If Tam O'Shanter'd had a wheel, and other poems and sketches . hing!The log house there was built the springOf eighteen twenty; an he knowedJust all about who made that road!Then them old chaps would draw up nighrAn growl, like dogs, afore the fire. Ive seen em fight like barefoot kids,An clinch an punch each ethers Bangs was down, with Hodge on top,A-whimperin fur him ter stop!Hodge was a hundred, an I guessSi, when he died, was suthin less. Old settlers is so kinder sourceThey give Si carriages an if a man was ever gladTwas Hodge there in the mourners cab !He didnt make
If Tam O'Shanter'd had a wheel, and other poems and sketches . hing!The log house there was built the springOf eighteen twenty; an he knowedJust all about who made that road!Then them old chaps would draw up nighrAn growl, like dogs, afore the fire. Ive seen em fight like barefoot kids,An clinch an punch each ethers Bangs was down, with Hodge on top,A-whimperin fur him ter stop!Hodge was a hundred, an I guessSi, when he died, was suthin less. Old settlers is so kinder sourceThey give Si carriages an if a man was ever gladTwas Hodge there in the mourners cab !He didnt make no bones to sayThat he had won out, anyway. OLD SETTLERS. 77 But arter that he seemed to pine An sort o falter in the line; 4,I aint jes sick, he said, but now Life aint wuth livin enny how. Since Sis ben gone Ive thought, with pain Hed got the best of me again! Wish Id gone fust; for if I lag Sill hev another chance ter brag; An say he paved the golden street „ Afore it ever tetched my feet. But I dunno as I need care— Theres some ahead of him up there!. VINES OF MEMORY. J* Where a regiment is bivouaced In Gods quiet acre, thereWhere you see the banners waving In the fragrance-laden air,I, to-day, beheld a woman, Dark with Ethiopias hue,Pray beside the lowly pillows Of the sleeping boys in blue. Like a bronze and graven sybil, Freed from silence for a space,Stood she with her soul illuming All her dark and furrowed a score of race and kindred Gathered round her as she gaveThanks unto the God of freedom From her place beside the grave. Lord, she cried, we bring no garlandsOn this day to wreathe our dead; But we stretch our hands, unshackled,Oer each low and narrow bed;78 VINES OF MEMORY. 79 And the scarlet vines of memry, Twined with immortelles, will beRooted in these graves and growing Round the flag and up to Thee! Thou didst strike our chains asunder With thy flaming sword of Right,And from neath the cloud of bondage Led us out into the the price th
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