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Ai and The Bomb James Johnson Full Chapter
Ai and The Bomb James Johnson Full Chapter
James Johnson
Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, ox2 6dp,
United Kingdom
Impression: 1
ISBN 978–0–19–285818–4
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192858184.001.0001
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Acknowledgments
Figures
Table
Brittleness problem
—Copyright by Dodd, Mead & Co., New York, and used by special
arrangement.
THE FIRST FURROW
By James J. Montague
Don’t you ever feel a yearnin’, ’long about this time o’ year,
For a robin’s song to tell you that the summer time is near?
Don’t you ever sort o’ hanker for the blackbird’s whistlin’ call,
Echoin’ through the hillside orchard, where the blossoms used to
fall?
Don’t you wish that you were out there, breathin’ in the April air,
Full o’ glad an’ careless boyhood, an’ with strength an’ health to
spare?
Don’t it hurt you to remember, when the springtime comes around,
How the first, long, rollin’ furrow used to wake the sleepy ground?
How’d you like to take the children, born to dirty city streets,
Out to where the brook goes pulsin’ when the heart o’ nature beats?
How’d you like to watch ’em wonder at the boomin’ of the bees,
Or to see ’em dodge the petals that are snowin’ from the trees?
How’d you like to see their faces catch the color o’ the rose,
As they raced across the meadow where the earliest crocus grows?
Wouldn’t it be joy to watch ’em follow on behind the plow,
As it cut the first brown furrow, like it’s doin’ out there now?
SUNSHINE
By Fred Emerson Brooks
“CICELY”
ALKALI STATION
By Bret Harte
I’ve had some mighty mean moments afore I kem to this spot,—
Lost on the plains in ’50, drowned almost, and shot;
But out on this alkali desert, a hunting a crazy wife,
Was ra’ly as on-satis-factory as anything in my life.
Listen! thar’s the same music; but her lungs they are stronger now
Than the day I packed her and her mother,—I’m derned if I jest know
how.
But the doctor kem the next minit, and the joke o’ the whole thing is
That Cis. never knew what happened from that very night to this!
But Cicely says you’re a poet, and maybe you might, some day,
Jest sling her a rhyme ’bout a baby that was born in a curious way,
And see what she says; but, old fellow, when you speak of the star,
don’t tell
As how ’twas the doctor’s lantern,—for maybe ’twon’t sound so well.
RECIPROCITY
By H. Bedford-Jones
HULLO!
By Sam Walter Foss
COLUMBUS
By Arthur Hugh Clough
Then he sat down beside her, and an hour or two went by,
But still upon the grassy brink his rod and line did lie;
“I thought,” she shyly whispered, “you’d be fishing all the day!”
And he was—in the usual way.
So he gravely took his rod in hand and threw the line about,
But the fish perceived distinctly he was not looking out;
And he said, “Sweetheart, I love you,” but she said she could not
stay,
But she did—in the usual way.
Then the stars came out above them, and she gave a little sigh
As they watched the silver ripples like the moments running by;
“We must say good-by,” she whispered by the alders old and gray.
And they did—in the usual way.
And day by day beside the stream, they wandered to and fro,
And day by day the fishes swam securely down below,
Till this little story ended, as such little stories may,
Very much—in the usual way.
And now that they are married, do they always bill and coo?
Do they never fret and quarrel, like other couples do?
Does he cherish her and love her? Does she honor and obey?
Well, they do—in the usual way.
HUMOROUS SELECTIONS IN POETRY
A SIMILAR CASE
Anonymous
IRISH CASTLES
By Fitz-James O’Brien