Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343727" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Off the Turnpike</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Good ev'nin', Mis' Priest.<br>I jest stepped in to tell you Good-bye.<br>Yes, it's all over.<br>All my things is packed<br>An' every last one o' them boxes<br>Is on Bradley's team<br>Bein' hauled over to th' depot.<br>No, I ain't goin' back agin.<br>I'm stoppin' over to French's fer to-night,<br>And goin' down first train in th' mornin'.<br>Yes, it do seem kinder queer<br>Not to be goin' to see Cherry's Orchard no more,<br>But Land Sakes! When a change's comin',<br>Why, I al'ays say it can't come too quick.<br>Now, that's real kind o' you,<br>Your doughnuts is always so tasty.<br>Yes, I'm goin' to Chicago,<br>To my niece,<br>She's married to a fine man, hardware business,<br>An' doin' real well, she tells me.<br>Lizzie's be'n at me to go out ther for the longest while.<br>She ain't got no kith nor kin to Chicago, you know<br>She's rented me a real nice little flat,<br>Same house as hers,<br>An' I'm goin' to try that city livin' folks say's so pleasant.<br>Oh, yes, he was real generous,<br>Paid me a sight o' money fer the Orchard;<br>I told him 'twouldn't yield nothin' but stones,<br>But he ain't farmin' it.<br>Lor', no, Mis' Priest,<br>He's jest took it to set and look at the view.<br>Mebbe he wouldn't be so stuck on the view<br>Ef he'd seed it every mornin' and night for forty year<br>Same's as I have.<br>I dessay it's pretty enough,<br>But it's so pressed into me<br>I c'n see't with my eyes shut.<br>No. I ain't cold, Mis' Priest,<br>Don't shut th' door.<br>I'll be all right in a minit.<br>But I ain't a mite sorry to leave that view.<br>Well, mebbe 'tis queer to feel so,<br>An' mebbe 'taint.<br>My! But that tea's revivin'.<br>Old things ain't always pleasant things, Mis' Priest.<br>No, no, I don't cal'late on comin' back,<br>That's why I'd ruther be to Chicago,<br>Boston's too near.<br>It ain't cold, Mis' Priest,<br>It's jest my thoughts.<br>I ain't sick, only -<br>Mis' Priest, ef you've nothin' ter take yer time,<br>An' have a mind to listen,<br>Ther's somethin' I'd like ter speak about<br>I ain't never mentioned it,<br>But I'd like to tell yer 'fore I go.<br>Would you mind lowerin' them shades,<br>Fall twilight's awful grey,<br>An' that fire's real cosy with the shades drawed.<br>Well, I guess folks about here think I've be'n dret'ful onsociable.<br>You needn't say 'taint so, 'cause I know diff'rent.<br>An' what's more, it's true.<br>Well, the reason is I've be'n scared out o' my life.<br>Scared ev'ry minit o' th' time, fer eight year.<br>Eight mortal year 'tis, come next June.<br>'Twas on the eighteenth o' June,<br>Six months after I'd buried my husband,<br>That somethin' happened ter me.<br>Mebbe you'll mind that afore that<br>I was a cheery body.<br>Hiram was too,<br>Al'ays liked to ask a neighbor in,<br>An' ev'n when he died,<br>Barrin' low sperrits, I warn't averse to seein' nobody.<br>But that eighteenth o' June changed ev'rythin'.<br>I was doin' most o' th' farmwork myself,<br>With jest a hired boy, Clarence King, 'twas,<br>Comin' in fer an hour or two.<br>Well, that eighteenth o' June<br>I was goin' round,<br>Lockin' up and seein' to things 'fore I went to bed.<br>I was jest steppin' out t' th' barn,<br>Goin' round outside 'stead o' through the shed,<br>'Cause there was such a sight o' moonlight<br>Somehow or another I thought 'twould be pretty outdoors.<br>I got settled for pretty things that night, I guess.<br>I ain't stuck on 'em no more.<br>Well, them laylock bushes side o' th' house<br>Was real lovely.<br>Glitt'rin' and shakin' in the moonlight,<br>An' the smell o' them rose right up<br>An' most took my breath away.<br>The colour o' the spikes was all faded out,<br>They never keep their colour when the moon's on 'em,<br>But the smell fair 'toxicated me.<br>I was al'ays partial to a sweet scent,<br>An' I went close up t' th' bushes<br>So's to put my face right into a flower.<br>Mis' Priest, jest's I got breathin' in that laylock bloom<br>I saw, layin' right at my feet,<br>A man's hand!<br>It was as white's the side o' th' house,<br>And sparklin' like that lum'nous paint they put on gate-posts.<br>I screamed right out,<br>I couldn't help it,<br>An' I could hear my scream<br>Goin' over an' over<br>In that echo be'ind th' barn.<br>Hearin' it agin an' agin like that<br>Scared me so, I dar'sn't scream any more.<br>I jest stood ther,<br>And looked at that hand.<br>I thought the echo'd begin to hammer like my heart,<br>But it didn't.<br>There was only th' wind,<br>Sighin' through the laylock leaves,<br>An' slappin' 'em up agin the house.<br>Well, I guess I looked at that hand<br>Most ten minits,<br>An' it never moved,<br>Jest lay there white as white.<br>After a while I got to thinkin' that o' course<br>'Twas some drunken tramp over from Redfield.<br>That calmed me some,<br>An' I commenced to think I'd better git him out<br>From under them laylocks.<br>I planned to drag him in t' th' barn<br>An' lock him in ther till Clarence come in th' mornin'.<br>I got so mad thinkin' o' that all-fired brazen tramp<br>Asleep in my laylocks,<br>I jest stooped down and grabbed th' hand and give it an awful pull.<br>Then I bumped right down settin' on the ground.<br>Mis' Priest, ther warn't no body come with the hand.<br>No, it ain't cold, it's jest that I can't abear thinkin' of it,<br>Ev'n now.<br>I'll take a sip o' tea.<br>Thank you, Mis' Priest, that's better.<br>I'd ruther finish now I've begun.<br>Thank you, jest the same.<br>I dropped the hand's ef it'd be'n red hot<br>'Stead o' ice cold.<br>Fer a minit or two I jest laid on that grass<br>Pantin'.<br>Then I up and run to them laylocks<br>An' pulled 'em every which way.<br>True es I'm settin' here, Mis' Priest,<br>Ther warn't nothin' ther.<br>I peeked an' pryed all about 'em,<br>But ther warn't no man ther<br>Neither livin' nor dead.<br>But the hand was ther all right,<br>Upside down, the way I'd dropped it,<br>And glist'nin' fit to dazzle yer.<br>I don't know how I done it,<br>An' I don't know why I done it,<br>But I wanted to git that dret'ful hand out o' sight<br>I got in t' th' barn, somehow,<br>An' felt roun' till I got a spade.<br>I couldn't stop fer a lantern,<br>Besides, the moonlight was bright enough in all conscience.<br>Then I scooped that awful thing up in th' spade.<br>I had a sight o' trouble doin' it.<br>It slid off, and tipped over, and I couldn't bear<br>Ev'n to touch it with my foot to prop it,<br>But I done it somehow.<br>Then I carried it off be'ind the barn,<br>Clost to an old apple-tree<br>Where you couldn't see from the house,<br>An' I buried it,<br>Good an' deep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I don't rec'lect nothin' more o' that night.<br>Clarence woke me up in th' mornin',<br>Hollerin' fer me to come down and set th' milk.<br>When he'd gone,<br>I stole roun' to the apple-tree<br>And seed the earth all new turned<br>Where I left it in my hurry.<br>I did a heap o' gardenin'<br>That mornin'.<br>I couldn't cut no big sods<br>Fear Clarence would notice and ask me what I wanted 'em fer,<br>So I got teeny bits o' turf here and ther,<br>And no one couldn't tell ther'd be'n any diggin'<br>When I got through.<br>They was awful days after that, Mis' Priest,<br>I used ter go every mornin' and poke about them bushes,<br>An' up and down the fence,<br>Ter find the body that hand come off of.<br>But I couldn't never find nothin'.<br>I'd lay awake nights<br>Hearin' them laylocks blowin' and whiskin'.<br>At last I had Clarence cut 'em down<br>An' make a big bonfire of 'em.<br>I told him the smell made me sick,<br>An' that warn't no lie,<br>I can't abear the smell on 'em now;<br>An' no wonder, es you say.<br>I fretted somethin' awful 'bout that hand<br>I wondered, could it be Hiram's,<br>But folks don't rob graveyards hereabouts.<br>Besides, Hiram's hands warn't that awful, starin' white.<br>I give up seein' people,<br>I was afeared I'd say somethin'.<br>You know what folks thought o' me<br>Better'n I do, I dessay,<br>But mebbe now you'll see I couldn't do nothin' diff'rent.<br>But I stuck it out,<br>I warn't goin' to be downed<br>By no loose hand, no matter how it come ther<br>But that ain't the worst, Mis' Priest,<br>Not by a long ways.<br>Two year ago, Mr. Densmore made me an offer for Cherry's Orchard.<br>Well, I'd got used to th' thought o' bein' sort o' blighted,<br>An' I warn't scared no more.<br>Lived down my fear, I guess.<br>I'd kinder got used to th' thought o' that awful night,<br>And I didn't mope much about it.<br>Only I never went out o' doors by moonlight;<br>That stuck.<br>Well, when Mr. Densmore's offer come,<br>I started thinkin' 'bout the place<br>An' all the things that had gone on ther.<br>Thinks I, I guess I'll go and see where I put the hand.<br>I was foolhardy with the long time that had gone by.<br>I know'd the place real well,<br>Fer I'd put it right in between two o' the apple roots.<br>I don't know what possessed me, Mis' Priest,<br>But I kinder wanted to know<br>That the hand had been flesh and bone, anyway.<br>It had sorter bothered me, thinkin' I might ha' imagined it.<br>I took a mornin' when the sun was real pleasant and warm;<br>I guessed I wouldn't jump for a few old bones.<br>But I did jump, somethin' wicked.<br>Ther warn't no bones!<br>Ther warn't nothin'!<br>Not ev'n the gold ring I'd minded bein' on the little finger.<br>I don't know ef ther ever was anythin'.<br>I've worried myself sick over it.<br>I be'n diggin' and diggin' day in and day out<br>Till Clarence ketched me at it.<br>Oh, I know'd real well what you all thought,<br>An' I ain't sayin' you're not right,<br>But I ain't goin' to end in no county 'sylum<br>If I c'n help it.<br>The shiv'rin' fits come on me sudden like.<br>I know 'em, don't you trouble.<br>I've fretted considerable about the 'sylum,<br>I guess I be'n frettin' all the time I ain't be'n diggin'.<br>But anyhow I can't dig to Chicago, can I?<br>Thank you, Mis' Priest,<br>I'm better now. I only dropped in in passin'.<br>I'll jest be steppin' along down to French's.<br>No, I won't be seein' nobody in the mornin',<br>It's a pretty early start.<br>Don't you stand ther, Mis' Priest,<br>The wind'll blow yer lamp out,<br>An' I c'n see easy, I got aholt o' the gate now.<br>I ain't a mite tired, thank you.<br>Good-night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Amy+Lowell">Amy Lowell</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343727" data-title="Off the Turnpike de Amy Lowell" data-description="Good ev'nin', Mis' Priest.
I jest stepped in to tell you Good-bye.
Yes, it's all over.
All my things is packed
An' every last one o' them boxes
Is on Bradley's team
Bein' hauled over to th' depot.
No, I ain't goin' back agin.
I'm stoppin' over to ..."></div>
</div>
</div>