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James Russell Lowell - The Courtin`
Work rating: Low

God makes sech nights, all white an` still
Fur `z you can look or listen,
Moonshine an` snow on field an` hill,
All silence an` all glisten.

Zekle crep` up quite unbeknown
An` peeked in thru` the winder,
An` there sot Huldy all alone,
`Ith no one nigh to hender.

A fireplace filled the room`s one side
With half a cord o` wood in—
There warn`t no stoves (tell comfort died)
To bake ye to a puddin`.

The wa`nut logs shot sparkles out
Towards the pootiest, bless her,
An` leetle flames danced all about
The chiny on the dresser.

Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung,
An` in amongst `em rusted
The ole queen`s arm thet gran`ther Young
Fetched back from Concord busted.

The very room, coz she was in,
Seemed warm from floor to ceilin`,
An` she looked full ez rosy agin
Ez the apples she was peelin`.

`Twas kin` o` kingdom-come to look
On seek a blessed cretur,
A dogrose blushin` to a brook
Ain`t modester nor sweeter.

He was six foot o` man, A 1,
Clean grit an` human natur`;
None couldn`t quicker pitch a ton
Nor dror a furrer straighter.

He`d sparked it with full twenty gals,
He`d squired `em, danced `em, druv `em,
Fust this one, an` then thet, by spells—
All is, he couldn`t love `em.

But long o` her his veins `ould run
All crinkly like curled maple,
The side she breshed felt full o` sun
Ez a south slope in Ap`il.

She thought no v`ice hed sech a swing
Ez hisn in the choir;
My! when he made Ole Hunderd ring,
She knowed the Lord was nigher.

An` she`d blush scarlit, right in prayer,
When her new meetin`-bunnet
Felt somehow thru` its crown a pair
O` blue eyes sot upun it.

Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some!
She seemed to `ve gut a new soul,
For she felt sartin-sure he`d come,
Down to her very shoe-sole.

She heered a foot, an` knowed it tu;
A-raspin` on the scraper,—
All ways to once her feelin`s flew
Like sparks in burnt-up paper.

He kin` o` l`itered on the mat,
Some doubtfle o` the sekle,
His heart kep` goin` pity-pat,
But hern went pity Zekle.

An` yit she gin her cheer a jerk
Ez though she wished him furder,
An` on her apples kep` to work,
Parin` away like murder.

"you want to see my Pa, I s`pose?"
"Wal…no…I come dasignin`"—
"To see my Ma? She`s sprinklin` clo`es
Agin to-morrer`s i`nin`."

To say why gals acts so or so,
Or don`t, `ould be presumin`;
Mebby to mean yes an` say no
Comes nateral to women.

He stood a spell on one foot fust,
Then stood a spell on t`other,
An` on which one he felt the wust
He couldn`t ha` told ye nuther.

Says he, "I`d better call agin;"
Says she, "Think likely, Mister;"
Thet last word pricked him like a pin,
An`… Wal, he up an` kist her.

When Ma bimeby upon `em slips,
Huldy sot pale ez ashes,
All kin` o` smily roun` the lips
An` teary roun` the lashes.

For she was jes` the quiet kind
Whose naturs never vary,
Like streams that keep a summer mind
Snowhid in Jenooary.

The blood clost roun` her heart felt glued
Too tight for all expressin`,
Tell mother see how metters stood,
And gin `em both her blessin`.

Then her red come back like the tide
Down to the Bay o` Fundy,
An` all I know is they was cried
In meetin` come nex` Sunday.
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