I’ve known the least the greatest, too— And, on the selfsame plan, The biggest fool I ever knew Was quite a little man: We find we ought, and then we won’t— We prove a thing, then doubt it,— Know _everything_ but when we don’t Know _anything_ about it. THE OLD SCHOOL-CHUM He puts the poem by, to say His eyes are not themselves to-day! A sudden glamour o’er his sight— A something vague, indefinite— An oft-recurring blur that blinds The printed meaning of the lines, And leaves the mind all dusk and dim In swimming darkness—strange to him! It is not childishness, I guess,— Yet something of the tenderness That used to wet his lashes when A boy seems troubling him again;— The old emotion, sweet and wild, That drove him truant when a child, That he might hide the tears that fell Above the lesson—“Little Nell.” And so it is he puts aside The poem he has vainly tried To follow; and, as one who sighs In failure, through a poor disguise Of smiles, he dries his tears, to say His eyes are not themselves to-day. WRITIN’ BACK TO THE HOME-FOLKS My dear old friends—It jes beats all, The way you write a letter So’s ever’ _last_ line beats the _first_, And ever’ _next_-un’s better!— W’y, ever’ fool-thing you putt down You make so inte_rest_in’, A feller, readin’ of ’em all, Can’t tell which is the _best_-un. It’s all so comfortin’ and good, ’Pears-like I almost _hear_ ye And git more sociabler, you know, And hitch my cheer up near ye And jes smile on ye like the sun Acrosst the whole per-rairies In Aprile when the thaw’s begun And country couples marries. It’s all so good-old-fashioned like To _talk_ jes like we’re _thinkin’_, Without no hidin’ back o’ fans And giggle-un and winkin’, Ner sizin’ how each other’s dressed— Like some is allus doin’,— “_Is_ Marthy Ellen’s basque be’n _turned_ Er shore-enough a new-un!”— Er “ef Steve’s city-friend hain’t jes ‘A _lee_tle kindo’-sorto’”— Er “wears them-air blame’ eye-glasses Jes ’cause he hadn’t ort to?”— And so straight on, _dad-libitum_, Tel all of us feels, _some_way, Jes like our “comp’ny” wuz the best When we git up to come ’way! That’s why I like _old_ friends like _you_,— Jes ’cause you’re so _abidin’_.— Ef I wuz built to live “_fer keeps_,” My principul residin’ Would be amongst the folks ’at kep’ Me allus _thinkin’_ of ’em, And sorto’ eechin’ all the time To tell ’em how I love ’em.— Sich folks, you know, I jes love so I wouldn’t live without ’em, Er couldn’t even drap asleep But what I _dreamp’_ about ’em,— And ef we minded God, I guess We’d _all_ love one another Jes like one famb’ly,—me and Pap And Madaline and Mother. THE BLIND GIRL