Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1870-10-28
BRET HARTE'S LATEST POEM.
"Cicely."
TALKALI STATION.

lALhAlA oIATAONsl
Cicely says you're poet; may be; amt much on
reckon you'd give me hundred, and beat me
P0etryy;mthat'' u. the way some chaps puts up an
But takes mine ''straight without sugar." and
that's what's the matter with me.
Poetry just look round you-alkali, rock, and
rc-brush, rock, and akai amt it pretty page
Sun in the east at mornin', sun in the west at night
And the shadow of this yer station the on'y thing
moves in sight.
Poetry now-Pollyi Polly, run to your
nam;
Run right away, my pooty' By-by' Amt she a
Poetry that reminds me o. suthn right in that
Jest shet that door thar, will yer for Ciceys ears
Ye noticed Polly--the baby: month afore she
Cicely-.lny old woman-was moody like and for
Out Of her head and crazy, and talked Of flowers
Family man, yourself, sir. Well, you know what
woman hes.
Narvous she was, and rcstless-said that she
''couldn't stay"
Stay-and the nearest woman seventeen miles
But fixed 1t up with the Doctor, and he said he
would be on hand,
And kinder stuck BY the shanty, and fenced in
that bit O. land. ts-...z.
One night--the tenth Of Octobcr-I woke with a
chill and fright,
For the door it was standing open, and cicely
warnt in sight,
But note was pinned on the blanket, which it
said that she couldn't stay
But had gone to visit her ncighbor-sevcnteen
miles away,
When and how she stampeded, didn't wait for to
For out in the road, next mint, started as wild
Running fir first this way and that way, like hound
For there warn't no track in the darkness to tell
ME the way she went.
I've had .,! some mighty mean moments afore ken
Lost on the Plains in 80, drownded almost, and
shot;
But out on this alkali desert, a hunting crazy
wife,
Was rally as satisfactory as anything in my life.
"Cicely! cicely! cicely." l called, and held my
And "Cicelyl' came from the canyon-and all was
as stl as death.
And 'Ciccly! Cicely! Cicely!" came from the
And jest but a whisper of '.Cicely" down from
them peaks Of snow
amt what you call religious-but jest looked
up to the sky
And-this yer's to what I'm coming, and may be
ye think lie:
But up away to the BASTARD, yaler and big and
Tar,
saw of suddent rising the sinseris kind of star.
Big and yaller and dancing, it seemed to beckon
to me:
Yaller and big and dancing, such as you never
Big and yaller and dancing-1 never saw such a
star,
And thought of them shsrps In the Bible. and
went for ii then and thar.
Over the brush and powders, stumbled and push
ed ahcad
Keeping the star afOre me, went wharever it led.
II might hev been for an hour, when suddent and
peart and high,
Gut o. the yearth afore me thar riz up babys cry
Listen thars the same music; but her lungs they
are stronger now
Than the day packed her and her mOther-Fm
dcrned If jest know how.
But the doctor KEN the next mint, and the joke o.
the whole thing is
That Cis never knew what happened from that
night to this
But Cicely says you're u poet, and may be you
might, some day,
jest sling her rhyme bout baby that was born
in curious way,
And see what she says; and, old fellow, when you
speak of the star, don't tell
Az how twas the doctors lantern-fOr may be
twOn't sound go we'll.
Oreriand for October.