Here you will find the Long Poem Noey's Night-Piece of poet James Whitcomb Riley
'They ain't much 'tale' about it!' Noey said.-- 'K'tawby grapes wuz gittin' good-n-red I rickollect; and Tubb Kingry and me 'Ud kindo' browse round town, daytime, to see What neighbers 'peared to have the most to spare 'At wuz git-at-able and no dog there When we come round to git 'em, say 'bout ten O'clock at night when mostly old folks then Wuz snorin' at each other like they yit Helt some old grudge 'at never slep' a bit. Well, at the _Pars'nige_--ef ye'll call to mind,-- They's 'bout the biggest grape-arber you'll find 'Most anywheres.--And mostly there, we knowed They wuz _k'tawbies_ thick as ever growed-- And more'n they'd _p'serve_.--Besides I've heerd Ma say k'tawby-grape-p'serves jes 'peared A waste o' sugar, anyhow!--And so My conscience stayed outside and lem me go With Tubb, one night, the back-way, clean up through That long black arber to the end next to The house, where the k'tawbies, don't you know, Wuz thickest. And t'uz lucky we went _slow_,-- Fer jest as we wuz cropin' tords the gray- End, like, of the old arber--heerd Tubb say In a skeered whisper, 'Hold up! They's some one Jes slippin' in here!--and _looks like a gun_ He's carryin'!' I _golly!_ we both spread Out flat aginst the ground! ''What's that?' Tubb said.-- And jest then--'_plink! plunk! plink!_' we heerd something Under the back-porch-winder.--Then, i jing! Of course we rickollected 'bout the young School-mam 'at wuz a-boardin' there, and sung, And played on the melodium in the choir.-- And she 'uz 'bout as purty to admire As any girl in town!--the fac's is, she Jest _wuz_, them times, to a dead certainty, The belle o' this-here bailywick!--But--Well,-- I'd best git back to what I'm tryin' to tell:-- It wuz some feller come to serenade Miss Wetherell: And there he plunked and played His old guitar, and sung, and kep' his eye Set on her winder, blacker'n the sky!-- And black it _stayed_.--But mayby she wuz 'way From home, er wore out--bein' _Saturday!_ 'It _seemed_ a good-'eal _longer_, but I _know_ He sung and plunked there half a' hour er so Afore, it 'peared like, he could ever git His own free qualified consents to quit And go off 'bout his business. When he went I bet you could a-bought him fer a cent! 'And now, behold ye all!--as Tubb and me Wuz 'bout to raise up,--right in front we see A feller slippin' out the arber, square Smack under that-air little winder where The _other_ feller had been standin'.--And The thing he wuz a-carryin' in his hand Wuzn't no _gun_ at all!--It wuz a _flute_,-- And _whoop-ee!_ how it did git up and toot And chirp and warble, tel a mockin'-bird 'Ud dast to never let hisse'f be heerd Ferever, after sich miracalous, high Jim-cracks and grand skyrootics played there by Yer Cousin Rufus!--Yes-sir; it wuz him!-- And what's more,--all a-suddent that-air dim Dark winder o' Miss Wetherell's wuz lit Up like a' oyshture-sign, and under it We see him sort o' wet his lips and smile Down 'long his row o' dancin' fingers, while He kindo' stiffened up and kinked his breath And everlastin'ly jest blowed the peth Out o' that-air old one-keyed flute o' his. And, bless their hearts, that's all the 'tale' they is!' And even as Noey closed, all radiantly The unconscious hero of the history, Returning, met a perfect driving storm Of welcome--a reception strangely warm And _unaccountable_, to _him_, although Most _gratifying_,--and he told them so. 'I only urge,' he said, 'my right to be Enlightened.' And a voice said: '_Certainly:_-- During your absence we agreed that you Should tell us all a story, old or new, Just in the immediate happy frame of mind We knew you would return in.' So, resigned, The ready flutist tossed his hat aside-- Glanced at the children, smiled, and thus complied.