Poetry Center

Readings from Croquet in the Lou 2025

The Vineyard

Into the vineyard I went with Bill,
Blithe as youth can be,
As the sun declined beyond the hill
And drowsed in the western sea;
And under the arching vines we sat,
And we sampled this and we sampled that
‘Till we didn’t know where we were at,
Nor the devil a bit cared we.

Out of the vineyard I came with Bill,
Just in time to see
The sun peep over an eastern hill
And grin at Bill and me.
And Bill remarked: “We quit too soon;
Let us sit in the light of that silvery moon
And list to the nightingale’s plaintive tune!”
So back to the vineyard we went.

September 7, 1895

Romance of a “Cuss-Word”

Broad expanse of shiny shirt-front,
Cuffs and collar white to match,
Overcoat with silken facing-
Just the rig to make a catch.

Pretty lady coming toward him;
He prepare to make a mash;
Meets a stumbling horse with a splash!

Man who looked so sweet and gentle,
Like a little suckling lamb,
Now becomes a raving lion;
Girl goes by and hears him d–n.

Girl is shocked beyond expression-
Thinks his language simply vile;
Yet believes that she can save him-
Meets him next time with a smile.

Man apologizes bravely,
Says his anger made him rash.
Girl replies it but convinced her
He’s a man of proper dash.

They are married in November;
Wife is over all her scare;
Says she thought him soft and sickish
Till the day she heard him swear.

March 20, 1884

The Duel

also known as The Gingham Dog & Calico Cat

The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
‘T was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)
Nor one nor t’ other had slept a wink!
The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate
Appeared to know as sure as fate
There was going to be a terrible spat.
(I wasn’t there; I simply state
            What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)

The gingham dog went “bow-wow-wow!”
And the calico cat replied “mee-ow!”
The air was littered, an hour or so,
With bits of gingham and calico,
While the old Dutch clock in the chimney-place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
(Now mind: I’m only telling you
            What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)

The Chinese plate looked very blue,
And wailed, “Oh, dear! what shall we do!”
But the gingham dog and the calico cat
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
Employing every tooth and claw
In the awfullest way you ever saw—
And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
(Don’t fancy I exaggerate—
            I got my news from the Chinese plate!)

Next morning, where the two had sat
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think unto this day
That burglars stole that pair away!
But the truth about the cat and pup
Is this: they ate each other up!
Now what do you really think of that!
(The old Dutch clock it told me so,
            And that is how I came to know.)

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
   Sailed off in a wooden shoe,—
Sailed on a river of crystal light
   Into a sea of dew.
“Where are you going, and what do you wish?”
   The old moon asked the three.
“We have come to fish for the herring-fish
   That live in this beautiful sea;
   Nets of silver and gold have we,”
            Said Wynken,
            Blynken,
            And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
   As they rocked in the wooden shoe;
And the wind that sped them all night long
   Ruffled the waves of dew;
The little stars were the herring-fish
   That lived in the beautiful sea.
“Now cast your nets wherever you wish,—
   Never afraid are we!”
   So cried the stars to the fishermen three,
            Wynken,
            Blynken,
            And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
   To the stars in the twinkling foam,—
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
   Bringing the fishermen home:
‘Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed
   As if it could not be;
And some folk thought ’twas a dream they’d dreamed
   Of sailing that beautiful sea;
   But I shall name you the fishermen three:
            Wynken,
            Blynken,
            And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
   And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
   Is a wee one’s trundle-bed;
So shut your eyes while Mother sings
   Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
   As you rock in the misty sea
   Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:—
            Wynken,
            Blynken,
            And Nod.

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