Versos English Douglas Malloch Jim

English poem

Jim

by (1877–1938)

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If you go to the lake An’ you follow the road As it turns to the west Of the mill Till you come to a stake A surveyor has throwed Like a knife in the breast Of the hill, An’ you follow the track Till you come to a blaze By the side of the same In a limb, You will light on the shack, In the timber a ways, Of a party whose name It is Jim. In a day that is flown, ’Mid the great an’ the grand, In a time when his hair Wasn’t gray, He was commonly known By a fancier brand In a city back there, So they say. But it’s Jim, only Jim, Is the name thet he gives, When you happen to bring Up the same; It is plenty fer him In the woods where he lives, Fer the man is the thing, Not the name. By the gleam of his eye Thet is steady an’ clear, By the way he will look At you square, You will know thet they lie Who would make it appear He was maybe a crook Over there. In the church I have stood-- Heard of preachin’ a lot Thet I never could much Understand; An’ yet never the good From a sermon I got Thet I got from a clutch Of his hand. I have half an idee Thet, if back you could turn To the start of the trail Fer a spell, Thet a woman you’d see, Thet a lot you would learn-- Thet the regaler tale It would tell Of a fellah too fond, Of a woman too weak, Of another who came To her door-- Then an endless beyond, Lips thet never must speak, An’ a man but a name Evermore. If you go to the town An’ you follow the street, By the glitter an’ glow Of the light, To a mansion of brown Where the music is sweet An’ the lute whispers low To the night, In the dark of a room At the end of a hall, Where the visions of old Flutter in, There she sets in the gloom, She, the Cause of it all, In the midst of her gold An’ her sin. If you go to the lake An’ you follow the road As it turns to the west Of the mill Till you come to a stake A surveyor has throwed Like a knife in the breast Of the hill, An’ you follow the track Till you come to a blaze By the side of the same In a limb, You will light on the shack, In the timber a ways, Of a party whose name It is Jim.