Well, I kept the boy till evening--kept him against his will--
But he was too weak to follow, and sat there pale and still;
When it was cool and dusky--you'll wonder to hear me tell--
But I stole down to the gully, and brought up Kentucky Belle.
I kissed the star on her forehead--my pretty, gentle lass--
But I knew that she'd be happy, back in the old Blue-Grass:
A suit of clothes of Conrad's, with all the money I had,
And Kentucky, pretty Kentucky, I gave to the worn-out lad.
I guided him to the southward, as well as I knew how:
The boy rode off with many thanks, and many a backward bow;
And then the glow it faded, and my heart began to swell;
And down the glen away she went, my lost Kentucky Belle!
When Conrad came in the evening, the moon was shining high,
Baby and I were both crying--I couldn't tell him why--
But a battered suit of rebel gray was hanging on the wall,
And a thin old horse with drooping head stood in Kentucky's
stall.
Well, he was kind, and never once said a hard word to me,
He knew I couldn't help it--'twas all for the Tennessee;
But, after the war was over, just think what came to pass--
A letter, sir, and the two were safe back in the old Blue-Grass.
The lad got across the border, riding Kentucky Belle;
And Kentuck she was thriving, and fat, and hearty, and well;
He cared for her, and kept her, nor touched her with whip or
spur;
Ah! we've had many horses, but never a horse like her!
CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53