Guess

There is a certain Yankee phrase     I always have revered,     Yet, somehow, in these modern days,     It's almost disappeared;     It was the usage years ago,     But nowadays it's got     To be regarded coarse and low     To answer: "I guess not!"     The height of fashion called the pink     Affects a British craze--     Prefers "I fancy" or "I think"     To that time-honored phrase;     But here's a Yankee, if you please,     That brands the fashion rot,     And to all heresies like these     He answers, "I--guess not!"--     When Chaucer, Wycliff, and the rest     Express their meaning thus,     I guess, if not the very best,     It's good enough for us!     Why! shall the idioms of our speech     Be banished and forgot     For this vain trash which moderns teach?     Well, no, sir; I guess not!     There's meaning in that homely phrase     No other words express--     No substitute therefor conveys     Such unobtrusive stress.     True Anglo-Saxon speech, it goes     Directly to the spot,     And he who hears it always knows     The worth of "I--guess--not!"