human
No--no, he said--
gpt
I'm much obleeged. I hain't come in to bother you no more'n I can he'p. All I wanted was to know ef you got my poetry all right. You know I take yer paper, he went on, in an explanatory way,
human
he added apologetically,
gpt
How was your poetry signed?
human
Signed by my own name, he answered proudly,--
gpt
And is this one of them, Mr. Johnson?
human
How does she read? said the old man eagerly, and searching in the meantime for his spectacles.
gpt
How does she read?--Then I can tell you!
human
It reads, said I, studiously conning the old man's bold but bad chirography, and tilting my chair back indolently,--
gpt
Oh! the old swimmin'-hole!
human
Stop! Stop! said the old man excitedly--
gpt
Stop right there! That's my poetry, but that's not the way to read it by a long shot! Give it to me! and he almost snatched it from my hand.
human
Poetry like this ain't no poetry at all, 'less you read it _natchurl_ and _in jes the same sperit 'at it's writ in_, don't you understand. It's a' old man a-talkin', rickollect, and a-feelin' kindo' sad, and yit kindo' sorto' good, too, and I opine he wouldn't got that off with a face on him like a' undertaker, and a voice as solemn as a cow-bell after dark! He'd say it more like this.
gpt
THE OLD SWIMMIN'-HOLE
human
Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! whare the crick so still and deep Looked like a baby-river that was laying half asleep, And the gurgle of the worter round the drift jest below Sounded like the laugh of something we onc't ust to know Before we could remember anything but the eyes Of the angels lookin' out as we left Paradise; But the merry days of youth is beyond our controle, And it's hard to part ferever with the old swimmin'-hole.
gpt
Read on! I said,--
human
Read on! Read all of it!