Poems of emotional love, and other poems . piness,I have not the heart to scold my wayward Bess. 96 POEMS OF EMOTIONAL LOVE THE VILLAGE STORE Novembers sun dropt oer the crestOf distant hills and left the westA crimson hue, and everywhereSweet autumn odors filled the far-off trees, grown thick and high,Stood dark and bold against the sky,And way down in the valley allThe evening birds began to call. The village maidens, after forth the village sights to see,The while the youth who lived aboutLit corncob pipes and ventured mothers tidied up indoorsAnd did a dozen li
Poems of emotional love, and other poems . piness,I have not the heart to scold my wayward Bess. 96 POEMS OF EMOTIONAL LOVE THE VILLAGE STORE Novembers sun dropt oer the crestOf distant hills and left the westA crimson hue, and everywhereSweet autumn odors filled the far-off trees, grown thick and high,Stood dark and bold against the sky,And way down in the valley allThe evening birds began to call. The village maidens, after forth the village sights to see,The while the youth who lived aboutLit corncob pipes and ventured mothers tidied up indoorsAnd did a dozen little chores,And when their earnest prayers were said,Before twas dark had gone to bed. The village store, this autumn quite a pleasing sight;The old stove, standing half-way back,Spit fire from out each time-worn a warmth about the to death the monster ceiling overhead was seared-And seamed where it had been here and there where plaster fellA hole was left the tale to The Village Store that Autumn Night AND OTHER POEMS gg A large oil lantern, from a beamSuspended, shed a ruddy gleamOn shelves and boxes in a rowWhich brightly shone beneath its glow. There, as the eve grew on, were foundThe village masters gathered roundTo hear the news and take a smokeAnd turn by turn the fire keeper of the store was thereAnd stood erect, with haughty air,As though he were a King whose courtHad gathered for an evenings sport. There sat the Blacksmith, big and stout,Who shoed the horses round about;The Doctor, with his chest of tended to the village was the burly City ClerkWho drew a salary without work;The Teacher of the public schools,Who wielded birch and taught the rules,The County Judge, with squeaky shoes,Who fairly reeked with latest Parson, too, had happened inAnd though he recognized the sinOf gossiping, would seldom called upon, to tell a tale. The lantern seemed to
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