I strike a stump!  That wakes me sudden;
    Dreams all vanish into air. 
  Lordy! how I chew my whiskers;
    ’Twouldn’t do fur me to swear. 
  But I have to be so keerful
    ‘Bout my thoughts an’ what I say;
  Somethin’ might slip out unheeded,
    ’Cause it’s hot to-day.

  Git up, there, Suke! you, Sal, git over! 
    Sakes alive! how I do sweat. 
  Every stitch that I’ve got on me,
  Bet a cent, is wringin’ wet. 
  If this keeps up, I’ll lose my temper. 
    Gee there, Sal, you lazy brute! 
  Wonder who on airth this weather
    Could ‘a’ be’n got up to suit?

  You, Sam, go bring a tin o’ water;
    Dash it all, don’t be so slow! 
  ’Pears as ef you tuk an hour
    ‘Tween each step to stop an’ blow. 
  Think I want to stand a meltin’
    Out here in this b’ilin’ sun,
  While you stop to think about it? 
    Lift them feet o’ your’n an’ run.

  It ain’t no use; I’m plumb fetaggled. 
    Come an’ put this team away. 
  I won’t plow another furrer;
    It’s too mortal hot to-day. 
  I ain’t weak, nor I ain’t lazy,
    But I’ll stand this half day’s loss
  ’Fore I let the devil make me
    Lose my patience an’ git cross.

IN SUMMER TIME

  When summer time has come, and all
  The world is in the magic thrall
  Of perfumed airs that lull each sense
  To fits of drowsy indolence;
  When skies are deepest blue above,
  And flow’rs aflush,—­then most I love
  To start, while early dews are damp,
  And wend my way in woodland tramp
  Where forests rustle, tree on tree,
  And sing their silent songs to me;
  Where pathways meet and path ways part,—­
  To walk with Nature heart by heart,
  Till wearied out at last I lie
  Where some sweet stream steals singing by
  A mossy bank; where violets vie
  In color with the summer sky,—­
  Or take my rod and line and hook,
  And wander to some darkling brook,
  Where all day long the willows dream,
  And idly droop to kiss the stream,
  And there to loll from morn till night—­
  Unheeding nibble, run, or bite—­
  Just for the joy of being there
  And drinking in the summer air,
  The summer sounds, and summer sights,
  That set a restless mind to rights
  When grief and pain and raging doubt
  Of men and creeds have worn it out;
  The birds’ song and the water’s drone,
  The humming bees’ low monotone,
  The murmur of the passing breeze,
  And all the sounds akin to these,
  That make a man in summer time
  Feel only fit for rest and rhyme. 
  Joy springs all radiant in my breast;
  Though pauper poor, than king more blest,
  The tide beats in my soul so strong
  That happiness breaks forth in song,
  And rings aloud the welkin blue
  With all the songs I ever knew. 
  O time of rapture! time of song! 
  How swiftly glide thy days along
  Adown the current of the years,
  Above the rocks of grief and tears! 
  ’Tis wealth enough of joy for me
  In summer time to simply be.