RAKING THE MEADOW-LOT.
A HAY-TIME IDYL.
“We’ll mow,” quoth old farmer Jacobs, “the new corner medderto-day—Nell, you come an’ help with the rakin’—its right ketchin’ weatherfor hay;Neighbor Smith’s Jim, he’s bin to the city, an’ a new-fangled patenthe’s bought;An’ he’s bound to come over this mornin’, an’ streak through thatair medder-lot.He sez—an’ I tell him the kaounty ain’t able to beat him forcheek—The thing’ll do more execution than me an’ my boys in aweek;But he offered so kinder perlite-like (I’ve no faith in thegimcrack—not I),I couldn’t do other than ’low him to fetch the queer critter an’try.”Pretty Nell, skimming cream in the dairy, peeped out through thevine-shaded pane,As Jim, with “Old Roan” and “Black Billy” went clattering downthrough the lane;And was it the “new-fangled mower” her shy blue eyes followed?I weenFrom the blushes that deepened and flitted, it could not have beenthe machine.Prone under the lengthening shadows the feathery meadow-grasslay;The daises uncrowned in their glory, sun-smitten, slowfading away;The cardinal flower in the ditches, rose proudly, right royallydressed,And restlessly hither and hither moaned the bobolinks spoiled oftheir nest.Fair Nellie outrivalled the daises; and so, it was plain, thoughtyoung Jim,Or else that such dainty hay-making required much assistance fromhim;And if ever the lost joy of Eden came back to this earth longforgot,It came to these blissful young lovers, a raking the new meadow-lot.“What’s this that you ax for—myNellie?—Wal, if I ain’tbeat—can it beIt wasn’t myhaybut mydartermade you mightyobleegin’ to me?You don’t desarve her, you rascal, but”—the shrewd grayeyes twinkled—“I guess—Considerin’ the help you’ll be hayin’—I s’pose—shall hevto say—yes.”Ruth Revere.
“We’ll mow,” quoth old farmer Jacobs, “the new corner medderto-day—Nell, you come an’ help with the rakin’—its right ketchin’ weatherfor hay;Neighbor Smith’s Jim, he’s bin to the city, an’ a new-fangled patenthe’s bought;An’ he’s bound to come over this mornin’, an’ streak through thatair medder-lot.He sez—an’ I tell him the kaounty ain’t able to beat him forcheek—The thing’ll do more execution than me an’ my boys in aweek;But he offered so kinder perlite-like (I’ve no faith in thegimcrack—not I),I couldn’t do other than ’low him to fetch the queer critter an’try.”Pretty Nell, skimming cream in the dairy, peeped out through thevine-shaded pane,As Jim, with “Old Roan” and “Black Billy” went clattering downthrough the lane;And was it the “new-fangled mower” her shy blue eyes followed?I weenFrom the blushes that deepened and flitted, it could not have beenthe machine.Prone under the lengthening shadows the feathery meadow-grasslay;The daises uncrowned in their glory, sun-smitten, slowfading away;The cardinal flower in the ditches, rose proudly, right royallydressed,And restlessly hither and hither moaned the bobolinks spoiled oftheir nest.Fair Nellie outrivalled the daises; and so, it was plain, thoughtyoung Jim,Or else that such dainty hay-making required much assistance fromhim;And if ever the lost joy of Eden came back to this earth longforgot,It came to these blissful young lovers, a raking the new meadow-lot.“What’s this that you ax for—myNellie?—Wal, if I ain’tbeat—can it beIt wasn’t myhaybut mydartermade you mightyobleegin’ to me?You don’t desarve her, you rascal, but”—the shrewd grayeyes twinkled—“I guess—Considerin’ the help you’ll be hayin’—I s’pose—shall hevto say—yes.”Ruth Revere.
“We’ll mow,” quoth old farmer Jacobs, “the new corner medderto-day—Nell, you come an’ help with the rakin’—its right ketchin’ weatherfor hay;Neighbor Smith’s Jim, he’s bin to the city, an’ a new-fangled patenthe’s bought;An’ he’s bound to come over this mornin’, an’ streak through thatair medder-lot.
He sez—an’ I tell him the kaounty ain’t able to beat him forcheek—The thing’ll do more execution than me an’ my boys in aweek;But he offered so kinder perlite-like (I’ve no faith in thegimcrack—not I),I couldn’t do other than ’low him to fetch the queer critter an’try.”
Pretty Nell, skimming cream in the dairy, peeped out through thevine-shaded pane,As Jim, with “Old Roan” and “Black Billy” went clattering downthrough the lane;And was it the “new-fangled mower” her shy blue eyes followed?I weenFrom the blushes that deepened and flitted, it could not have beenthe machine.
Prone under the lengthening shadows the feathery meadow-grasslay;The daises uncrowned in their glory, sun-smitten, slowfading away;The cardinal flower in the ditches, rose proudly, right royallydressed,And restlessly hither and hither moaned the bobolinks spoiled oftheir nest.
Fair Nellie outrivalled the daises; and so, it was plain, thoughtyoung Jim,Or else that such dainty hay-making required much assistance fromhim;And if ever the lost joy of Eden came back to this earth longforgot,It came to these blissful young lovers, a raking the new meadow-lot.
“What’s this that you ax for—myNellie?—Wal, if I ain’tbeat—can it beIt wasn’t myhaybut mydartermade you mightyobleegin’ to me?You don’t desarve her, you rascal, but”—the shrewd grayeyes twinkled—“I guess—Considerin’ the help you’ll be hayin’—I s’pose—shall hevto say—yes.”Ruth Revere.