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| OUT of the old house, Nancy—moved up into the new; | |
| All the hurry and worry is just as good as through. | |
| Only a bounden duty remains for you and I— | |
| And that ’s to stand on the doorstep here, and bid the old house good-by. | |
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| What a shell we ’ve lived in, these nineteen or twenty years! | 5 |
| Wonder it had n’t smashed in, and tumbled about our ears; | |
| Wonder it ’s stuck together, and answered till to-day; | |
| But every individual log was put up here to stay. | |
| |
| Things looked rather new, though, when this old house was built; | |
| And things that blossomed you would’ve made some women wilt; | 10 |
| And every other day, then, as sure as day would break, | |
| My neighbor Ager come this way, invitin’ me to “shake.” | |
| |
| And you, for want of neighbors, was sometimes blue and sad, | |
| For wolves and bears and wildcats was the nearest ones you had; | |
| But, lookin’ ahead to the clearin’, we worked with all our might, | 15 |
| Until we was fairly out of the woods, and things was goin’ right. | |
| |
| Look up there at our new house!—ain’t it a thing to see? | |
| Tall and big and handsome, and new as new can be; | |
| All in apple-pie order, especially the shelves, | |
| And never a debt to say but what we own it all ourselves. | 20 |
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| Look at our old log-house—how little it now appears! | |
| But it ’s never gone back on us for nineteen or twenty years; | |
| An’ I won’t go back on it now, or go to pokin’ fun— | |
| There ’s such a thing as praisin’ a thing for the good that it has done. | |
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| Probably you remember how rich we was that night, | 25 |
| When we was fairly settled, an’ had things snug and tight: | |
| We feel as proud as you please, Nancy, over our house that ’s new, | |
| But we felt as proud under this old roof, and a good deal prouder, too. | |
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| Never a handsomer house was seen beneath the sun: | |
| Kitchen and parlor and bedroom—we had ’em all in one; | 30 |
| And the fat old wooden clock, that we bought when we come West, | |
| Was tickin’ away in the corner there, and doin’ its level best. | |
| |
| Trees was all around us, a-whisperin’ cheering words; | |
| Loud was the squirrel’s chatter, and sweet the songs of birds; | |
| And home grew sweeter and brighter—our courage began to mount— | 35 |
| And things looked hearty and happy then, and work appeared to count. | |
| |
| And here one night it happened, when things was goin’ bad, | |
| We fell in a deep old quarrel—the first we ever had; | |
| And when you give out and cried, then I, like a fool, give in, | |
| And then we agreed to rub all out, and start the thing ag’in. | 40 |
| |
| Here it was, you remember, we sat when the day was done, | |
| And you was a-makin’ clothing that was n’t for either one; | |
| And often a soft word of love I was soft enough to say, | |
| And the wolves was howlin’ in the woods not twenty rods away. | |
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| Then our first-born baby—a regular little joy, | 45 |
| Though I fretted a little because it was n’t a boy: | |
| Wa’ n’t she a little flirt, though, with all her pouts and smiles? | |
| Why, settlers come to see that show a half a dozen miles. | |
| |
| Yonder sat the cradle—a homely, home-made thing,— | |
| And many a night I rocked it, providin’ you would sing; | 50 |
| And many a little squatter brought up with us to stay,— | |
| And so that cradle, for many a year, was never put away. | |
| |
| How they kept a-comin’, so cunnin’ and fat and small! | |
| How they growed! ’t was a wonder how we found room for ’em all; | |
| But though the house was crowded, it empty seemed that day | 55 |
| When Jennie lay by the fireplace there, and moaned her life away. | |
| |
| An’ right in there the preacher, with Bible and hymn-book, stood, | |
| “’Twixt the dead and the living,” and “hoped ’t would do us good;” | |
| And the little whitewood coffin on the table there was set, | |
| And now as I rub my eyes it seems as if I could see it yet. | 60 |
| |
| Then that fit of sickness it brought on you, you know; | |
| Just by a thread you hung, and you e’en-a’-most let go; | |
| And here is the spot I tumbled, an’ give the Lord his due, | |
| When the doctor said the fever’d turned, an’ he could fetch you through. | |
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| Yes, a deal has happened to make this old house dear: | 65 |
| Christenin’s, funerals, weddin’s—what have n’t we had here? | |
| Not a log in this buildin’ but its memories has got, | |
| And not a nail in this old floor but touches a tender spot. | |
| |
| Out of the old house, Nancy,—moved up into the new; | |
| All the hurry and worry is just as good as through; | 70 |
| But I tell you a thing right here, that I ain’t ashamed to say, | |
| There ’s precious things in this old house we never can take away. | |
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| Here the old house will stand, but not as it stood before: | |
| Winds will whistle through it, and rains will flood the floor; | |
| And over the hearth, once blazing, the snow-drifts oft will pile, | 75 |
| And the old thing will seem to be a-mournin’ all the while. | |
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| Fare you well, old house! you ’re naught that can feel or see, | |
| But you seem like a human being—a dear old friend to me; | |
| And we never will have a better home, if my opinion stands, | |
| Until we commence a-keepin’ house in the house not made with hands. | 80 |
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