To My Old Friend, William Leachman
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.
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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Added by Poetry Lover
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