Part 4 — THE COURTIN'. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
Reading edition
Zekle crep' up, quite unbeknown, An' peeked in thru the winder, An there sot Huldy all alone, 'ith no one nigh to hender.
Agin' the chimbly crooknecks hung, An' in among 'em rusted The ole queen's arm thet gran'ther Young Fetched back from Concord busted.
The wannut logs shot sparkles out Toward the pootiest, bless her! An' leetle fires danced all about The chiny on the dresser.
The very room, coz she wuz in, Looked warm frum floor to ceilin'. An' she looked full ez rosy agin Ez th' apple she wuz peelin'.
She heerd a foot an' knowd it, tu, Araspin' on the scraper— All ways to once her feelins flew Like sparks in burnt-up paper.
He kin' o' l'itered on the mat, Some doubtfle of the seekle: His heart kep' goin' pitypat, But hern went pity Zekle.