Complete Poetical Works by Bret Harte Part 40

How soft lies the mud on the banks of yon slough By the hole in the levee the waters broke through!

All nature, dear Chloris, is blooming to greet The glance of your eye and the tread of your feet; For the trails are all open, the roads are all free, And the highwayman's whistle is heard on the lea.

Again swings the lash on the high mountain trail, And the pipe of the packer is scenting the gale; The oath and the jest ringing high o'er the plain, Where the s.m.u.t is not always confined to the grain.

Once more glares the sunlight on awning and roof, Once more the red clay's pulverized by the hoof, Once more the dust powders the "outsides" with red, Once more at the station the whiskey is spread.

Then fly with me, love, ere the summer's begun, And the mercury mounts to one hundred and one; Ere the gra.s.s now so green shall be withered and sear, In the spring that obtains but one month in the year.

WHAT THE ENGINES SAID

(OPENING OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD)

What was it the Engines said, Pilots touching,--head to head Facing on the single track, Half a world behind each back?

This is what the Engines said, Unreported and unread.

With a prefatory screech, In a florid Western speech, Said the Engine from the WEST: "I am from Sierra's crest; And if alt.i.tude's a test, Why, I reckon, it's confessed That I've done my level best."

Said the Engine from the EAST: "They who work best talk the least.

S'pose you whistle down your brakes; What you've done is no great shakes, Pretty fair,--but let our meeting Be a different kind of greeting.

Let these folks with champagne stuffing, Not their Engines, do the PUFFING.

"Listen! Where Atlantic beats Sh.o.r.es of snow and summer heats; Where the Indian autumn skies Paint the woods with wampum dyes,-- I have chased the flying sun, Seeing all he looked upon, Blessing all that he has blessed, Nursing in my iron breast All his vivifying heat, All his clouds about my crest; And before my flying feet Every shadow must retreat."

Said the Western Engine, "Phew!"

And a long, low whistle blew.

"Come, now, really that's the oddest Talk for one so very modest.

You brag of your East! YOU do?

Why, I bring the East to YOU!

All the Orient, all Cathay, Find through me the shortest way; And the sun you follow here Rises in my hemisphere.

Really,--if one must be rude,-- Length, my friend, ain't longitude."

Said the Union: "Don't reflect, or I'll run over some Director."

Said the Central: "I'm Pacific; But, when riled, I'm quite terrific.

Yet to-day we shall not quarrel, Just to show these folks this moral, How two Engines--in their vision-- Once have met without collision."

That is what the Engines said, Unreported and unread; Spoken slightly through the nose, With a whistle at the close.

THE LEGENDS OF THE RHINE

Beetling walls with ivy grown, Frowning heights of mossy stone; Turret, with its flaunting flag Flung from battlemented crag; Dungeon-keep and fortalice Looking down a precipice O'er the darkly glancing wave By the Lurline-haunted cave; Robber haunt and maiden bower, Home of Love and Crime and Power,-- That's the scenery, in fine, Of the Legends of the Rhine.

One bold baron, double-dyed Bigamist and parricide, And, as most the stories run, Partner of the Evil One; Injured innocence in white, Fair but idiotic quite, Wringing of her lily hands; Valor fresh from Paynim lands, Abbot ruddy, hermit pale, Minstrel fraught with many a tale,-- Are the actors that combine In the Legends of the Rhine.

Bell-mouthed flagons round a board; Suits of armor, s.h.i.+eld, and sword; Kerchief with its b.l.o.o.d.y stain; Ghosts of the untimely slain; Thunder-clap and clanking chain; Headsman's block and s.h.i.+ning axe; Thumb-screw, crucifixes, racks; Midnight-tolling chapel bell, Heard across the gloomy fell,-- These and other pleasant facts Are the properties that s.h.i.+ne In the Legends of the Rhine.

Maledictions, whispered vows Underneath the linden boughs; Murder, bigamy, and theft; Travelers of goods bereft; Rapine, pillage, arson, spoil,-- Everything but honest toil, Are the deeds that best define Every Legend of the Rhine.

That Virtue always meets reward, But quicker when it wears a sword; That Providence has special care Of gallant knight and lady fair; That villains, as a thing of course, Are always haunted by remorse,-- Is the moral, I opine, Of the Legends of the Rhine.

SONGS WITHOUT SENSE

FOR THE PARLOR AND PIANO

I. THE PERSONIFIED SENTIMENTAL

Affection's charm no longer gilds The idol of the shrine; But cold Oblivion seeks to fill Regret's ambrosial wine.

Though Friends.h.i.+p's offering buried lies 'Neath cold Aversion's snow, Regard and Faith will ever bloom Perpetually below.

I see thee whirl in marble halls, In Pleasure's giddy train; Remorse is never on that brow, Nor Sorrow's mark of pain.

Deceit has marked thee for her own; Inconstancy the same; And Ruin wildly sheds its gleam Athwart thy path of shame.

II. THE HOMELY PATHETIC

The dews are heavy on my brow; My breath comes hard and low; Yet, mother dear, grant one request, Before your boy must go.

Oh! lift me ere my spirit sinks, And ere my senses fail, Place me once more, O mother dear, Astride the old fence-rail.

The old fence-rail, the old fence-rail!

How oft these youthful legs, With Alice' and Ben Bolt's, were hung Across those wooden pegs!

'Twas there the nauseating smoke Of my first pipe arose: O mother dear, these agonies Are far less keen than those.

I know where lies the hazel dell, Where simple Nellie sleeps; I know the cot of Nettie Moore, And where the willow weeps.

I know the brookside and the mill, But all their pathos fails Beside the days when once I sat Astride the old fence-rails.

III. SWISS AIR

I'm a gay tra, la, la, With my fal, lal, la, la, And my bright-- And my light-- Tra, la, le. [Repeat.]

Then laugh, ha, ha, ha, And ring, ting, ling, ling, And sing fal, la, la, La, la, le. [Repeat.]

VI. LITTLE POSTERITY

MASTER JOHNNY'S NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR