THE
STRANGER
As
I was walking through a wood, one cool September day,
I
chanced to see a stranger standing jaunty, in my way.
There
wasn't much about him to remark about, I guess--
Unless
it might be possibly the matter of his dress.
I
couldn't help from noticing the jacket he had on,
For
glory be! 'Twas greener than McGillicuddy's lawn!
Except
for that, there wasn't much to stretch a pair of eyes--
Unless
I should be mentioning the matter of his size!
It's
really rather seldom you'll be meeting on your walks,
A
bit of man who measures seven inches in his socks.
I
looked at him and looked at him and kinda thought it over,
While
he stared back, his little head just level with the clover.
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"You're
not a native of the town!" I presently decided.
"No,
that I'm not!" the little man quite cheerfully confided.
"Well
then," I went on thoughtful-like, as sharp I looked him through,
"I'm
thinking you're a stranger, here." Said he: "I think so, too!"
Said
I: "Could be that you're a man who's kinda shrunk a little!"
"It
could be now!" he answered me, a trifle noncommittal.
Then,
standing up all fine and straight, he faced me like a hero.
(The
brash of him whose size was little more than two times zero!)
Then
sweeping off his tiny cap, he said with quite a bow
"Good
luck to you, long life to you--and I'll be leaving now!"
With
that, the little fellow went. 'Twas queer, I do declare!
He
didn't walk away from me. He simply wasn't there!
Well,
as I wandered homeward with the sunlight in my eyes,
I
talked it over with myself. (Myself is wondrous wise!)
Said
I: "He was a pipe dream! Aye! He surely was the type!"
"Fiddlesticks!"
Myself replied. "You've never owned a pipe!"
And
thinkin' of the matter, very sober in the dawn,
The
both of us decided I had met a leprechaun!
by Ernestine Cobern Beyer
Poetry with a Purpose Good Apple, 1987
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