The planting over, why, every lad In a space of ten good mile Was off for the school with a sudden zeal That made all us old folks smile.
How she took to our wide prairie After towns with narrow streets! To watch that west eighty-acre field Was one of her queer conceits.
"You planted that corn the day I came," She said, "and I love to go And watch the sun-mother kiss and coax Each slim green stalk to grow."
I called her "Cornflower" when she took To wearing 'em in her belt. The young chaps were all in love with her— And I knew just how they felt.
Oh, I tell you that was a summer, Such sunshine, such dew, such rain; Never saw crops grow so in my life— Don't expect I will again.
To watch that west eighty-acre field, When the fall came clear and cold, Was something like a sermon to me— Made me think of streets of gold.
But about that time the new school-ma'am Had words with the first trustee; A scholar had taken the fever And she was for blaming me.
That schoolhouse should be raised from the ground— Grave reason there for alarm; A new coat of plaster be put on That the children be kept warm.
A well—a good one—should take the place Of the deathtrap that was there. "This should all be done at once," she said. Cost five hundred dollars clear!
I told her I couldn't think of it, But, when all my work was through, If the taxes came in middling good, I would see what I could do.