FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   820   821   822   823   824   825   826   827   828   829   830   831   832   833   834   835   836   837   838   839   840   841   842   843   844  
845   846   847   848   849   850   851   852   853   854   855   856   857   858   859   860   861   862   863   864   865   866   867   868   869   >>   >|  
s bare hill with its lonely tree, (It wasn't then as we see it now, With one scant scalp-lock to shade its brow;) Dusky nooks in the Essex woods, Dark, dim, Dante-like solitudes, Where the tree-toad watches the sinuous snake Glide through his forests of fern and brake; Ipswich River; its old stone bridge; Far off Andover's Indian Ridge, And many a scene where history tells Some shadow of bygone terror dwells, Of "Norman's Woe" with its tale of dread, Of the Screeching Woman of Marblehead, (The fearful story that turns men pale Don't bid me tell it,--my speech would fail.) Who would not, will not, if he can, Bathe in the breezes of fair Cape Ann, Rest in the bowers her bays enfold, Loved by the sachems and squaws of old? Home where the white magnolias bloom, Sweet with the bayberry's chaste perfume, Hugged by the woods and kissed by the seal Where is the Eden like to thee? For that "couple of hundred years, or so," There had been no peace in the world below; The witches still grumbling, "It is n't fair; Come, give us a taste of the upper air! We've had enough of your sulphur springs, And the evil odor that round them clings; We long for a drink that is cool and nice, Great buckets of water with Wenham ice; We've served you well up-stairs, you know; You're a good old-fellow--come, let us go!" I don't feel sure of his being good, But he happened to be in a pleasant mood, As fiends with their skins full sometimes are, (He'd been drinking with "roughs" at a Boston bar.) So what does he do but up and shout To a graybeard turnkey, "Let 'em out!" To mind his orders was all he knew; The gates swung open, and out they flew. "Where are our broomsticks?" the beldams cried. "Here are your broomsticks," an imp replied. "They've been in--the place you know--so long They smell of brimstone uncommon strong; But they've gained by being left alone, Just look, and you'll see how tall they've grown." --And where is my cat? "a vixen squalled. Yes, where are our cats?" the witches bawled, And began to call them all by name: As fast as they called the cats, they came There was bob-tailed Tommy and long-tailed Tim, And wall-eyed Jacky and green-eyed Jim, And splay-foot Benny and slim-legged Beau, And Skinny and Squally, and Jerry and Joe, And many another
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   820   821   822   823   824   825   826   827   828   829   830   831   832   833   834   835   836   837   838   839   840   841   842   843   844  
845   846   847   848   849   850   851   852   853   854   855   856   857   858   859   860   861   862   863   864   865   866   867   868   869   >>   >|  



Top keywords:

broomsticks

 

witches

 
tailed
 

roughs

 

drinking

 

Boston

 

stairs

 
happened
 

Wenham

 

pleasant


buckets

 

served

 

fiends

 

fellow

 
called
 

squalled

 

bawled

 

Skinny

 

Squally

 

legged


beldams

 

turnkey

 
graybeard
 
orders
 
gained
 

strong

 
replied
 

brimstone

 
uncommon
 
history

shadow
 

Indian

 
Andover
 
Ipswich
 

bridge

 

bygone

 
terror
 
fearful
 

Marblehead

 
Screeching

Norman

 

dwells

 

lonely

 

sinuous

 

watches

 

forests

 
solitudes
 

hundred

 
couple
 

grumbling