The Poetical Works of Bret HarteHoughton, Mifflin and Company, 1882 - 326 strani |
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ain't ALKALI STATION Assmannshausen Avitor Bob Barker boys Brown camp cheer Cicely Clear Lake Shore Cologne Crested Jay dark dead dear derned door dream drifting dropped Emeu eyes face fair faith Brown fear Flynn folks Friar galleon ghost gone Grey half hand hear heathen Chinee hero hill hoss hundred John Burns JOHNNY Jones knew legend look lost Lycurgus mignonette Miss Miss Kitty Mission morning mountain never night o'er once Papa passed pine plain Plesiosaurus Rhine rock rose round sad old house sailed seneschal shipman's tale shore Silurian smile soul stand stood story stranger suthin sweet tale tell thar thee There's thet things thou thought thrilling Tom Flynn Truthful James twas voice wait walk wife woman wonder youth Yuba Bill
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Stran 132 - Which is why I remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark, And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar — Which the same I am free to maintain.
Stran 204 - The roaring camp-fire, with rude humor, painted The ruddy tints of health On haggard face and form that drooped and fainted In the fierce race for wealth; Till one arose, and from his pack's scant treasure A hoarded volume drew, And cards were dropped from hands of listless leisure To hear the tale anew. And then, while round them shadows gathered faster, And as the firelight fell, He read aloud the book wherein the Master Had writ of "Little Nell.
Stran 275 - And now, as the night was senescent And star-dials pointed to morn As the star-dials hinted of morn At the end of our path a liquescent And nebulous lustre was born, Out of which a miraculous crescent Arose with a duplicate horn Astarte's bediamonded crescent Distinct with its duplicate horn.
Stran 135 - Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar, Which the same I would rise to explain.
Stran 24 - Ere your heritage be wasted,' said the quick alarming drum. 'Let me of my heart take counsel: War is not of life the sum; Who shall stay and reap the harvest When the autumn days shall come ? But the drum Echoed, 'Come! Death shall reap the braver harvest,' said the solemn-sounding drum.
Stran 118 - I've got the papers to prove it. Sired by Chippewa Chief, and twelve hundred dollars won't buy her. Briggs of Tuolumne owned her. Did you know Briggs of Tuolumne ? — Busted hisself in White Pine, and blew out his brains down in 'Frisco ? Hedn't no savey — hed Briggs. Thar, Jack ! that'll do, — quit that foolin' ! Nothin' to what she kin do, when she's got her work cut out before her.
Stran 205 - twas boyish fancy — for the reader Was youngest of them all — But, as he read, from clustering pine and cedar A silence seemed to fall ; The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows, Listened in every spray, While the whole camp with 'Nell' on English meadows Wandered, and lost their way.
Stran 120 - Why, ef he'da straddled thet fence-rail, the derned thing 'ed get up and buck. He mined on the bar Till he couldn't pay rates ; He was smashed by a car When he tunnelled with Bates ; And right on the top of his trouble kem his wife and five kids from the States. It was rough, — mighty rough ; But the boys they stood by, And they brought him the stuff For a house, on the sly ; And the old woman, — well, she did washing, and took on when no one was nigh. But this 'yer luck...
Stran 132 - That Ah Sin was likewise ; Yet he played it that day upon William And me in a way I despise. Which we had a small game, And Ah Sin took a hand : It was Euchre. The same He did not understand ; But he smiled as he sat by the table, With t*>e smile that was childlike and bland Yet the cards they were stocked In a way that I grieve, And my feelings were shocked At the state of Nye's sleeve, Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers, And the same with intent to deceive.
Stran 17 - Just where the tide of battle turns, Erect and lonely, stood old John Burns. How do you think the man was dressed? He wore an ancient, long buff vest, Yellow as saffron — but his best ; And, buttoned over his manly breast Was a bright blue coat with a rolling collar, And large gilt buttons — size of a dollar — With tails that country-folk called