“I – The Gathering
Father and Mother Lawrence, the boy Joe,
Lottie and Elsie, all were full of life,
And fond of company. Their new sod house
Boasted four rooms. The first play-party fell
To them by luck and privilege.
That night gave
A full moon silvering all the autumn grass,
Big stars, a deep sky, and the fresh, sweet notes
Of young folk singing as the wagons rolled
On to the Lawrence house.
What jollity
Of hearty greeting! How the spirit of mirth
Beams in the twinkling eyes of Daddy Lawrence!
I’ve seen him laugh among the harvest help
Prom his toes upward, his plump body shaking,
His hair one breeze of merriment; to-night
His round and ruddy face as yet but smiles.
Gracious and motherly the welcoming
Of Mrs. Lawrence; son and daughters join
Good comradeship with a fine courtesy
To happy guests. Nell Davis trips in first,
A lively blonde with nose tip-tilted; clumps
In her tow a bashful youth whose shiny face
Displays its freckles as gooseberry jam
Makes show of seeds; now enters Arabella,
The cowgirl who can conquer a wild pony;
Sam Violet, conscious of his first mustache, –
With him his sisters, Ella, Jessie, just
Arrived last week from Elgin, Illinois,
Ready of laugh and word; three giantesses,
Blonde, tanned, the Andersons; they till the fields,
Having no brothers; then the bullet heads
And round, stiff bodies of the Baker boys;
Lou Silver’s coming animates the room
Like living music; ’tis a gentle face,
As delicate as a flower, Ann Wilson lifts
In greeting; Barney Mclntyre holds high
His dark-curled head; close at his elbow grins
Jed Butterpaugh the bashful; comes a ripple
Of wholesome, happy girls, Rose, Bessie, Jane,
And Margaret; then three Brandstetter brothers,
Ample of girth, and rusty haired.
The house
Grows crowded, guests move to the moonlit grass,
Where laughters rise, and merry voices chat
In lively melody.
Joe Lawrence calls,
“”Your partners! Form the lines for Old Brass Wagon.””
II – The Games
Luck makes him head, he meets it pranksomely, –
Dapper Ulysses, five feet in his boots,
And proud as Satan of a black mustache
Would grace a Spanish pirate; half a hand
In the wheat, first class at baking. Buxom Sue
Towers last in the line of girls; she could pitch bundles
All day for any partner: mirth arises
To see them countering between the ranks,
First shuttles in the good old weaving game,
The blithesome maze of the Virginia reel:
“”Meet half way to your best liking,
Meet half way to your best liking,
Meet half way to your best liking,
You ‘re the one, my darling!
“”Lead ‘er up an’ down the old brass wagon,
Lead ‘er up an’ down the old brass wagon,
Lead ‘er up an’ down the old brass wagon,
You’re the one, my darling!
“”Wheel an’ turn the old brass wagon,
Wheel an’ turn the old brass wagon,
Three wheels off an’ the axle draggin’,
You’re the one, my darling!””
The seven stanzas near monotony
When each has led the weaving. Welcome change
Is the graceful round of a good old harvest dance:
“”O, it rains, and it hails, and it’s cold stormy weather;
In comes the farmer, drinking up cider.
I’ll be the reaper if you ‘ll be the binder,
I’ve lost my true love and I cannot find her.”
They race through Tansy with a merry speed
Before the circle spins into rollicking rings
In the whirls of ” Three by three with a polkay O!””
” O, great big sheep jumped over the meetin’ house,
Over the meetin’ house, over the meetin’ house,
Great big sheep jumped over the meetin’ house,
Down in Alabama!”
Some echo rises as from age-old rites
In Oats, Peas, Beans and Barley. Weevilly Wheat
Times lightsome dancers, then a flouting song
With a flower for the girl, a gibe to tease the boy:
“”O, now we’ve got the little red rose,
The little red rose, the little red rose;
And now we’ve got the little red rose
So early in the morning!
Go choose you out a partner,
The prettiest you can find.
“”And now we’ve got the old plough horse,
The old plough horse, the old plough horse;-“”
Comes Happy Miller with its round of shifts;
Then Chase the Squirrel; boys and girls in lines,
With the head couple dancing through and back:
“”Up and down the center we go,
Up and down the center we go,
Up and down the center we go
This cold and frosty morning!
“”Now’s the time to chase that squirrel,
Now’s the time to chase that squirrel,-“”
The girl runs round the rank of girls, the boy
Circles at speed the rank of boys in hope
Of sweet reward in the lane. The lads take space
Lengthening the line to see the pursuer puff:
”Catch her and kiss her if you can, -”
And he may catch her if luck favors him,
Otherwise, – he is chaffed for running slow.
Voices need rest. Youth turns with lively relish
To coffee and fried chicken, rolls and cakes,
Doughnuts and pies. An hour of chat and laughter;
Then the cool moon may spill its gracious ease
On what might else seem awkward, while the space
Lends harmony to youthful voices blent
In folk-tunes of the good old courtship games,
Where dancing is the maid, romance the lady:
Juniper Tree, We’re Marching Round the Levee,
Here Comes a Loving Couple, Lazy Mary,
Then the lively turns of The Girl I Left Behind Me,
With, Here She Stands, and a partners’ march for ending:
“”We are marching down to old Quebec,
And the drums are loudly beating;
The Americans have gained the day,
And the British are retreating.
“”The war’s all o’er, and we’ll turn back
To the place from whence we started;
We’ll open the ring, and choose a couple in
To see if they’ll prove true hearted.””
The moon is rolling half-way down the sky
When the last wagon rumbles to the road;
And you hear Suwanee River, Old Black Joe,
And Annie Laurie, sweet and faint and far,
Dying in silver haze along the hills.
O prairie spaces, joyous boys and girls,
Youth, and romance, and music of the moon!
(Edwin Ford Piper)”
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