Jest to git out o’ Liza’s view,
  An’ then Zeke said, “I want to know
  Ef you think you ’re Eliza’s beau,
  An’ ’at I ‘m goin’ to let her go
  Hum with sich a chap as you?”
  An’ I said bold, “You bet I do.” 
  Then Zekel, sneerin’, said ’at he
  Did n’t want to hender me. 
  But then he ’lowed the gal was his
  An’ ’at he guessed he knowed his biz,
  An’ was n’t feared o’ all my kin
  With all my friends an’ chums throwed in. 
  Some other things he mentioned there
  That no born man could no ways bear
  Er think o’ ca’mly tryin’ to stan’
  Ef Zeke had be’n the bigges’ man
  In town, an’ not the leanest runt
  ‘At time an’ labor ever stunt. 
  An’ so I let my fist go “bim,”
  I thought I ‘d mos’ nigh finished him. 
  But Zekel did n’t take it so. 
  He jest ducked down an’ dodged my blow
  An’ then come back at me so hard,
  I guess I must ‘a’ hurt the yard,
  Er spilet the grass plot where I fell,
  An’ sakes alive it hurt me; well,
  It would n’t be’n so bad, you see,
  But he jest kep’ a-hittin’ me. 
  An’ I hit back an’ kicked an’ pawed,
  But ’t seemed ’t was mostly air I clawed,
  While Zekel used his science well
  A-makin’ every motion tell. 
  He punched an’ hit, why, goodness lands,
  Seemed like he had a dozen hands. 
  Well, afterwhile they stopped the fuss,
  An’ some one kindly parted us. 
  All beat an’ cuffed an’ clawed an’ scratched,
  An’ needin’ both our faces patched,
  Each started hum a different way;
  An’ what o’ Liza, do you say,
  Why, Liza—­little humbug—­dern her,
  Why, she ’d gone home with Hiram Turner.

THE LOVER AND THE MOON

  A lover whom duty called over the wave,
    With himself communed:  “Will my love be true
    If left to herself?  Had I better not sue
  Some friend to watch over her, good and grave? 
    But my friend might fail in my need,” he said,
    “And I return to find love dead. 
    Since friendships fade like the flow’rs of June,
    I will leave her in charge of the stable moon.”

  Then he said to the moon:  “O dear old moon,
    Who for years and years from thy thrown above
    Hast nurtured and guarded young lovers and love,
  My heart has but come to its waiting June,
    And the promise time of the budding vine;
    Oh, guard thee well this love of mine.” 
    And he harked him then while all was still,
    And the pale moon answered and said, “I will.”

  And he sailed in his ship o’er many seas,
    And he wandered wide o’er strange far strands: 
    In isles of the south and in Orient lands,
  Where pestilence lurks in the breath of the breeze. 
    But his star was high, so he braved the main,
    And sailed him blithely home again;
    And with joy he bended his footsteps soon
    To learn of his love from the matron moon.