The reading starts at the title “The Courtin’” on page 1376; the last stanza of the poem before it, which begins on page 1375 and ends at the top of page 1376, is left out.
1376807 The Courtin’
GOD makes sech nights, all white an’ stillFur ’z you can look or listen,Moonshine an’ snow on field an’ hill,All silence an’ all glisten.
Zekle crep’ up quite unbeknownAn’ peeked in thru’ the winder,An’ there sot Huldy all alone,’ith no one nigh to hender.
A fireplace filled the room’s one sideWith half a cord o’ wood in—There war n’t no stoves (tell comfort died)To bake ye to a puddin’.
The wa’nut logs shot sparkles outTowards the pootiest, bless her,An’ leetle flames danced all aboutThe chiny on the dresser.
Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung,An’ in amongst ’em rustedThe ole queen’s-arm thet gran’ther YoungFetched back f’om Concord busted.
The very room, coz she was in,Seemed warm f’om floor to ceilin’,An’ she looked full ez rosy aginEz the apples she was peelin’.
’Twas kin’ o’ kingdom-come to lookOn sech a blessed cretur,A dogrose blushin’ to a brookAin’t modester nor sweeter.
1377He was six foot o’ man, A 1,Clear grit an’ human natur’,None couldn’t quicker pitch a tonNor dror a furrer straighter.
He’d sparked it with full twenty gals,Hed squired ’em, danced ’em, druv ’em,Fust this one, an’ then thet, by spells—All is, he couldn’t love ’em.
But long o’ her his veins ’ould runAll crinkly like curled maple,The side she breshed felt full o’ sunEz a south slope in Ap’il.
She thought no v’ice hed sech a swingEz hisn in the choir;My! when he made Ole Hunderd ring,She knowed the Lord was nigher.
An’ she’d blush scarlit, right in prayer,When her new meetin’-bunnetFelt somehow thru’ its crown a pairO’ blue eyes sot upun it.
Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some!She seemed to ’ve gut a new soul,For she felt sartin-sure he’d come,Down to her very shoe-sole.
She heered a foot, an’ knowed it tu,A-raspin’ on the scraper,—All ways to once her feelins flewLike sparks in burnt-up paper.
He kin’ o’ l’itered on the mat,Some doubtfle o’ the sekle,His heart kep’ goin’ pity-pat,But hern went pity Zekle.
1378An’ yit she gin her cheer a jerkEz though she wished him furder,An’ on her apples kep’ to work,Parin’ away like murder.
‘You want to see my Pa, I s’pose?’‘Wal... no... I come dasignin’’—‘To see my Ma? She’s sprinklin’ clo’esAgin to-morror’s i’nin’.’
To say why gals acts so or so,Or don’t, ’ould be persumin’;Mebby to mean yes an’ say noComes nateral to women.
He stood a spell on one foot fust,Then stood a spell on t’other,An’ on which one he felt the wustHe couldn’t ha’ told ye nuther.
Says he, ‘I’d better call agin;’Says she, ‘Think likely, Mister:’Thet last word pricked him like a pin,An’... Wal, he up an’ kist her.
When Ma bimeby upon ’em slips,Huldy sot pale ez ashes,All kin’ o’ smily roun’ the lipsAn’ teary roun’ the lashes.
For she was jes’ the quiet kindWhose naturs never vary,Like streams that keep a summer mindSnowhid in Jenooary.
The blood clost roun’ her heart felt gluedToo tight for all expressin’,Tell mother see how metters stood,An’ gin ’em both her blessin’.
1379Then her red come back like the tideDown to the Bay o’ Fundy,An’ all I know is they was criedIn meetin’ come nex’ Sunday.
The poem that begins at “808 Ode Recited at the Harvard Commemoration” low on page 1379 runs on past the assigned pages; the reading stops before it.