Ben King's Verse. Benjamin Franklin King
Table of Contents
If I could only wander back
To boyhood jest one day,
So'st' I could have my chice agin
Of games we used to play,
I'd let the kites an' marbles go,
An' say, "Come on, boys! let's
All go out a-huntin' fer
The yaller jackets' nest."
Jest to lay up in the shadder
Of the fence once agin
Of the old vacant lot
'At the cows pastured in,
Where the dandelions were bloomin',
'N there take a rest,
While you listen to the music
'Round the yaller jackets' nest.
There was one 'at allers went along
An' romped with us 'n raced,
With her sun-bonnet a-hangin' back
'N curls down to 'er waist,
In the checkered little frock she wore
Of gingham,--what a pest
She was to us when huntin' fer
The yaller jackets' nest.
It's the prime of the blossms
'At's a-hangin' from the trees
An' the music of the buzzin'
'At brings lonesome memories,
Fer it seems as if I heerd her say
"You better look out, lest
They all swarm out and sting yeh
From the yaller jackets' nest."
Sometimes I think I hear 'er voice
An' see 'er eyes of blue,
That borried all their color from
The sky 'at peeks at you
Between the clouds in summer
After rain has fell an' blessed
The flowers an' openin' blossoms
'Round the yaller jackets' nest.
How Hank Died
"Mother, the shadows are gatherin' in,
Shadows o' sunshine and shadows o' sin,
Shadows o' sorrow and shadows o' gloom,
All of 'em gatherin' now in my room.
See over there near the mantel-place wall
Is the darkest shadow. What's that--a call?
Oh, let in the light, keep that shadow away,
The one with the sickle that cuts to-day,
And far over there in the sunlands' West
I'll work in the pastur' after I rest.
"Oh, to get out o' this valley o' sin
Up in the cool o' the hillside agin!
Where are the boys? All away? Where's M'liss?
Who's holdin' my hand, an' whose arm is this?
Oh, here comes the shadow that beckons--what pain!
It must not come near me! Hear that? That rain
On the windows? See, down by the foot-board, where
The curtain moves! A shadow is there,
Comin' on tiptoe! It's after the light.
Oh, don't give it welcome, that shadow of night!
"Don't leave me waitin' here now in the dark
The shadows are entering. What--music? Hark!
Can that be the soft winds of summer that send
Their sighs o'er the fields for the loss of a friend?
So cold? I am getting so cold, so cold.
Oh, why are the shadows so bold, so bold?
Here comes the grim shadow, the shadow of Death;
The cavern-eyed shadow that asks for my breath."
* * * * *
"Good-bye," said the toiler; "good-bye every one."
Then somebody whispered: "The reaper is done."
His head fell back, and down by his side
His white hand dropped. That's how Hank died.
How Often
They stood on the bridge at midnight,
In a park not far from town;
They stood on the bridge at midnight
Because they didn't sit down.
The moon rose o'er the city
Behind the dark church spire;
The moon rose o'er the city
And kept on rising higher.
How often, oh! how often
They whispered words so soft;
How often, oh! how often,
How often, oh! how oft.
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