But the Deacon swore (as deacons do, With an 'I dew vum,' or an 'I tell yeou") He would build one shay to beat the taown 'N' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun'; 30 It should be so built that it could n' break daown:

'Fur,' said the Deacon, ''t's mighty plain Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain;

'N' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain,

Is only jest

T' make that place uz strong uz the rest.'

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk

Where he could find the strongest oak, That could n't be split nor bent nor broke, That was for spokes and floor and sills; 40 He sent for lancewood to make the thills; The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees,

The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese,

But lasts like iron for things like these; The hubs of logs from the 'Settler's ellum,'

Last of its timber, - they could n't sell 'em, Never an axe had seen their chips,

And the wedges flew from between their lips,

50

Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips;
Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,
Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too,
Steel of the finest, bright and blue;
Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide;
Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide
Found in the pit when the tanner died.
That was the way he put her through.'
'There!' said the Deacon, 'naow she 'll
dew!'

There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,

A general flavor of mild decay,
But nothing local, as one may say.

There could n't be, for the Deacon's art Had made it so like in every part

That there was n't a chance for one to

First of November, 'Fifty-five! This morning the parson takes a drive. Now, small boys, get out of the way! Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay, Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay. 'Huddup!' said the parson. - Off went they.

100

The parson was working his Sunday's text,

CONTENTMENT

'Man wants but little here below.'

LITTLE I ask; my wants are few;
I only wish a hut of stone
(A very plain brown stone will do)
That I may call my own;-
And close at hand is such a one,
In yonder street that fronts the sun.

Plain food is quite enough for me;
Three courses are as good as ten; —
If Nature can subsist on three,

Thank Heaven for three. Amen! I always thought cold victual nice; My choice would be vanilla-ice.

120

1858.

10

I care not much for gold or land; -
Give me a mortgage here and there, —
Some good bank-stock, some note of hand,
Or trifling railroad share,

I only ask that Fortune send
A little more than I shall spend.

Honors are silly toys, I know,

And titles are but empty names;
I would, perhaps, be Plenipo,

But only near St. James;
I'm very sure I should not care
To fill our Gubernator's chair.

Jewels are baubles; 't is a sin

To care for such unfruitful things;

20

70

1858.

Nicest place that ever was seen,— Colleges red and Common green,

Sidewalks brownish with trees between. 20
Sweetest spot beneath the skies
When the canker-worms don't rise,
When the dust, that sometimes flies
Into your mouth and ears and eyes,
In a quiet slumber lies,

Not in the shape of unbaked pies
Such as barefoot children prize.

A kind of harbor it seems to be,
Facing the flow of a boundless sea.
Rows of gray old Tutors stand
Ranged like rocks above the sand;
Rolling beneath them, soft and green,
Breaks the tide of bright sixteen,

One wave, two waves, three waves, four,
Sliding up the sparkling floor:
Then it ebbs to flow no more,
Wandering off from shore to shore
With its freight of golden ore!
Pleasant place for boys to play; —
Better keep your girls away;
Hearts get rolled as pebbles do
Which countless fingering waves pursue,
And every classic beach is strown

30

40

With heart-shaped pebbles of blood-red

stone.

About those conditions?' Well, now you

go

140

And do as I tell you, and then you'll know.
Once a year, on Commencement day,
If you 'll only take the pains to stay,
You'll see the President in the CHAIR,
Likewise the Governor sitting there.
The President rises; both old and young
May hear his speech in a foreign tongue,
The meaning whereof, as lawyers swear,
Is this: Can I keep this old arm-chair?
And then his Excellency bows,

As much as to say that he allows.
The Vice-Gub. next is called by name;
He bows like t' other, which means the

1 For nearly forty years, from 1851 to 1889, Holmes never failed to bring a poem to the annual reunion of his college class. These poems, merely occasional,' and local as they were in origin, form a section in his collected works which is perhaps the most important, and, except for his best humorous narratives and his two finest lyrics, the most likely to survive; for, with all Holmes's characteristic wit and humor, they celebrate feelings that are broadly and typically American

class loyalty and college loyalty, and growing out of these, the loyalty of man's enduring friendship, and loyalty to country.

The famous class of '29' counted among its members a chief-justice of Massachusetts, George T. Bigelow (the 'Judge' of this poem); a justice of the United