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James Russell Lowell - High-Worthy Mister!
Work rating: Low

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

Agin` the chimbly crooknecks hung,
  An` in amongst `em rusted
The ole queen`s-arm thet gran`ther Young
  Fetched back frum Concord busted.

The wannut logs shot sparkles out
  Towards the pootiest, bless her!
An` leetle fires danced all about
  The chlny on the dresser.

The very room, coz she wuz in,
  Looked warm frum floor to ceilin`,
An` she looked full ez rosy agin
  Ez th` apples she wuz peelin`.

She heerd a foot an` knowed it, tu,
  Araspin` on the scraper,--
All ways to once her feelins flew
  Like sparks in burnt-up paper.

He kin` o` l`itered on the mat,
  Some doubtfle o` the seekle;
His heart kep` goin` pitypat,
  But hern went pity Zekle.

An` yet she gin her cheer a jerk
  Ez though she wished him furder,
An` on her apples kep` to work
  Ez ef a wager spurred her.

`You want to see my Pa, I spose?`
  `Wall, no; I come designin`--`
`To see my Ma? She`s sprinklin` clo`es
  Agin to-morrow`s i`nin`.`

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

Sez he, `I`d better call agin;`
  Sez she,`Think likely, _Mister;_`
The last word pricked him like a pin,
  An`--wal, he up and kist her.

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

Her blood riz quick, though, like the tide
  Down to the Bay o` Fundy,
An` all I know is they wuz cried
  In meetin`, come nex Sunday.
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