Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By Henry AugustinBeers986 Biftek Aux Champignons
M
Don’t get behind your fan—
That morning in September
On the cliffs of Grand Manan,
Where to the shock of Fundy
The topmost harebells sway
(Campanula rotundi-
folia: cf. Gray)?
That overlook the sea,
Where I wondered what the devil
Those little things could be
That Mimi stooped to gather,
As she strolled across the down,
And held her dress skirt rather—
Oh, now, you need n’t frown.
And your boots, I know, were thin;
So a little extra brevity in skirts was, sure, no sin.
Besides, who minds a cousin?
First, second, even third,—
I ’ve kissed ’em by the dozen,
And they never once demurred.
Quoth I, “Ma belle cousine,
What have you in your basket?”
(Those baskets white and green
The brave Passamaquoddies
Weave out of scented grass,
And sell to tourist bodies
Who through Mt. Desert pass.)
“Put down your stupid book—
That everlasting Browning!—
And come and help me look.
Mushroom you spik him English,
I call him champignon:
I ’ll teach you to distinguish
The right kind from the wrong.”
That blue September day;
The west wind, for that one day,
Had swept it all away.
The lighthouse glasses twinkled,
The white gulls screamed and flew,
The merry sheep-bells tinkled,
The merry breezes blew.
The papery immortelles
(That give our grandma’s attic
That sentimental smell,
Tied up in little brush-brooms)
Were sweet as new-mown hay,
While we went hunting mushrooms
That blue September day.