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Bret Harte

Bret Harte

In The Tunnel

Didn’t know Flynn,—
Flynn of Virginia,—
Long as he’s been ‘yar?
Look ’ee here, stranger,
Whar HEV you been?
 
Here in this tunnel
He was my pardner,
That same Tom Flynn,—
Working together,
In wind and weather,
Day out and in.
 
Didn’t know Flynn!
Well, that IS queer;
Why, it’s a sin
To think of Tom Flynn,—
Tom with his cheer,
Tom without fear,—
Stranger, look ‘yar!
 
Thar in the drift,
Back to the wall,
He held the timbers
Ready to fall;
Then in the darkness
I heard him call:
’Run for your life, Jake!
Run for your wife’s sake!
Don’t wait for me.’
And that was all
Heard in the din,
Heard of Tom Flynn,—
Flynn of Virginia.
 
That’s all about
Flynn of Virginia.
That lets me out.
Here in the damp,—
Out of the sun,—
That 'ar derned lamp
Makes my eyes run.
Well, there,—I’m done!
 
But, sir, when you’ll
Hear the next fool
Asking of Flynn,—
Flynn of Virginia,—
Just you chip in,
Say you knew Flynn;
Say that you’ve been 'yar.

#Americans

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This is the reed the dead musician… With tuneful magic in its sheath s… The prompt allegro of its music st… Its melodies unbidden. But who shall finish the unfinishe…
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San Francisco [ From The Sea]

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Dolly Varden

Dear Dolly! who does not recall The thrilling page that pictured a… Those charms that held our sense i… Just as the artist caught her,— As down that English lane she tri…
St. Thomas

(A GEOGRAPHICAL SURVEY, 1… Very fair and full of promise Lay the island of St. Thomas: Ocean o’er its reefs and bars Hid its elemental scars;
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(MOUTH OF THE SHAFT) What I want is my husband, sir,— And if you’re a man, sir, You’ll give me an answer,— Where is my Joe?
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(SIERRAS) We checked our pace, the red road… We heard the troubled flow Of the dark olive depths of pines… A thousand feet below.
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