Noon-time and June-time, down around the river! Have to furse with 'Lizey Ann--but lawzy! I fergive her! Drives me off the place, and says 'at all 'at she's a-wishin', Land o' gracious! time'll come I'll git enough o' fishin'! Little Dave, a-choppin' wood, never 'pears to notice; Don't know where she's hid his hat, er keerin' where his coat is,-- Specalatin', more 'n like, he haint a-goin' to mind me, And guessin' where, say twelve o'clock, a feller'd likely find me. Noon-time and June-time, down around the river! Clean out o' sight o' home, and skulkin' under kivver Of the sycamores, jack-oaks, and swamp-ash and ellum-- Idies all so jumbled up, you kin hardly tell 'em!-- _Tired_, you know, but _lovin'_ it, and smilin' jest to think 'at Any sweeter tiredness you'd fairly want to _drink_ it. Tired o' fishin'--tired o' fun--line out slack and slacker-- All you want in all the world's a little more tobacker! Hungry, but _a-hidin'_ it, er jes' a-not a-keerin':- Kingfisher gittin' up and skootin' out o' hearin'; Snipes on the t'other side, where the County Ditch is, Wadin' up and down the aidge like they'd rolled their britches! Old turkle on the root kindo-sorto drappin' Intoo th' worter like he don't know how it happen! Worter, shade and all so mixed, don't know which you'd orter Say, th' _worter_ in the shadder--_shadder_ in the _worter!_ Somebody hollerin'--'way around the bend in Upper Fork--where yer eye kin jes' ketch the endin' Of the shiney wedge o' wake some muss-rat's a-makin' With that pesky nose o' his! Then a sniff o' bacon, Corn-bread and 'dock-greens--and little Dave a-shinnin' 'Crost the rocks and mussel-shells, a-limpin' and a-grinnin', With yer dinner far ye, and a blessin' from the giver. Noon-time and June-time down around the river! KNEELING WITH HERRICK. Dear Lord, to Thee my knee is bent.-- Give me content-- Full-pleasured with what comes to me, What e'er it be: An humble roof--a frugal board, And simple hoard; The wintry fagot piled beside The chimney wide, While the enwreathing flames up-sprout And twine about The brazen dogs that guard my hearth And household worth: Tinge with the ember's ruddy glow The rafters low; And let the sparks snap with delight, As ringers might That mark deft measures of some tune The children croon: Then, with good friends, the rarest few Thou holdest true, Ranged round about the blaze, to share My comfort there,-- Give me to claim the service meet That makes each seat A place of honor, and each guest Loved as the rest. ROMANCIN'. I' b'en a-kindo musin', as the feller says, and I'm About o' the conclusion that they ain't no better time, When you come to cipher on it, than the times we used to know When we swore our first "dog-gone-it" sorto solem'-like and low!