Mary Dow Brine (1816-1913)|
Grandpa and His "Dear"
CAN any one say what fun there is
In the thoughtless use of a gun,
Which takes its aim at an innocent life,
And, lo! that life is done?
The merry, happy, warbling birds,
Tho' roguish they may be,
The song they sing is pleasanter far
Than the bang of a gunto me.
"When I was a boy," said Grandpa Gray,
"I thought, 'Now, like a man,
I'll take my gun to the fields, and bag
As many birds as I can.'
"So off I went, and I banged away,
With no thought of the pain I gave,
Till I presently met a sweet young miss
Trying one bird to save.
It had fallen near with a wounded wing,
And the look in her face so sad
Went straight to my heart, and I felt ashamed
Of myself for a heartless lad.
"Well, after that, I never could aim
At an innocent bird again,
ButI took to hunting after the deer
And I did not hunt in vain;
For I've captured one, and I've never ceased
To love and cherish my 'Dear;'
And if you want to see her, boys,
Why, look at your grandmother here."
The above poem can be found, for example, in:
Brine, Mary D. From Gold to Grey. New York: Cassell & Company,