Poems (Eaton)/Valedictory to a Cooking Stove
VALEDICTORY.
ON PARTING WITH AN OLD COOK-STOVE.
WELL, thou and I must part, my trusty friend—
"The powers that be," desirous of a change,
Have ordered it, and we must bow our heads
To the stern mandate, and prepare to obey.
Stand up before me—let me wash the rust
Off thy neglected phiz, that thou mayest go
To thy new service cleaned and brightly shining,
A certain token of good housewifery—
Or else, in this fault-finding, slanderous world,
Some tongue may say, (well pleased to find a cause,)
"Stove soiled like this must come from careless hand,"
And thus dishonor both thyself and me.
And while I thus, for the last time, bestow
This oft-repeated favor, let's look back
Upon the many years, whose joys and woes,
And various changes, thou and I have borne
In fellowship. A faithful friend thou wert,
And ever ready to assistance give
When I most needed help—refusing never
To bake, to boil or fry, when called upon
For any of these duties—nay, in that
Most bustling, most important of all times,
The preparation-day for company,
Thy willingness did manifest itself.
And if success crowned our united efforts,
In shape of well-baked pies, light bread and cake,
Thy black and shining visage glowed with pleasure,
And e'en my face relaxed into a smile.
And when unwelcome visitors did stop
Before our door, and caught us unprepared,
Thine was the ear (since thou couldst tell no tales,)
That listened to my scolding and complaints—
And thine too was the ready sympathy
To aid me in my trouble, not regarding
The frown, or blow, or banging of the doors,
With which my spite did vent itself on thee.
Well-traveled art thou, it must be confessed,
And something knowest of the world—or else
Thy privileges have been much abused;
For thou and I have been true yoke-fellows
In many different towns and villages,
And wheresoever we have pitched our tent,
Thy cheerful blaze has helped to make it home.
And last, though not the least of all thy favors,
In these days of aspiring geniuses,
When servants must be leaders, well obeyed,
And former masters wear the yoke of bondage,
Thou never hast rebelled—but wond'rous fact,
Myself have been the mistress—thou the slave!
Well, go thy ways, old friend—and worldling-like
I shall forget thy services, perchance,
And join the cry, "new measures and reform."
Thus showing the unsatisfied desires
Of all the human—race and how we strive,
And wear our very lives away in striving
For something far beyond what now we hold—
And sometimes, not unlike the fabled dog,
In vainly trying to attain the shadow,
We lose and ne'er regain the precious substance.
"The powers that be," desirous of a change,
Have ordered it, and we must bow our heads
To the stern mandate, and prepare to obey.
Stand up before me—let me wash the rust
Off thy neglected phiz, that thou mayest go
To thy new service cleaned and brightly shining,
A certain token of good housewifery—
Or else, in this fault-finding, slanderous world,
Some tongue may say, (well pleased to find a cause,)
"Stove soiled like this must come from careless hand,"
And thus dishonor both thyself and me.
And while I thus, for the last time, bestow
This oft-repeated favor, let's look back
Upon the many years, whose joys and woes,
And various changes, thou and I have borne
In fellowship. A faithful friend thou wert,
And ever ready to assistance give
When I most needed help—refusing never
To bake, to boil or fry, when called upon
For any of these duties—nay, in that
Most bustling, most important of all times,
The preparation-day for company,
Thy willingness did manifest itself.
And if success crowned our united efforts,
In shape of well-baked pies, light bread and cake,
Thy black and shining visage glowed with pleasure,
And e'en my face relaxed into a smile.
And when unwelcome visitors did stop
Before our door, and caught us unprepared,
Thine was the ear (since thou couldst tell no tales,)
That listened to my scolding and complaints—
And thine too was the ready sympathy
To aid me in my trouble, not regarding
The frown, or blow, or banging of the doors,
With which my spite did vent itself on thee.
Well-traveled art thou, it must be confessed,
And something knowest of the world—or else
Thy privileges have been much abused;
For thou and I have been true yoke-fellows
In many different towns and villages,
And wheresoever we have pitched our tent,
Thy cheerful blaze has helped to make it home.
And last, though not the least of all thy favors,
In these days of aspiring geniuses,
When servants must be leaders, well obeyed,
And former masters wear the yoke of bondage,
Thou never hast rebelled—but wond'rous fact,
Myself have been the mistress—thou the slave!
Well, go thy ways, old friend—and worldling-like
I shall forget thy services, perchance,
And join the cry, "new measures and reform."
Thus showing the unsatisfied desires
Of all the human—race and how we strive,
And wear our very lives away in striving
For something far beyond what now we hold—
And sometimes, not unlike the fabled dog,
In vainly trying to attain the shadow,
We lose and ne'er regain the precious substance.