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James Whitcomb Riley - To My Old Friend, William Leachman
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Fer forty year and better you have been a friend to me,
Through days of sore afflictions and dire adversity,
You allus had a kind word of counsul to impart,
Which was like a healin` `intment to the sorrow of my hart.

When I burried my first womern, William Leachman, it was you
Had the only consolation that I could listen to--
Fer I knowed you had gone through it and had rallied from the blow,
And when you said I`d do the same, I knowed you`d ort to know.

But that time I`ll long remember; how I wundered here and thare--
Through the settin`-room and kitchen, and out in the open air--
And the snowflakes whirlin`, whirlin`, and the fields a frozen glare,
And the neghbors` sleds and wagons congergatin` ev`rywhare.

I turned my eyes to`rds heaven, but the sun was hid away;
I turned my eyes to`rds earth again, but all was cold and gray;
And the clock, like ice a-crackin`, clickt the icy hours in two--
And my eyes`d never thawed out ef it hadn`t been fer you!

We set thare by the smoke-house--me and you out thare alone--
Me a-thinkin`--you a-talkin` in a soothin` undertone--
You a-talkin`--me a-thinkin` of the summers long ago,
And a-writin` "Marthy--Marthy" with my finger in the snow!

William Leachman, I can see you jest as plane as I could then;
And your hand is on my shoulder, and you rouse me up again,
And I see the tears a-drippin` from your own eyes, as you say:
"Be rickonciled and bear it--we but linger fer a day!"

At the last Old Settlers` Meetin` we went j`intly, you and me--
Your hosses and my wagon, as you wanted it to be;
And sence I can remember, from the time we`ve neghbored here,
In all sich friendly actions you have double-done your sheer.

It was better than the meetin`, too, that nine-mile talk we had
Of the times when we first settled here and travel was so bad;
When we had to go on hoss-back, and sometimes on "Shanks`s mare,"
And "blaze" a road fer them behind that had to travel thare.

And now we was a-trottin` `long a level gravel pike,
In a big two-hoss road-wagon, jest as easy as you like--
Two of us on the front seat, and our wimmern-folks behind,
A-settin` in theyr Winsor-cheers in perfect peace of mind!

And we pinted out old landmarks, nearly faded out of sight:--
Thare they ust to rob the stage-coach; thare Gash Morgan had the fight
With the old stag-deer that pronged him--how he battled fer his life,
And lived to prove the story by the handle of his knife.

Thare the first griss-mill was put up in the Settlement, and we
Had tuck our grindin` to it in the Fall of Forty-three--
When we tuck our rifles with us, techin` elbows all the way,
And a-stickin` right together ev`ry minute, night and day.

Thare ust to stand the tavern that they called the "Travelers` Rest,"
And thare, beyent the covered bridge, "The Counter-fitters` Nest"--
Whare they claimed the house was ha`nted--that a man was murdered thare,
And burried underneath the floor, er `round the place somewhare.

And the old Plank-road they laid along in Fifty-one er two--
You know we talked about the times when that old road was new:
How "Uncle Sam" put down that road and never taxed the State
Was a problem, don`t you rickollect, we couldn`t _dim_-onstrate?

Ways was devius, William Leachman, that me and you has past;
But as I found you true at first, I find you true at last;
And, now the time`s a-comin` mighty nigh our jurney`s end,
I want to throw wide open all my soul to you, my friend.

With the stren`th of all my bein`, and the heat of hart and brane,
And ev`ry livin` drop of blood in artery and vane,
I love you and respect you, and I venerate your name,
Fer the name of William Leachman and True Manhood`s jest the same!
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