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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=390947" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Marthy's younkit</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mountain brook sung lonesomelike, and loitered on its way<br>Ez if it waited for a child to jine it in its play;<br>The wild-flowers uv the hillside bent down their heads to hear<br>The music uv the little feet that had somehow grown so dear;<br>The magpies, like winged shadders, wuz a-flutterin' to an' fro<br>Among the rocks an' holler stumps in the ragged gulch below;<br>The pines an' hemlocks tosst their boughs (like they wuz arms) and made<br>Soft, sollum music on the slope where he had often played;<br>But for these lonesome, sollum voices on the mountain-side,<br>There wuz no sound the summer day that Marthy's younkit died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We called him Marthy's younkit, for Marthy wuz the name<br>Uv her ez wuz his mar, the wife uv Sorry Tom,--the same<br>Ez taught the school-house on the hill, way back in '69,<br>When she marr'd Sorry Tom, wich owned the Gosh-all-Hemlock mine!<br>And Marthy's younkit wuz their first, wich, bein' how it meant<br>The first on Red Hoss Mountain, wuz truly a' event!<br>The miners sawed off short on work ez soon ez they got word<br>That Dock Devine allowed to Casey what had just occurred;<br>We loaded up an' whooped around until we all wuz hoarse<br>Salutin' the arrival, wich weighed ten pounds, uv course!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Three years, and sech a pretty child!--his mother's counterpart!<br>Three years, an' sech a holt ez he had got on every heart!<br>A peert an' likely little tyke with hair ez red ez gold,<br>A-laughin', toddlin' everywhere,--'nd only three years old!<br>Up yonder, sometimes, to the store, an' sometimes down the hill<br>He kited (boys is boys, you know,--you couldn't keep him still!)<br>An' there he'd play beside the brook where purpul wild-flowers grew,<br>An' the mountain pines an' hemlocks a kindly shadder threw,<br>An' sung soft, sollum toons to him, while in the gulch below<br>The magpies, like strange sperrits, went flutterin' to an' fro.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Three years, an' then the fever come,--it wuzn't right, you know,<br>With all us old ones in the camp, for that little child to go;<br>It's right the old should die, but that a harmless little child<br>Should miss the joy uv life an' love,--that can't be reconciled!<br>That's what we thought that summer day, an' that is what we said<br>Ez we looked upon the piteous face uv Marthy's younkit dead.<br>But for his mother's sobbin', the house wuz very still,<br>An' Sorry Tom wuz lookin', through the winder, down the hill,<br>To the patch beneath the hemlocks where his darlin' used to play,<br>An' the mountain brook sung lonesomelike an' loitered on its way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A preacher come from Roarin' Crick to comfort 'em an' pray,<br>'Nd all the camp wuz present at the obsequies next day;<br>A female teacher staged it twenty miles to sing a hymn,<br>An' we jined her in the chorus,--big, husky men an' grim<br>Sung &quot;Jesus, Lover uv my Soul,&quot; an' then the preacher prayed,<br>An' preacht a sermon on the death uv that fair blossom laid<br>Among them other flowers he loved,--wich sermon set sech weight<br>On sinners bein' always heeled against the future state,<br>That, though it had been fashionable to swear a perfec' streak,<br>There warn't no swearin' in the camp for pretty nigh a week!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Last thing uv all, four strappin' men took up the little load<br>An' bore it tenderly along the windin', rocky road,<br>To where the coroner had dug a grave beside the brook,<br>In sight uv Marthy's winder, where the same could set an' look<br>An' wonder if his cradle in that green patch, long an' wide,<br>Wuz ez soothin' ez the cradle that wuz empty at her side;<br>An' wonder if the mournful songs the pines wuz singin' then<br>Wuz ez tender ez the lullabies she'd never sing again,<br>'Nd if the bosom of the earth in wich he lay at rest<br>Wuz half ez lovin' 'nd ez warm ez wuz his mother's breast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The camp is gone; but Red Hoss Mountain rears its kindly head,<br>An' looks down, sort uv tenderly, upon its cherished dead;<br>'Nd I reckon that, through all the years, that little boy wich died<br>Sleeps sweetly an' contentedly upon the mountain-side;<br>That the wild-flowers uv the summer-time bend down their heads to hear<br>The footfall uv a little friend they know not slumbers near;<br>That the magpies on the sollum rocks strange flutterin' shadders make,<br>An' the pines an' hemlocks wonder that the sleeper doesn't wake;<br>That the mountain brook sings lonesomelike an' loiters on its way<br>Ez if it waited for a child to jine it in its play.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Eugene+Field">Eugene Field</a><div class=q>
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<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=390947" data-title="Marthy's younkit de Eugene Field" data-description="The mountain brook sung lonesomelike, and loitered on its way
Ez if it waited for a child to jine it in its play;
The wild-flowers uv the hillside bent down their heads to hear
The music uv the little feet that had somehow grown so dear;
The magpi..."></div>
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