"And he lived pretty much by gittin' of loans,
And his mules was nuthin' but skin and bones,
And his hogs was flat as his corn-bread pones,
And he had 'bout a thousand acres o' land."
He sells his farm to Brown at a dollar and fifty cents an acre
and goes to Texas. Brown improves the farm, and, after five years,
is sitting down to a big dinner when Jones is discovered standing
out by the fence, without wagon or mules, "fur he had left Texas afoot
and cum to Georgy to see if he couldn't git some employment."
Brown invites Jones in to dinner, but cannot refrain
from the inference-drawing that names the poem. -- "Which lived in Jones,"
"which Jones is a county of red hills and stones" (`Thar's More', etc.)
in central Georgia.
13. Readers of `David Copperfield' will recall Micawber's
frequent use of `I-O-U-'s'.
47. "Clisby's head" refers to Mr. Joseph Clisby, then editor
of the Macon (Ga.) `Telegraph and Messenger', who had written editorials
favoring the planting of more corn.
Corn
To-day the woods are trembling through and through [1]
With shimmering forms, that flash before my view,
Then melt in green as dawn-stars melt in blue.
The leaves that wave against my cheek caress
Like women's hands; the embracing boughs express
A
subtlety of
mighty tenderness;
The copse-depths into little noises start,
That sound anon like beatings of a heart,
Anon like talk 'twixt lips not far apart.
The beech dreams balm, as a
dreamer hums a song;
Through that vague wafture, expirations strong [11]
Throb from young hickories breathing deep and long
With
stress and urgence bold of prisoned spring
And
ecstasy of burgeoning.
Now, since the dew-plashed road of morn is dry,
Forth
venture odors of more quality
And heavenlier giving. Like Jove's locks awry,
Long muscadines
Rich-wreathe the
spacious foreheads of great pines,
And breathe ambrosial
passion from their vines.
I pray with mosses, ferns, and flowers shy [21]
That hide like gentle nuns from human eye
To lift adoring perfumes to the sky.
I hear faint bridal-sighs of brown and green
Dying to silent hints of kisses keen
As far lights
fringe into a pleasant sheen.
I start at fragmentary whispers, blown
From undertalks of leafy souls unknown,
Vague purports sweet, of inarticulate tone.
Dreaming of gods, men, nuns, and brides, between
Old companies of oaks that
inward lean [31]
To join their
radiant amplitudes of green
I slowly move, with ranging looks that pass
Up from the matted miracles of grass
Into yon veined
complex of space
Where sky and leafage interlace
So close, the heaven of blue is seen
Inwoven with a heaven of green.
I
wander to the zigzag-cornered fence
Where sassafras, intrenched in brambles dense,
Contests with stolid
vehemence [41]
The march of
culture,
setting limb and thorn
As pikes against the army of the corn.
There, while I pause, my fieldward-faring eyes
Take harvests, where the
stately corn-ranks rise,
Of
inward dignities
And large benignities and insights wise,
Graces and
modest majesties.
Thus, without theft, I reap another's field;
Thus, without tilth, I house a
wondrous yield,
And heap my heart with quintuple crops concealed. [51]
Look, out of line one tall corn-captain stands
Advanced beyond the
foremost of his bands,
And waves his blades upon the very edge
And hottest
thicket of the battling hedge.
Thou lustrous stalk, that ne'er mayst walk nor talk,
Still shalt thou type the poet-soul sublime
That leads the vanward of his timid time
And sings up cowards with commanding rhyme --
Soul calm, like thee, yet fain, like thee, to grow
By double increment, above, below; [61]
Soul
homely, as thou art, yet rich in grace like thee,
Teaching the yeomen selfless chivalry
That moves in gentle curves of courtesy;
Soul filled like thy long veins with
sweetness tense,
By every
godlike sense
Transmuted from the four wild elements.
Drawn to high plans,
Thou lift'st more
stature than a
mortal man's,
Yet ever piercest
downward in the mould
And keepest hold [71]
Upon the
reverend and
steadfast earth
That gave thee birth;
Yea, standest smiling in thy future grave,
Serene and brave,
With unremitting breath
Inhaling life from death,
Thine
epitaph writ fair in fruitage eloquent,
Thyself thy monument.
As poets should,
Thou hast built up thy hardihood [81]
With
universal food,
Drawn in select
proportion fair
From honest mould and
vagabond air;
From darkness of the
dreadful night,
And
joyful light;
From
antique ashes, whose
departed flame
In thee has finer life and longer fame;
From wounds and balms,
From storms and calms,
From potsherds and dry bones [91]
And ruin-stones.
Into thy
vigorous substance thou hast wrought
Whate'er the hand of Circumstance hath brought;
Yea, into cool solacing green hast spun
White
radiance hot from out the sun.
So thou dost mutually leaven
Strength of earth with grace of heaven;
So thou dost marry new and old
Into a one of higher mould;
So thou dost
reconcile the hot and cold, [101]
The dark and bright,
And many a heart-perplexing opposite,
And so,
Akin by blood to high and low,
Fitly thou playest out thy poet's part,
Richly expending thy much-bruised heart
In equal care to
nourish lord in hall
Or beast in stall:
Thou took'st from all that thou mightst give to all.
O
steadfastdweller on the
selfsame spot [111]
Where thou wast born, that still repinest not --
Type of the home-fond heart, the happy lot! --
Deeply thy mild content rebukes the land
Whose flimsy homes, built on the shifting sand
Of trade, for ever rise and fall
With alternation whimsical,
Enduring
scarce a day,
Then swept away
By swift engulfments of incalculable tides
Whereon capricious Commerce rides. [121]
Look, thou
substantial spirit of content!
Across this little vale, thy continent,
To where, beyond the mouldering mill,
Yon old deserted Georgian hill
Bares to the sun his piteous aged crest
And seamy breast,
By restless-hearted children left to lie
Untended there beneath the
heedless sky,
As
barbarous folk
expose their old to die.
Upon that generous-rounding side, [131]
With gullies scarified
Where keen Neglect his lash hath plied,
Dwelt one I knew of old, who played at toil,
And gave to coquette Cotton soul and soil.
Scorning the slow
reward of patient grain,
He sowed his heart with hopes of swifter gain,
Then sat him down and waited for the rain.
He sailed in borrowed ships of usury --
A foolish Jason on a
treacherous sea,
Seeking the Fleece and
findingmisery. [141]
Lulled by smooth-rippling loans, in idle trance
He lay, content that unthrift Circumstance
Should
plough for him the stony field of Chance.
Yea,
gathering crops whose worth no man might tell,
He staked his life on games of Buy-and-Sell,
And turned each field into a gambler's hell.
Aye, as each year began,
My farmer to the
neighboring city ran;
Passed with a
mournfulanxious face
Into the banker's inner place; [151]
Parleyed, excused, pleaded for longer grace;
Railed at the
drought, the worm, the rust, the grass;
Protested ne'er again 'twould come to pass;
With many an `oh' and `if' and `but alas'
Parried or swallowed searching questions rude,
And kissed the dust to
soften Dives's mood.
At last, small loans by pledges great renewed,
He issues smiling from the fatal door,
And buys with
lavish hand his
yearly store
Till his small borrowings will yield no more. [161]
Aye, as each year declined,
With bitter heart and ever-brooding mind
He mourned his fate unkind.
In dust, in rain, with might and main,
He nursed his cotton, cursed his grain,
Fretted for news that made him fret again,
Snatched at each
telegram of Future Sale,
And thrilled with Bulls' or Bears'
alternate wail --
In hope or fear alike for ever pale.
And thus from year to year, through hope and fear, [171]
With many a curse and many a secret tear,
Striving in vain his cloud of debt to clear,
At last
He woke to find his foolish dreaming past,
And all his best-of-life the easy prey
Of squandering scamps and quacks that lined his way
With vile array,
From
rascalstatesman down to petty knave;
Himself, at best, for all his bragging brave,
A gamester's catspaw and a banker's slave. [181]
Then, worn and gray, and sick with deep
unrest,