艾米·洛威尔经典诗歌：Off the Turnpike(2)

　　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.