Swazy folks and others; poems . e growing up—youre six today!3 4© SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS The Lonesome Time o Night. nr^HERE is sometimes in the evenin jist beyantthe aidge of dayWhen the whipperwills is whipperwiUinyender in the gum,An the cattle air a-chankin in their shifless sorto way,An most everthing thats kumpany is sorto laid out dumb—?Oh, its then a fellers feelins seem t sumhowgee an haw,An theres sumpin seems t bubble up anclog his wizzen tight—Mother takes my hand in hern an she kind owhispers: Paw,Aint this * * * * 2. lonesome time onight. Round the house theres shadders flittin —
Swazy folks and others; poems . e growing up—youre six today!3 4© SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS The Lonesome Time o Night. nr^HERE is sometimes in the evenin jist beyantthe aidge of dayWhen the whipperwills is whipperwiUinyender in the gum,An the cattle air a-chankin in their shifless sorto way,An most everthing thats kumpany is sorto laid out dumb—?Oh, its then a fellers feelins seem t sumhowgee an haw,An theres sumpin seems t bubble up anclog his wizzen tight—Mother takes my hand in hern an she kind owhispers: Paw,Aint this * * * * 2. lonesome time onight. Round the house theres shadders flittin — wecant see em, maw er theres sumpin tells the both of us theyhover round our chair—Of a little brood o childurn Heaven sent t sichas we loved em O so happy-like untwellHe took em There !An it left us sort o gropin fer the things wecudnt see;Though Im past a-faultin Providence, itdidnt seem jist right—An I know that maw thinks on it when she whis-pers low t me:Aint this * * * * 3 lonesome time The Lonesome Time o Night SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS 43 We are agein, me an mother, an were turninin the lane—We are reachin what the deacon calls the endo* airthly strife;An this silent evenin hour now, strikes me purtyplainAs the correspondin time o day that wc havereached in life,An we haint a chick ner grandchild for t* sum-how sort o saveThese ere few remainin* minits an to smile anmake em bright;An I know that maw thinks on it when she whis-pers to me: Dave,Aint this * * * * a lonesome time onight. 44 SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS The Hushed Voice. ^TITHAT mother said—it didnt matter then, ~ * A loving word, perchance, and then childish wrath came in our simple play And little woes beset Youths rosy way,Her sweetly gentle words dispelled the wrath. And coaxed the buds to bloom along our path;Her voice was sweet to greet the morning sun. And, sweeter still, when Golden Days were done,Her soft good night that sent us to our bed— It didnt matter
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