XIX.

An' the noise of the creek as it called tew me, "Pard, don't ye mind the mossy, green spot Whar a creek stood still fur a drowzin' spell Right in the midst of the old home lot? Whar, right at sundown on Sabba'day, Ye skinn'd yerself of yer meetin' clothes, An dove, like a duck, whar the water clar Shone up like glass through the lily-blows?