The Loehrs And The Hammonds

"Hey, Bud! O Bud!" rang out a gleeful call, -     "The Loehrs is come to your house!" And a small     But very much elated little chap,     In snowy linen-suit and tasseled cap,     Leaped from the back-fence just across the street     From Bixlers', and came galloping to meet     His equally delighted little pair     Of playmates, hurrying out to join him there -     "The Loehrs is come! - The Loehrs is come!" his glee     Augmented to a pitch of ecstasy     Communicated wildly, till the cry     "The Loehrs is come!" in chorus quavered high     And thrilling as some paean of challenge or     Soul-stirring chant of armied conqueror.     And who this avant courier of "the Loehrs"? -     This happiest of all boys out-o'-doors -     Who but Will Pierson, with his heart's excess     Of summer-warmth and light and breeziness!     "From our front winder I 'uz first to see     'Em all a-drivin' into town!" bragged he -     "An' seen 'em turnin' up the alley where     Your folks lives at. An' John an' Jake wuz there     Both in the wagon; - yes, an' Willy, too;     An' Mary - Yes, an' Edith - with bran-new     An' purtiest-trimmed hats 'at ever wuz! -     An' Susan, an' Janey. - An' the Hammonds-uz     In their fine buggy 'at they're ridin' roun'     So much, all over an' aroun' the town     An' ever'wheres, - them city-people who's     A-visutin' at Loehrs-uz!"         Glorious news! -     Even more glorious when verified     In the boys' welcoming eyes of love and pride,     As one by one they greeted their old friends     And neighbors. - Nor until their earth-life ends     Will that bright memory become less bright     Or dimmed indeed.         ... Again, at candle-light,     The faces all are gathered. And how glad     The Mother's features, knowing that she had     Her dear, sweet Mary Loehr back again. -     She always was so proud of her; and then     The dear girl, in return, was happy, too,     And with a heart as loving, kind and true     As that maturer one which seemed to blend     As one the love of mother and of friend.     From time to time, as hand-in-hand they sat,     The fair girl whispered something low, whereat     A tender, wistful look would gather in     The mother-eyes; and then there would begin     A sudden cheerier talk, directed to     The stranger guests - the man and woman who,     It was explained, were coming now to make     Their temporary home in town for sake     Of the wife's somewhat failing health. Yes, they     Were city-people, seeking rest this way,     The man said, answering a query made     By some well meaning neighbor - with a shade     Of apprehension in the answer.... No, -     They had no children. As he answered so,     The man's arm went about his wife, and she     Leant toward him, with her eyes lit prayerfully:     Then she arose - he following - and bent     Above the little sleeping innocent     Within the cradle at the mother's side -     He patting her, all silent, as she cried. -     Though, haply, in the silence that ensued,     His musings made melodious interlude.             In the warm, health-giving weather                 My poor pale wife and I             Drive up and down the little town                 And the pleasant roads thereby:             Out in the wholesome country              We wind, from the main highway,             In through the wood's green solitudes -                 Fair as the Lord's own Day.             We have lived so long together.                 And joyed and mourned as one,             That each with each, with a look for speech,                 Or a touch, may talk as none             But Love's elect may comprehend -                 Why, the touch of her hand on mine             Speaks volume-wise, and the smile of her eyes,                 To me, is a song divine.             There are many places that lure us: -                 "The Old Wood Bridge" just west             Of town we know - and the creek below,                 And the banks the boys love best:             And "Beech Grove," too, on the hill-top;                 And "The Haunted House" beyond,             With its roof half off, and its old pump-trough                 Adrift in the roadside pond.             We find our way to "The Marshes" -                 At least where they used to be;             And "The Old Camp Grounds"; and "The Indian Mounds,"                 And the trunk of "The Council Tree:"             We have crunched and splashed through "Flint-bed Ford";                 And at "Old Big Bee-gum Spring"             We have stayed the cup, half lifted up.                 Hearing the redbird sing.             And then, there is "Wesley Chapel,"                 With its little graveyard, lone             At the crossroads there, though the sun sets fair                 On wild-rose, mound and stone ...             A wee bed under the willows -                 My wife's hand on my own -             And our horse stops, too ... And we hear the coo                 Of a dove in undertone.             The dusk, the dew, and the silence.                 "Old Charley" turns his head             Homeward then by the pike again,                 Though never a word is said -             One more stop, and a lingering one -                 After the fields and farms, -             At the old Toll Gate, with the woman await                 With a little girl in her arms.     The silence sank - Floretty came to call     The children in the kitchen, where they all     Went helter-skeltering with shout and din     Enough to drown most sanguine silence in, -     For well indeed they knew that summons meant     Taffy and popcorn - so with cheers they went.