Rubáiyát of Doc Sifers

Riley James Whitcomb

Rubáiyát of Doc Sifers

We found him in that far-away that yet to us seems near —We vagrants of but yesterday when idlest youth was here, —When lightest song and laziest mirth possessed us through and through,And all the dreamy summer-earth seemed drugged with morning dew:When our ambition scarce had shot a stalk or blade indeed:Yours, – choked as in the garden-spot you still deferred to "weed":Mine, – but a pipe half-cleared of pith – as now it flats and whinesIn sympathetic cadence with a hiccough in the lines.Aye, even then – o timely hour! – the high gods did conferIn our behalf: – and, clothed in power, lo, came their courier —Not winged with flame nor shod with wind, – but ambling down the pike,Horseback, with saddlebags behind, and guise all human-like.And it was given us to see, beneath his rustic rind,A native force and mastery of such inspiring kind,That half unconsciously we made obeisance. – smiling, thusHis soul shone from his eyes and laid its glory over us.· · · · · ·Though, faring still that far-away that yet to us seems near,His form, through mists of yesterday, fades from the vision here,Forever as he rides, it is in retinue divine, —The hearts of all his time are his, with your hale heart and mine.

I

Ef you don't know Doc Sifers I'll jes argy, here and now,You've bin a mighty little while about here, anyhow!'Cause Doc he's rid these roads and woods – er swum 'em, now and then —And practised in this neighberhood sence hain't no tellin' when!

II

In radius o' fifteen mile'd, all p'ints o' compass round,No man er woman, chick er child, er team, on top o' ground,But knows him– yes, and got respects and likin' fer him, too,Fer all his so-to-speak dee-fects o' genius showin' through!

III

Some claims he's absent-minded; some has said they wuz afeardTo take his powders when he come and dosed 'em out, and 'pearedTo have his mind on somepin' else – like County Ditch, er someNew way o' tannin' mussrat-pelts, er makin' butter come.

IV

He's cur'ous – they hain't no mistake about it! – but he's gotEnough o' extry brains to make a jury– like as not.They's no describin' Sifers, – fer, when all is said and done,He's jes hisse'f Doc Sifers– ner they hain't no other one!

V

Doc's allus sociable, polite, and 'greeable, you'll find —Pervidin' ef you strike him right and nothin' on his mind, —Like in some hurry, when they've sent fer Sifers quick, you see,To 'tend some sawmill-accident, er picnic jamboree;

VI

Er when the lightnin' 's struck some hare-brained harvest-hand; er inSome 'tempt o' suicidin' – where they'd ort to try ag'in!I've knowed Doc haul up from a trot and talk a' hour er twoWhen railly he'd a-ort o' not a-stopped fer "Howdy-do!"

VII

And then, I've met him 'long the road, a-lopin', – starin' straightAhead, – and yit he never knowed me when I hollered "Yate,Old Saddlebags!" all hearty-like, er "Who you goin' to kill?"And he'd say nothin' – only hike on faster, starin' still!

VIII

I'd bin insulted, many a time, ef I jes wuzn't shoreDoc didn't mean a thing. And I'm not tetchy any moreSence that-air day, ef he'd a-jes a-stopped to jaw with me,They'd bin a little dorter less in my own fambily!

IX

Times now, at home, when Sifers' name comes up, I jes let on,You know, 'at I think Doc's to blame, the way he's bin and goneAnd disapp'inted folks – 'Ll-jee-mun-nee! you'd ort to thenJes hear my wife light into me – "ongratefulest o' men!"

X

'Mongst all the women – mild er rough, splendifferous er plain,Er them with sense, er not enough to come in out the rain, —Jes ever' shape and build and style o' women, fat er slim —They all like Doc, and got a smile and pleasant word fer him!

XI

Ner hain't no horse I've ever saw but what'll neigh and tryTo sidle up to him, and paw, and sense him, ear-and-eye:Then jes a tetch o' Doc's old pa'm, to pat 'em, er to shoveAlong their nose – and they're as ca'm as any cooin' dove!

XII

And same with dogs, – take any breed, er strain, er pedigree,Er racial caste 'at can't concede no use fer you er me, —They'll putt all predju-dice aside in Doc's case and go inKahoots with him, as satisfied as he wuz kith-and-kin!

XIII

And Doc's a wonder, trainin' pets! – He's got a chicken-hawk,In kind o' half-cage, where he sets out in the gyarden-walk,And got that wild bird trained so tame, he'll loose him, and he'll flyClean to the woods! – Doc calls his name – and he'll come, by-and-by!

XIV

Some says no money down ud buy that bird o' Doc. – Ner noInducement to the bird, says I, 'at he'd let Sifers go!And Doc he say 'at he's content – long as a bird o' preyKin 'bide him, it's a compliment, and takes it thataway.

XV

But, gittin' back to docterin'– all the sick and in distress,And old and pore, and weak and small, and lone and motherless, —I jes tell you I 'preciate the man 'at 's got the loveTo "go ye forth and ministrate!" as Scriptur' tells us of.

XVI

Dull times, Doc jes mianders round, in that old rig o' his:And hain't no tellin' where he's bound ner guessin' where he is;He'll drive, they tell, jes thataway fer maybe six er eightDays at a stretch; and neighbers say he's bin clean round the State.

XVII

He picked a' old tramp up, one trip, 'bout eighty mile'd from here,And fetched him home and k-yored his hip, and kep' him 'bout a year;And feller said – in all his ja'nts round this terreschul ball'At no man wuz a circumstance to Doc! – he topped 'em all! —

XVIII

Said, bark o' trees 's a' open book to Doc, and vines and mossHe read like writin' – with a look knowed ever' dot and cross:Said, stars at night wuz jes as good 's a compass: said, he s'poseYou couldn't lose Doc in the woods the darkest night that blows!

XIX

Said, Doc'll tell you, purty clos't, by underbresh and plants,How fur off warter is, – and 'most perdict the sort o' chanceYou'll have o' findin' fish; and how they're liable to bite,And whether they're a-bitin' now, er only after night.

XX

And, whilse we're talkin' fish, – I mind they formed a fishin'-crowd(When folks could fish 'thout gittin' fined, and seinin' wuz allowed!)O' leadin' citizens, you know, to go and seine "Old Blue" —But hadn't no big seine, and so – w'y, what wuz they to do?..

XXI

And Doc he say he thought 'at he could knit a stitch er two —"Bring the materials to me – 'at's all I'm astin' you!"And down he sets – six weeks, i jing! and knits that seine plum done —Made corks too, brails and ever'thing – good as a boughten one!

XXII

Doc's public sperit – when the sick 's not takin' all his timeAnd he's got some fer politics – is simple yit sublime: —He'll talk his principles– and they air honest; – but the slyFriend strikes him first, election-day, he'd 'commodate, er die!

XXIII

And yit, though Doc, as all men knows, is square straight up and down,That vote o' his is – well, I s'pose – the cheapest one in town; —A fact 'at's sad to verify, as could be done on oath —I've voted Doc myse'f —And I was criminal fer both!

XXIV

You kin corrupt the ballot-box– corrupt yourse'f, as well —Corrupt some neighbers, – but old Doc's as oncorruptibleAs Holy Writ. So putt a pin right there! – Let Sifers be,I jucks! he wouldn't vote agin his own worst inimy!

XXV

When Cynthy Eubanks laid so low with fever, and Doc Glenn

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