz fer his head,--
  And--time he`d got it right
And clumb and fixed it on, he said--
  He hat to quit fer night!--
And _then_, he said, he`d kep` right on
  Ef they`d ben any _moon_
To work by! So he crawled in bed--
  And _could_ a-slep` tel _noon_,
    He wuz so plum wore out! he said,--
      But it wuz washin`-day,
    And hat to cut a cord o` wood
      `Fore he could git away!

But, last, he got to work agin,--
  With spade, and gouge, and hoe,
And trowel, too--(All tools `ud do
  What _Noey_ said, you know!)
He cut his eyebrows out like cliffs--
  And his cheekbones and chin
Stuck _furder_ out--and his old _nose_
  Stuck out as fur-agin!
He made his eyes o` walnuts,
  And his whiskers out o` this
Here buggy-cushion stuffin`--_moss_,
  The teacher says it is.
And then he made a` old wood`-gun,
  Set keerless-like, you know,
Acrost one shoulder--kindo` like
  Big Foot, er Adam Poe--
    Er, mayby, Simon Girty,
      The dinged old Renegade!
    _Wooh!_ the old Snow-Man
      That Noey Bixler made!

And there he stood, all fierce and grim,
  A stern, heroic form:
What was the winter blast to him,
  And what the driving storm?--
What wonder that the children pressed
  Their faces at the pane
And scratched away the frost, in pride
  To look on him again?--
    What wonder that, with yearning bold,
      Their all of love and care
    Went warmest through the keenest cold
      To that Snow-Man out there!

But the old Snow-Man--
  What a dubious delight
He grew at last when Spring came on
  And days waxed warm and bright.--
Alone he stood--all kith and kin
  Of snow and ice were gone;--
Alone, with constant teardrops in
  His eyes and glittering on
His thin, pathetic beard of black--
  Grief in a hopeless cause!--
Hope--hope is for the man that _dies_--
  What for the man that _thaws!_
    O Hero of a hero`s make!--
      Let _marble_ melt and fade,
    But never _you_--you old Snow-Man
      That Noey Bixler made!
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