The Cornflower, and Other Poems

A well – a good one – should take the place
Of the deathtrap that was there.
"This should all be done at once," she said.
Cost five hundred dollars clear!

I told her I couldn't think of it,
But, when all my work was through,
If the taxes came in middling good,
I would see what I could do.

"Remember you're only the steward,"
She said, "of your acres broad,
And that the cry of a little child
Goes straight to the ears of God."

I remarked that it wasn't her place
To dictate to the trustee,
And Cornflower lifted her eyes of blue
And looked what she thought of me.

That night as we came up from the fields,
And talked of the threatened frost,
The chore-boy called out, half pleased, half scared:
"The school-ma'am's got herself lost."

I turned me about and spoke no word;
I'd find her and let her see
I held no spite 'gainst a wayward girl
For lecturing a trustee.

For I knew before I found the knot
Of ribbon that she had worn,
That somehow Betty had lost her way
In the forest of ripened corn.

The sun went down and left the world
Beautiful, happy and good;
True, the girl and myself had quarrelled,
But when I found her and stood

With silver stars mistily shining
Through the deep blue of the skies,
Heard somebody sob like a baby,
Saw tears in somebody's eyes.

Why, I just whispered, "Betty, Betty,"
Then whispered "Betty" some more;
Not another word did I utter —
I'll stick to this o'er and o'er.

You needn't ask me to explain, friends,
I don't know how 'twas myself,
That first "Betty" said I was ashamed
Of my greedy love of pelf.

The second one told her I'd be glad
To raise the old schoolhouse up,
And be in haste to put down a well,
With a pump and drinking cup.

The third "Betty" told her I would act
A higher and nobler part;
The fourth "Betty" told her I loved her —
Loved her with all my heart.

"Ah, well! there's no fool like an old fool,"
Was what sister Mary said;
"No fool in the world like an old fool,
You'll find that out, brother Ned."

"Mary," I said, "there's a better thing
Than land, or dollar, or dime;
If being in love is being a fool
Here's one till the end of time."

I should think so, I'm a married man
Four years come this Christmastide,
And autumn now is flinging her gold
O'er the fields on every side.

My wife called out as I drove the cows
To the pasture-field this morn,
"Ned, please go look for your son and heir,
He toddled off in the corn."

And sister Mary must make a joke;
"Go find him at once," said she,
"You know to get lost in a field of corn
Runs in that boy's family."

THE QUARREL

When Mary found fault with me that day the trouble was well begun.
No man likes being found fault with, no man really thinks it fun
To have a wisp of a woman, in a most obnoxious way,
Allude to his temper as beastly, and remark that day by day
He proves himself so careless, so lacking in love, so mean,
Then add, with an air convincing, she wishes she'd never seen
A person who thinks so little of breaking a woman's heart,