Only page of title Very Easy
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And ben back home, and chopped
His wood, and et his breakfast, he
Jist grabbed his mitts and hopped
Right in on that-air old Snow-Man
That he laid out he'd make
Er bust a trace _a-tryin_' -- jist
Fer old-acquaintance sake! --
But work like that wuz lots more fun.
To git the _top-half_ on
The _legs-half! _ -- When he _did_, he said,
His wind wuz purt'-nigh gone. --
He said, I jucks! he jist drapped down
There on the old porch-floor
And panted like a dog! -- And then
He up! and rolled some more! --
The _last_ batch -- that wuz fer his head, --
And -- time he'd got it right
And clumb and fixed it on, he said --
He hat to quit fer night! --
And _then_, he said, he'd kep' right on
Ef they'd ben any _moon_
To work by! So he crawled in bed --
And _could_ a-slep' tel _noon_,
He wuz so plum wore out! he said, --
But it wuz washin'-day,
And hat to cut a cord o' wood
'Fore he could git away!
A stern, heroic form:
What was the winter blast to him,
And what the driving storm? --
What wonder that the children pressed
Their faces at the pane
And scratched away the frost, in pride
To look on him again? --
What wonder that, with yearning bold,
Their all of love and care
Went warmest through the keenest cold
To that Snow-Man out there!
What a dubious delight
He grew at last when Spring came on
And days waxed warm and bright. --
Alone he stood -- all kith and kin
Of snow and ice were gone; --
Alone, with constant teardrops in
His eyes and glittering on
His thin, pathetic beard of black --
Grief in a hopeless cause! --
Hope -- hope is for the man that _dies_ --
What for the man that _thaws! _
O Hero of a hero's make! --
Let _marble_ melt and fade,
But never _you_ -- you old Snow-Man
That Noey Bixler made!
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