The World’s Wit and Humor: An Encyclopedia in 15 Volumes. 1906.
Joaquin (Cincinnatus Hiner) Miller (1837–1913)That Gentleman from Boston
From “Complete Poetical Works”
T
Young lady, rich and good to see;
And oh, her black abundant hair!
And oh, her wondrous witchery!
Her father kept a cattle-farm,
These brothers kept her safe from harm.
From thick-necked bulls loud bellowing
The livelong morning, long and shrill,
And lashing sides like anything!
From roaring bulls that tossed the sand
And pawed the lilies of the land.
From far and famous Boston town.
He was not handsome, was not “game,”
But he could “cook a goose” as brown
As any man that set foot on
The mist-kissed shores of Oregon.
Taught gentleness and love alway;
Said love and kindness, as a rule,
Would ultimately “make it pay.”
He was so gentle, kind, that he
Could make a noun and verb agree.
All jealous and did strip to fight,
He gently stood between the two,
And meekly told them ’twas not right.
“I have a higher, better plan,”
Outspake this gentle Boston man.
About that lily hand of hers;
Go, take your guns and hunt all day
High up yon lofty hill of firs,
And while you hunt, my ruffled doves,
Why, I will learn which one she loves.”
Their hair shone yellow, like spun gold;
Their rifles crossed their laps, but still
They sat and sighed and shook with cold.
Their hearts lay bleeding far below;
Above them gleamed white peaks of snow.
A spotted circle in the grass.
The valley lay beneath their feet;
They heard the wide-winged eagles pass.
Two eagles cleft the clouds above;
Yet what could they but sigh and love?
“My dear young brother here might wed.”
“Oh, would to Heaven I had died!”
The younger sighed with bended head.
Then each looked each full in the face,
And each sprang up and stood in place.
“Die by your hand, the world would say
’Twas accident; and for her sake,
Dear brother, be it so, I pray.”
“Not that!” the younger nobly said;
Then tossed his gun and turned his head.
And as he paced he drew the ball;
Then sudden stopped and wheeled and faced
His brother to the death and fall!
Two shots rang wild upon the air:
But lo! the two stood harmless there!
Far, far below the bellowing
Of bullocks ceased, and everywhere
Vast silence sat all questioning.
The spotted hounds ran circling round,
Their red, wet noses to the ground.
That each had drawn the deadly ball;
And for that fair girl far below
Had sought in vain to silent fall.
And then the two did gladly “shake,”
And thus the elder bravely spake:
And tell the kind schoolmaster all.
Yea, yea! and if she choose not me,
But all on you her favors fall,
This valiant scene, till all life ends,
Dear brother, binds us best of friends.”
The bulls in tall abundant grass
Shook back their horns from bloom and vine,
And trumpeted to see them pass—
They loved so good, they loved so true,
These brothers scarce knew what to do.
As swift as sweeps the light of morn;
They could but love, they could not doubt
This man so gentle, “in a horn.”
They cried: “Now whose the lily hand—
That lady’s of this emer’ld land?”
That long-nosed man from Boston town;
They talked as only lovers can—
They talked, but he would only frown;
And still they talked and still they plead;
It was as pleading with the dead.
“Her father has a thousand ceows,
An hundred bulls, all fat and sleek;
He also had this ample heouse.”
The brothers’ eyes stuck out thereat
So far you might have hung your hat.
My lovely boys, won’t you come in?
Her father had a thousand ceows—
He also had a heap o’ tin.
The guirl? Oh, yes, the guirl, you see—
The guirl, this morning married me.”