Property:Has text
From Off the Road Database
This is a property of type Text.
A
<div class="poem">
<p>“Will you believe me if I put it there<br />
Right on the counterpane—that I do trust you?”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“Unless you wouldn’t mind<br />
Sharing a room with someone else.”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p> “Fourteen! You say so!<br />
I can remember when I wore fourteen.<br />
And come to think I must have back at home<br />
More than a hundred collars, size fourteen.<br />
Too bad to waste them all. You ought to have them.<br />
They’re yours and welcome; let me send them to you.<br />
What makes you stand there on one leg like that?<br />
You’re not much furtherer than where Kike left you,<br />
You act as if you wished you hadn’t come.<br />
Sit down or lie down, friend; you make me nervous.”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“Not that way, with your shoes on Kike’s white bed.<br />
You can’t rest that way. Let me pull your shoes off.”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“Don’t touch me, please—I say, don’t touch me, please.<br />
I’ll not be put to bed by you, my man.”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“So I should hope. What kind of man?”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“Then you know me.<br />
Now we are getting on together—talking.<br />
I’m sort of Something for it at the front.<br />
My business is to find what people want:<br />
They pay for it, and so they ought to have it.<br />
Fairbanks, he says to me—he’s editor—<br />
Feel out the public sentiment—he says.<br />
A good deal comes on me when all is said.<br />
The only trouble is we disagree<br />
In politics: I’m Vermont Democrat—<br />
You know what that is, sort of double-dyed;<br />
The News has always been Republican.<br />
Fairbanks, he says to me, ‘Help us this year,’<br />
Meaning by us their ticket. ‘No,’ I says,<br />
‘I can’t and won’t. You’ve been in long enough:<br />
It’s time you turned around and boosted us.<br />
You’ll have to pay me more than ten a week<br />
If I’m expected to elect Bill Taft.<br />
I doubt if I could do it anyway.’“
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“One would suppose they might not be as glad<br />
To see you as you are to see them.”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“No, no, no, thank you.”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>The night clerk blinked his eyes and dared him on.<br />
“Who’s that man sleeping in the office chair?<br />
Has he had the refusal of my chance?”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“Not till I shrink, when they’ll be out of style.”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“He was afraid of being robbed or murdered.<br />
What do you say?”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“But really I—I have so many collars.”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“You say ‘unless.’“
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“I can search you?<br />
Where are you moving over to? Stay still.<br />
You’d better tuck your money under you<br />
And sleep on it the way I always do<br />
When I’m with people I don’t trust at night.”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“I’m not afraid.<br />
There’s five: that’s all I carry.”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“Just as you say. Here’s looking at you then.—<br />
And now I’m leaving you a little while.<br />
You’ll rest easier when I’m gone, perhaps—<br />
Lie down—let yourself go and get some sleep.<br />
But first—let’s see—what was I going to ask you?<br />
Those collars—who shall I address them to,<br />
Suppose you aren’t awake when I come back?”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>“Professor Square-the-circle-till-you’re-tired?<br />
Hold on, there’s something I don’t think of now<br />
That I had on my mind to ask the first<br />
Man that knew anything I happened in with.<br />
I’ll ask you later—don’t let me forget it.”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>The night clerk led him up three flights of stairs<br />
And down a narrow passage full of doors,<br />
At the last one of which he knocked and entered.<br />
“Lafe, here’s a fellow wants to share your room.”
</p>
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<div class="poem">
<p>Lancaster bore him—such a little town,<br />
Such a great man. It doesn’t see him often<br />
Of late years, though he keeps the old homestead<br />
And sends the children down there with their mother<br />
To run wild in the summer—a little wild.<br />
Sometimes he joins them for a day or two<br />
And sees old friends he somehow can’t get near.<br />
They meet him in the general store at night,<br />
Preoccupied with formidable mail,<br />
Rifling a printed letter as he talks.<br />
They seem afraid. He wouldn’t have it so:<br />
Though a great scholar, he’s a democrat,<br />
If not at heart, at least on principle.<br />
Lately when coming up to Lancaster<br />
His train being late he missed another train<br />
And had four hours to wait at Woodsville Junction<br />
After eleven o’clock at night. Too tired<br />
To think of sitting such an ordeal out,<br />
He turned to the hotel to find a bed.
</p>
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