Page:Poems Cook.djvu/246

'Twas his when they coaxed him for wickets or bat,
 Now pleading with tears, and now trusting a laugh;
'Twas not half a mile to the village-and that
 He could manage right well with the help of his staff.

But often he wanted his faithful supporter,
 When as often 'twas ask'd for and sought for in vain;
Perhaps Master Dick had it down by the water,
 Or the young ones had carried it out in the lane.

'Twas not a wit safer for all the close hiding,
 For corners were peep'd in and cupboards explored;
Till some urchin came shouting, careering, and riding
 On his grandfather's stick, like a tournament lord.

There were sticks in abundance, from bamboo to oak,
 But all eyes and all hands singled that from the rest;
For business or fun that old staff was the one,
 For all times and all purposes that was the best.

The herd-boy, perchance, had to cross the bleak waste,
 When the sky had no star, and the winter blast wail'd;
His eye lost its light, and his red lips turn'd white,
 While 'twas easy to see that his rude spirit quail'd.

He thought of the murder'd ghost haunting that spot;
 Of the gibbet's loose beams-and the boy's heart turn'd sick;
But half of the soul-thrilling fear was forgot
 If he might but take with him the grandfather's stick.

"Look, Susan, the flowers!" was cried in alarm;
 "See! see! the old sow's in the garden—quick! quick!"
And the very next moment found Susan's strong arm
 Belabouring Bess with the grandfather's stick.

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