艾米·洛威爾的經(jīng)典詩歌：Off the Turnpike

艾米·洛威爾的經(jīng)典詩歌：Off the Turnpike

　　下面是學(xué)習(xí)啦小編為大家?guī)戆?middot;洛威爾的經(jīng)典詩歌：Off the Turnpike，希望大家喜歡!

　　Good ev'nin', Mis' Priest.

　　I jest stepped in to tell you Good-bye.

　　Yes, it's all over.

　　All my things is packed

　　An' every last one o' them boxes

　　Is on Bradley's team

　　Bein' hauled over to th' depot.

　　No, I ain't goin' back agin.

　　I'm stoppin' over to French's fer to-night,

　　And goin' down first train in th' mornin'.

　　Yes, it do seem kinder queer

　　Not to be goin' to see Cherry's Orchard no more,

　　But Land Sakes! When a change's comin',

　　Why, I al'ays say it can't come too quick.

　　Now, that's real kind o' you,

　　Your doughnuts is always so tasty.

　　Yes, I'm goin' to Chicago,

　　To my niece,

　　She's married to a fine man, hardware business,

　　An' doin' real well, she tells me.

　　Lizzie's be'n at me to go out ther for the longest while.

　　She ain't got no kith nor kin to Chicago, you know

　　She's rented me a real nice little flat,

　　Same house as hers,

　　An' I'm goin' to try that city livin' folks say's so pleasant.

　　Oh, yes, he was real generous,

　　Paid me a sight o' money fer the Orchard;

　　I told him 'twouldn't yield nothin' but stones,

　　But he ain't farmin' it.

　　Lor', no, Mis' Priest,

　　He's jest took it to set and look at the view.

　　Mebbe he wouldn't be so stuck on the view

　　Ef he'd seed it every mornin' and night for forty year

　　Same's as I have.

　　I dessay it's pretty enough,

　　But it's so pressed into me

　　I c'n see't with my eyes shut.

　　No. I ain't cold, Mis' Priest,

　　Don't shut th' door.

　　I'll be all right in a minit.

　　But I ain't a mite sorry to leave that view.

　　Well, mebbe 'tis queer to feel so,

　　An' mebbe 'taint.

　　My! But that tea's revivin'.

　　Old things ain't always pleasant things, Mis' Priest.

　　No, no, I don't cal'late on comin' back,

　　That's why I'd ruther be to Chicago,

　　Boston's too near.

　　It ain't cold, Mis' Priest,

　　It's jest my thoughts.

　　I ain't sick, only --

　　Mis' Priest, ef you've nothin' ter take yer time,

　　An' have a mind to listen,

　　Ther's somethin' I'd like ter speak about

　　I ain't never mentioned it,

　　But I'd like to tell yer 'fore I go.

　　Would you mind lowerin' them shades,

　　Fall twilight's awful grey,

　　An' that fire's real cosy with the shades drawed.

　　Well, I guess folks about here think I've be'n dret'ful onsociable.

　　You needn't say 'taint so, 'cause I know diff'rent.

　　An' what's more, it's true.

　　Well, the reason is I've be'n scared out o' my life.

　　Scared ev'ry minit o' th' time, fer eight year.

　　Eight mortal year 'tis, come next June.

　　'Twas on the eighteenth o' June,

　　Six months after I'd buried my husband,

　　That somethin' happened ter me.

　　Mebbe you'll mind that afore that

　　I was a cheery body.

　　Hiram was too,

　　Al'ays liked to ask a neighbor in,

　　An' ev'n when he died,

　　Barrin' low sperrits, I warn't averse to seein' nobody.

　　But that eighteenth o' June changed ev'rythin'.

　　I was doin' most o' th' farmwork myself,

　　With jest a hired boy, Clarence King, 'twas,

　　Comin' in fer an hour or two.

　　Well, that eighteenth o' June

　　I was goin' round,

　　Lockin' up and seein' to things 'fore I went to bed.

　　I was jest steppin' out t' th' barn,

　　Goin' round outside 'stead o' through the shed,

　　'Cause there was such a sight o' moonlight

　　Somehow or another I thought 'twould be pretty outdoors.

　　I got settled for pretty things that night, I guess.

　　I ain't stuck on 'em no more.

　　Well, them laylock bushes side o' th' house

　　Was real lovely.

　　Glitt'rin' and shakin' in the moonlight,

　　An' the smell o' them rose right up

　　An' most took my breath away.

　　The colour o' the spikes was all faded out,

　　They never keep their colour when the moon's on 'em,

　　But the smell fair 'toxicated me.

　　I was al'ays partial to a sweet scent,

　　An' I went close up t' th' bushes

　　So's to put my face right into a flower.

　　Mis' Priest, jest's I got breathin' in that laylock bloom

　　I saw, layin' right at my feet,

　　A man's hand!

　　It was as white's the side o' th' house,

　　And sparklin' like that lum'nous paint they put on gate-posts.

　　I screamed right out,

　　I couldn't help it,

　　An' I could hear my scream

　　Goin' over an' over

　　In that echo be'ind th' barn.

　　Hearin' it agin an' agin like that

　　Scared me so, I dar'sn't scream any more.

　　I jest stood ther,

　　And looked at that hand.

　　I thought the echo'd begin to hammer like my heart,

　　But it didn't.

　　There was only th' wind,

　　Sighin' through the laylock leaves,

　　An' slappin' 'em up agin the house.

　　Well, I guess I looked at that hand

　　Most ten minits,

　　An' it never moved,

　　Jest lay there white as white.

　　After a while I got to thinkin' that o' course

　　'Twas some drunken tramp over from Redfield.

　　That calmed me some,

　　An' I commenced to think I'd better git him out

　　From under them laylocks.

　　I planned to drag him in t' th' barn

　　An' lock him in ther till Clarence come in th' mornin'.

　　I got so mad thinkin' o' that all-fired brazen tramp

　　Asleep in my laylocks,

　　I jest stooped down and grabbed th' hand and give it an awful pull.

　　Then I bumped right down settin' on the ground.

　　Mis' Priest, ther warn't no body come with the hand.

　　No, it ain't cold, it's jest that I can't abear thinkin' of it,

　　Ev'n now.

　　I'll take a sip o' tea.

　　Thank you, Mis' Priest, that's better.

　　I'd ruther finish now I've begun.

　　Thank you, jest the same.

　　I dropped the hand's ef it'd be'n red hot

　　'Stead o' ice cold.

　　Fer a minit or two I jest laid on that grass

　　Pantin'.

　　Then I up and run to them laylocks

　　An' pulled 'em every which way.

　　True es I'm settin' here, Mis' Priest,

　　Ther warn't nothin' ther.

　　I peeked an' pryed all about 'em,

　　But ther warn't no man ther

　　Neither livin' nor dead.

　　But the hand was ther all right,

　　Upside down, the way I'd dropped it,

　　And glist'nin' fit to dazzle yer.

　　I don't know how I done it,

　　An' I don't know why I done it,

　　But I wanted to git that dret'ful hand out o' sight

　　I got in t' th' barn, somehow,

　　An' felt roun' till I got a spade.

　　I couldn't stop fer a lantern,

　　Besides, the moonlight was bright enough in all conscience.

　　Then I scooped that awful thing up in th' spade.

　　I had a sight o' trouble doin' it.

　　It slid off, and tipped over, and I couldn't bear

　　Ev'n to touch it with my foot to prop it,

　　But I done it somehow.

　　Then I carried it off be'ind the barn,

　　Clost to an old apple-tree

　　Where you couldn't see from the house,

　　An' I buried it,

　　Good an' deep.

　　I don't rec'lect nothin' more o' that night.

　　Clarence woke me up in th' mornin',

　　Hollerin' fer me to come down and set th' milk.

　　When he'd gone,

　　I stole roun' to the apple-tree

　　And seed the earth all new turned

　　Where I left it in my hurry.

　　I did a heap o' gardenin'

　　That mornin'.

　　I couldn't cut no big sods

　　Fear Clarence would notice and ask me what I wanted 'em fer,

　　So I got teeny bits o' turf here and ther,

　　And no one couldn't tell ther'd be'n any diggin'

　　When I got through.

　　They was awful days after that, Mis' Priest,

　　I used ter go every mornin' and poke about them bushes,

　　An' up and down the fence,

　　Ter find the body that hand come off of.

　　But I couldn't never find nothin'.

　　I'd lay awake nights

　　Hearin' them laylocks blowin' and whiskin'.

　　At last I had Clarence cut 'em down

　　An' make a big bonfire of 'em.

　　I told him the smell made me sick,

　　An' that warn't no lie,

　　I can't abear the smell on 'em now;

　　An' no wonder, es you say.

　　I fretted somethin' awful 'bout that hand

　　I wondered, could it be Hiram's,

　　But folks don't rob graveyards hereabouts.

　　Besides, Hiram's hands warn't that awful, starin' white.

　　I give up seein' people,

　　I was afeared I'd say somethin'.

　　You know what folks thought o' me

　　Better'n I do, I dessay,

　　But mebbe now you'll see I couldn't do nothin' diff'rent.

　　But I stuck it out,

　　I warn't goin' to be downed

　　By no loose hand, no matter how it come ther

　　But that ain't the worst, Mis' Priest,

　　Not by a long ways.

　　Two year ago, Mr. Densmore made me an offer for Cherry's Orchard.

　　Well, I'd got used to th' thought o' bein' sort o' blighted,

　　An' I warn't scared no more.

　　Lived down my fear, I guess.

　　I'd kinder got used to th' thought o' that awful night,

　　And I didn't mope much about it.

　　Only I never went out o' doors by moonlight;

　　That stuck.

　　Well, when Mr. Densmore's offer come,

　　I started thinkin' 'bout the place

　　An' all the things that had gone on ther.

　　Thinks I, I guess I'll go and see where I put the hand.

　　I was foolhardy with the long time that had gone by.

　　I know'd the place real well,

　　Fer I'd put it right in between two o' the apple roots.

　　I don't know what possessed me, Mis' Priest,

　　But I kinder wanted to know

　　That the hand had been flesh and bone, anyway.

　　It had sorter bothered me, thinkin' I might ha' imagined it.

　　I took a mornin' when the sun was real pleasant and warm;

　　I guessed I wouldn't jump for a few old bones.

　　But I did jump, somethin' wicked.

　　Ther warn't no bones!

　　Ther warn't nothin'!

　　Not ev'n the gold ring I'd minded bein' on the little finger.

　　I don't know ef ther ever was anythin'.

　　I've worried myself sick over it.

　　I be'n diggin' and diggin' day in and day out

　　Till Clarence ketched me at it.

　　Oh, I know'd real well what you all thought,

　　An' I ain't sayin' you're not right,

　　But I ain't goin' to end in no county 'sylum

　　If I c'n help it.

　　The shiv'rin' fits come on me sudden like.

　　I know 'em, don't you trouble.

　　I've fretted considerable about the 'sylum,

　　I guess I be'n frettin' all the time I ain't be'n diggin'.

　　But anyhow I can't dig to Chicago, can I?

　　Thank you, Mis' Priest,

　　I'm better now. I only dropped in in passin'.

　　I'll jest be steppin' along down to French's.

　　No, I won't be seein' nobody in the mornin',

　　It's a pretty early start.

　　Don't you stand ther, Mis' Priest,

　　The wind'll blow yer lamp out,

　　An' I c'n see easy, I got aholt o' the gate now.

　　I ain't a mite tired, thank you.

　　Good-night.