Page:Pebbles and Shells (Hawkes collection).djvu/184

Wet with the life blood of the mighty trec;
An' then ter see the sap come spirtin' out
As bright and sparklin' as the mornin' dew,
An' then ter hear it drop into the pail
As stiddy as an ole-time wooden clock—
A kinder sayin'—drink, drink, drink;
A drop aint much yer say, wal, no, but then
When you've a thousand trees a-tickin' so
You'll find out soon it piles the sap up fast,
An' that's jest what this tale is comin' to.
When sap has been a-runnin' for a week
Right smart, that is it does not run much nights,
The storage tubs an' pans git brimmin' full
An' runnin' over too, 'tis then the boys
Go up ter camp ter bile the sap at night.
But they are used to that 'ere kind o' thing
An' there aint nuthin' they would ruther do.

They git a peck o' apples from the bin,
Some but'nuts an' some chestnuts from up stairs,
An' half a dozen ears of popcorn too,
An' p'raps a dozen eggs to help along,
An' then they start up to the sugar house;
The moon is mebbe three hours high by then
An' jest a-smilin' out her purtiest,
Turnin' the snow to sparklin' diamonds
An' makin' gloomy shadows 'hind the trees.
The sugar house looks cheerfuller than home
With its great fire a-glowin' in the arch,

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