God makes sech nights, all white an' still Fur 'z you can look or listen, Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill, All silence an' all glisten.
Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru the winder. An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'ith no one nigh to hender.
A fireplace filled the room's one side With half a cord o' wood in-- There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'.
The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her, An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser.
Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung, An' in amongst 'em rusted The ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther Young Fetched back from Concord busted.
The very room, coz she was in, Seemed warm from floor to ceilin', An' she looked full ez rosy agin Ez the apples she was peelin'.
'Twas kin' o' kingdom-come to look On sech a blessed cretur, A dogrose blushin' to a brook Ain't modester nor sweeter.
He was six foot o' man, A 1, Clear grit an' human natur'; None couldn't quicker pitch a ton Nor dror a furrer straighter,
He'd sparked it with full twenty gals, Hed squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em, Fust this one, an' then thet, by spells-- All is, he couldn't love 'em,
But long o' her his veins 'ould run All crinkly like curled maple, The side she breshed felt full o' sun Ez a south slope in Ap'il.
She thought no v'ice hed sech a swing Ez hisn in the choir; My! when he made Ole Hunderd ring, She _knowed_ the Lord was nigher.
An' she'd blush scarlet, right in prayer, When her new meetin'-bunnit Felt somehow thru its crown a pair O' blue eyes sot upun it.
Thet night, I tell ye, she looked _some!_ She seemed to 've gut a new soul, For she felt sartin-sure he'd come, Down to her very shoe-sole.
She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu, A-raspin' on the scraper,-- All ways to once her feelin's flew Like sparks in burnt-up paper.
He kin' o' l'itered on the mat, Some doubtfle o' the sekle, His heart kep' goin' pity-pat, But hern went pity Zekle.
An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk Ez though she wished him furder, An' on her apples kep' to work, Parin' away like murder.
"You want to see my Pa, I s'pose?" "Wal--no--I come dasignin'"-- "To see my Ma? She's sprinklin' clo'es Agin to-morrer's i'nin'."