Pieces People Ask For/Raking the Meadow-Lot

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"We'll mow," quoth old farmer Jacobs, "the new corner medder to-day—
Nell, you come an' help with the rakin'—its right ketchin' weather for hay;
Neighbor Smith's Jim, he's bin to the city, an' a new-fangled patent he's bought;
An' he's bound to come over this mornin', an' streak through that air medder-lot.

He sez—an' I tell him the kaounty ain't able to beat him for cheek—
The thing'll do more execution than me an' my boys in a week;
But he offered so kinder perlite-like (I've no faith in the gim crack—not I),
I couldn't do other than 'low him to fetch the queer critter an' try."

Pretty Nell, skimming cream in the dairy, peeped out through the vine-shaded pane,
As Jim, with "Old Roan" and "Black Billy" went clattering down through the lane;
And was it the "new-fangled mower" her shy blue eyes followed? I ween
From the blushes that deepened and flitted, it could not have been the machine.

Prone under the lengthening shadows the feathery meadow-grass lay;
The daises uncrowned in their glory, sun-smitten, slow fading away;
The cardinal flower in the ditches, rose proudly, right royally dressed,
And restlessly hither and hither moaned the bobolinks spoiled of their nest.

Fair Nellie outrivalled the daises; and so, it was plain, thought young Jim,
Or else that such dainty hay-making required much assistance from him;
And if ever the lost joy of Eden came back to this earth long forgot,
It came to these blissful young lovers, a raking the new meadow-lot.

"What's this that you ax for—my Nellie?—Wal, if I ain't beat—can it be
It wasn't my hay but my darter made you mighty obleegin' to me?
You don't desarve her, you rascal, but"—the shrewd gray eyes twinkled—"I guess—
Considerin' the help you'll be hayin'—I s'pose—I shall hev to say—yes."

Ruth Revere.