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Show Jesse Stuart, Kentucky Pcet, Writes of Magic and Romantic World of Childhood. Sun in the sky. The oak-stained autumn sky. Wind in the sassafras sprouts. The great skies that sweep over the W-Hollow and the stream sings a song: "It was when you were young here that the hollow looked like a fairyland to you. It was the scene of your childhood. You can remember the martins around the boxes in early spring fighting the English sparrows. You remember Uncle Mel used to throw clods out of the garden at the sparrows spar-rows and try to run them out for the martins. You remember the bee stands under the plum trees and the bees working on the white plum blossoms! "You remember the flags by the W-Branch in white, purple and yellow yel-low blossoms and the bees working on them. You remember the smell of the hot young corn in the little bottoms and you remember the watermelon patch and the creek where you left your clothes when you went in swimming by the sycamore. syca-more. "You owned the hills then all of the W-Hollow but you didn't have a deed for those wooded acres with its millions of wild tlowerc and its foxes, rabbits, squirrels, turtles and terrapins. It was a heaven here to you. The sun came over the timbered tim-bered hills in the morning ran down a blue pathless sky and dragged a patch of red in the long summer evenings over the green chestnut trees on the ridge. "You remember it was heaven to you, a paradise of earth where there was poetry on the ground, the nodding nod-ding flowers, the green hair of April! It was a heaven of childhood with the log shack and tumbling barns and cornfields. But time came by and stole that far-away fairyland from you!" Jesse Stuart, Kentucky Poet of W-Hollow, in the Southern Literary Messenger. |