The Irish standard., 1896-01-04
RlsaI glzkh
To James Whitcornb Riley.
sRIEN BROS. :. PRoPRIEToRs

9fsoS. PROPRIETORS
To James Wfitcomb Riley.
h Z. w. BUTCHER.
Ssz, Ss.f lEhe toll lowing poem was recently reat
Sfsslpefore the Authors Club, and a copy o
81 Y sent to Mr.. Riley eliciting from hin
as$t The following response:
business Department,3The Daily Jour
# G 81 Indiana polls, Ind, Oct. %, 1896 Z,
NV. butcher, Esq: Dear Sir-Your quain
land CHEEKY dialect poem is just here, anc
SElrssas being made rmots pwelcOme, rest as
SSssst1red. All hearty thanks to you, and tc
Il Your lub,-for your mutual consideration
- of so very commonplace a subject as
very gra teful, James Whitcomt
ssscornb Riley
With this I enclose an article on dialect
and dialect people, feeling your sympa-
.Hthetic spirit is inherently one with the
writer's
4@S The article referred to is Dialect in
L literature . which was published in the
4 Forum some time ago from the pen OF
Riley
q say, Riley, when you comm back
Gsff'So these Northern parts again? s
Our eyes have had a summers drouth,
gg And are longing now for rain.
&, Khe grass is turnin' yeller
~ All along the medder like,
n GNA II, ~ w-ed's Old and rusty,
N And It's :.is.S Of lonesome like.
When planted corn, IN April
'E whistled every tune,
Then dreamed Of 'Old Aunt Mary"
When l took my nap at noon.
1 saw yer flock OF black birds
z IN the furry where plowed
And the little babe that reconciled
The neighbors in her shroud.
@. want to stop and blubber.
Like as if I was q. boy, '-.
5Catchin' the grief as really
r IS If there never was a joy!
(. We want to hear you tell about
The roses and the dew,
And the garden where the hurnrning bird
Mid the honey-suckles flew;
How the teller cCurted Nancy
Pertendin' twas i1er mother
Till the feast was ready Waitin,
And went and wed the other!
Come and tell the funny story,
How the SO ger lost his head,
AS his con1rade was totin' him,
Not KNOWN he was dead;
And that other one, patheticker,
About the felIer, Jim,
And how his dad. In war time,
Set q. heap Of store by him;
How, when he was q, dyjn
And the parson maxim prayer,
He said, Good bye, now, Jim,
Take care yourself, take care!'
Don't bring along nobody ~
And divide your time with his
1t don't make any difference
Who the other feller is!
We want the whole three hours,
And if you'll make it four,
So much the better fer you.
And We'll likely call fer more!
D'you know what makes me like you?
Cause / growed UP in the woods,
And went to school in winter
Dressed in mothers home made goods;
Where I chased the striped chipmuck
To his holler bass wood tree:
Ran races with black hornets
e And the yaller Jacket bee!
There society was lackin'
In her vari'us tucks and frills,
And the young men knew scarce nothin'
About the pace that kills.
We had our joys and sorrows,
Just as true and bona fide,
I remember how it hurt me
When my sister Mary died!
We had glimpses then of heaven,
With everything complete,
Just as real as city sinners,
On their velvet cushioned seats!
Tho the minister preached sermons,
4 With his pants tucked in his boots
We could understand his language,
Fer he wasn't in cahoots
With the rulin' king O. darkness,
Whom he did not hesitate
To tackle and then levy
On the critters whole estate!
know our ways were primitive,
But then the days We're bright;
It did not seem an hour
From daybreak till twas night;
And then from night till mornin'
We had such happy dreams,
That the angels joined in with US
And we waded heavens streans!
0, wish I'd had the writin'
= OF the. song that you have writ; !,
Mebby hardly foir to say it,
And selfish just bit;
So as there is but single sum-
The worlds no use for two,-- |
I'm glad the queen Of poesy
Gave the choicest wreath to you!
But here! I'm runrin' on too long
About the things you know;
Come up and visit with u.s.
Bring your songs of long ago!
For when you come, j. Riley,
You will catch my wife and me,
And that will be inducement
Fer your pocket, don't you see?