Poetry

THAT GENTLE MAN FROM BOSTON.

Joaquin Miller


AN IDYL OF OREGON.



  • Two noble brothers loved a fair
  • 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 harm of cattle on the hill;
  • From thick-necked bulls loud bellowing
  • The livelong morning, long and shrill,
  • And lashing sides like anything!
  • From roaring bulls that tossed the sand
  • Aud pawed the lilies of the land.

  • There came a third young man. He came
  • 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.

  • This Boston man he taught the school,
  • Taught gentleness and love alway,
  • Said love and kinduess, as a rule,
  • Would ultimately "make it pay."
  • He was so gentle, kind, that he
  • Could make a noun and verb agree.

  • So when one day these brothers grew
  • 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.

  • "My plan is this: Forget this fray
  • About that lily hand of hers;
  • Go take your guns and hunt all day
  • High up you lofty hill of firs,
  • And while you hunt, my ruffled doves,
  • Why, I will learn which one she loves."

  • The brothers sat the windy hill,
  • 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.

  • Their hounds lay crouching, slim and neat,
  • 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?

  • "If I could die," the elder sighed,
  • "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.

  • "If I could die" the elder spake,
  • 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 fifty paces back he paced!
  • 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!

  • Two eagles poised high in the air;
  • 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.

  • And now each brother came to know-
  • 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:

  • "Now let us run right hastily
  • 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 hounds sped down, a spotted line,
  • 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.

  • They sought the kind schoolmaster out
  • 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 emerald land?"

  • They bowed before that big-nosed man,
  • 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.

  • At last this Boston man did speak
  • "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.

  • "I liked the looks of this big heouse
  • 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."