Page:Pieces People Ask For.djvu/129

Rh THE SEPTEMBER GALE.

not a chicken: I have seen
 * Full many a chill September;

And though I was a youngster then,
 * That gale I well remember.

The day before my kite-string snapped,
 * And, I my kite pursuing,

The wind whisked off my palm-leaf hat;
 * For me two storms were brewing!

It came as quarrels sometimes do,
 * When married folks get clashing:

There was a heavy sigh or two
 * Before the fire was flashing;

A little stir among the clouds
 * Before they rent asunder;

A little rocking of the trees,
 * And then came on the thunder.

Lord! how the ponds and rivers boiled!
 * They seemed like bursting craters!

And oaks lay scattered on the ground
 * As if they were p'taters;

And all above was in a howl,
 * And all below a clatter,—

The earth was like a frying-pan,
 * Or some such hissing matter.

It chanced to be our washing-day,
 * And all our things were drying:

The storm came roaring through the lines,
 * And sent them all a-flying;

I saw the shirts and petticoats
 * Go riding off like witches;

I lost, ah! bitterly I wept,—
 * I lost my Sunday breeches!

I saw them straddling through the air,
 * Alas! too late to win them;

I saw them chase the clouds as if
 * The Devil had been in them.