Page 23 - Poetry-Family

She was patient with crockery no art could mend,
And chimneys that smoked every day the wrong end;
She was patient with reapers who never would sow,
And long-winded callers who never would go;
She was patient with relatives when, uninvited,
They came, and devoured, then complained they were slighted;
She was patient with crows that got into the corn,
And other dark deeds out of wantonness born;
She was patient with lightning that burned up the hay,
She was patient with poultry unwilling to lay;
She was patient with rogues who drank cider too strong,
She was patient with sermons that lasted too long;
She was patient with boots that tracked up her clean floors,
She was patient with peddlers and other smooth bores;
She was patient with children who disobeyed rules,
And, to crown all the rest, she was patient with fools.

The neighboring husbands all envied the lot
Of Darius, and wickedly got up a plot
To bring o’er his sunshine an unpleasant spot.
“You think your wife’s temper is proof against fate,
But we know of something her smiles will abate.
When she gets out of wood, and for more is inclined,
Just send home the crookedest lot you can find;
Let us pick it out, let us go and choose it,
And we’ll bet you a farm, when she comes for to use it,
Her temper will crack like Nathan Dow’s cornet,
And she’ll be as mad as an elderly hornet.”

Darius was piqued, and he said, with a vum,
“I’ll pay for the wood, if you’ll send it hum;
But depend on it, neighbors, no danger will come.”

Home came the gnarled roots, and a crookeder load
Never entered the gate of a Christian abode.
A ram’s horn was straighter than any stick in it;
It seemed to be wriggling about every minute;
It would not stand up, and it would not lie down;
It twisted the vision of one-half the town.
To look at such fuel was really a sin,
For the chance was Strabismus would surely set in.

~ 21 ~