From the Mountain, From the Valley

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From the Mountain, From the Valley Page 11

by James Still


  “Post Offices.” Way Down Yonder on Troublesome Creek.

  “Rain on the Cumberlands.” Kaleidograph 8, no. 6 (Oct. 1936): 9; Hounds on the Mountain; Wolfpen Poems.

  “Reckoning” [“Mountain Twilight”]. Sewanee Review 43, no. 4 (Oct.-Dec. 1935): 435.

  “River of Earth.” Mountain Life and Work 13, no. 1 (Apr. 1937): 9; River of Earth; Appalachian Heritage 13, no. 3 (summer 1985): 7; Wolfpen Poems.

  “Shield of Hills” [also published as part of a larger poem, “Death on the Mountain”; that poem included all of this volume’s version of “Death on the Mountain” and part of “Yesteryear’s People”]. Mountain Life and Work 11, no. 4 (Jan. 1936): 15; Hounds on the Mountain; Wolfpen Poems.

  “Spring” [“Spring on Troublesome Creek”]. New Republic 90, no. 1165 (31 Mar. 1937): 237; Scholastic 31, no. 27 (18 Sep. 1937); Hounds on the Mountain; Wolfpen Poems.

  “This Man Dying” [“Death of an Old Man”]. The Lyric 18, no. 4 (winter 1939): 183; Fantasy 7, no. 1 (1941): 20.

  “Those I Want in Heaven with Me Should There Be Such a Place.” Appalachian Journal 18, no. 2 (winter 1991): 222.

  “Tracks on Stone.” Household Magazine 36, no. 7 (Jul. 1936): 25.

  “Trees in the Road, The.” Appalachian Review 2, no. 2 (winter 1968): 5; River of Earth; Wolfpen Poems.

  “Truck Driver.” Appalachian Heritage 18, no. 3 (summer 1990): 9.

  “Uncle Ambrose” [“Mountain Men: (1) Uncle Ambrose, (2) Clabe Mott”]. Kaleidograph 7, no. 9 (Jan. 1936): 13; Hounds on the Mountain; Brewton, America Forever New; Wolfpen Poems.

  “Unemployed Coal Miner” [“Unemployed Coal Miners”]. Kentucky Poetry Review 21, no. 1 (spring/summer 1985): 29; Appalachian Heritage 16, no. 2 and 3 (summer 1988): 13.

  “Visitor.” Wind 10, no. 38 (1980): 70.

  “Welcome, Somewhat, Despite the Disorder.” Confrontations 1, no. 2 (spring-summer 1977): 1; Kentucky Philological Review 13 (1998): 40.

  “What Have You Heard Lately?” New Letters 51, no. 2 (winter 1984-85): 38.

  “When the Dulcimers Are Gone.” Poetry 47, no. 1 (Oct. 1935): 14; Lexington Leader, 29 Oct. 1936, 12; Louisville Courier-Journal, 27 Oct. 1935, section 3, p. 4; Hounds on the Mountain; Wolfpen Poems; Francisco, The South in Perspective.

  “Where the Mares Have Fed” [“High Pastures”]. Fantasy 5, no. 4 (1937): 16.

  “White Highways.” Publications of the Poetry Society of Florida, Apr. 1936, 3; Scholastic 31, no. 27 (18 Sep.1937); Poetry 50, no. 2 (May 1937): 70; Hounds on the Mountain; Kentucky Alumnus 50, no. 3 (summer 1980): 16-17; Appalachian Heritage 13, no. 3 (summer 1985): 12; Wolfpen Poems.

  “Wilderness.” Kaleidograph 7, no. 5 (Sep. 1935): 8.

  “Winter Tree.” Appalachian Heritage 4, no. 1 (winter 1976): 60; Wolfpen Poems.

  “With Hands Like Leaves.” Kaleidograph 8, no. 12 (Apr. 1937): 4; Hounds on the Mountain; Miami Daily News, 8 Aug. 1937; Louisville Courier-Journal, 27 Jun. 1937, 7; Wolfpen Poems.

  “Wolfpen Creek” [“Beloved Place,” “Littcarr, Kentucky,” “On Wolfpen Creek”]. Saturday Evening Post 227, no. 3 (17 Jul. 1954): 78; Mountain Life and Work 42, no. 2 (summer 1966): 21; Wolfpen Rusties; River of Earth; Appalachian Heritage 13, no. 3 (summer 1985): 18; Wolfpen Poems.

  “Year of the Pigeons.” Hounds on the Mountain; Wolfpen Poems.

  “Yesterday in Belize.” Kentucky Poetry Review 24, no. 2 (fall 1988): 33.

  “Yesteryear’s People” [“Death on Troublesome Creek”; one stanza of this poem was published as part of a larger poem, “Death on the Mountain,” which included all of this volume’s version of “Death on the Mountain” and all of “Shield of Hills”]. Kaleidograph 8, no. 10 (Feb. 1937): 12; Hounds on the Mountain; Wolfpen Poems.

  Index of Titles

  The index that appeared in the print version of this title was intentionally removed from the eBook. Please use the search function on your eReading device for terms of interest. For your reference, the terms that appear in the print index are listed below

  Abandoned House

  After Some Twenty Years Attempting to Describe a Flowering Branch of Redbud

  Aftergrass

  Answer

  Apple Trip

  Apples

  Apples in the Well

  Are You Up There, Bad Jack?

  Artifacts

  Artist

  At Year’s End

  Banjo Bill Cornett

  Bright Road, The

  Broken Ibis, The

  Burned Tree

  Candidate

  Child in the Hills

  Child’s Wisdom, A

  Clabe Mott

  Coal Town

  Come Down from the Hills

  Common Crow, The

  Could It Be

  Court Day

  Dance on Pushback

  Day of Flowers

  Death in the Hills

  Death of a Fox

  Death on the Mountain

  Dove

  Dreams

  Drought

  Dulcimer

  Early Whippoorwill

  Earth-Bread

  Epitaph for Uncle Ira Combs, Mountain Preacher

  Eyes in the Grass

  Fallow Years

  Farm

  Fiddle

  Fiddlers’ Convention on Troublesome Creek

  Foal

  Fox Hunt on Defeated Creek

  Funnel Spider

  Granny Frolic

  Graveyard

  Here and Now

  Here in My Bed

  Heritage

  High Field

  Hill-Born, The

  Hill-Lonely

  Hillsman Speaks, A

  Horse Swapping

  Horseback in the Rain

  Hounds on the Mountain

  Hunter

  I Shall Go Singing

  I Was Born Humble

  In My Dreaming

  Infare

  Interval

  Journey Beyond the Hills

  Knife Trader

  Lambs

  Lamp

  Leap, Minnows, Leap

  Let This Hill Rest

  Lizard

  Madly to Learn

  Man O’ War

  Man Singing to Himself, A

  Mine Is a Wide Estate

  Morning: Dead Mare Branch

  Mountain Fox Hunt

  Mountain Men Are Free

  Mrs. Lloyd, Her Rag Sale

  My Aunt Carrie

  My Days

  Night in the Coal Camps

  Nixie Middleton

  Now Has Day Come

  Of Concern

  Of the Faithful

  Of the Wild Man

  Okra King

  On Being Drafted into the U.S. Army from My Log Home in March 1942

  On Buckhorn Creek

  On Double Creek

  On Redbird Creek

  On the Passing of My Brother Alfred

  On Troublesome Creek

  Passenger Pigeons

  Passing of a County Sheriff

  Pattern for Death

  Post Offices

  Rain on the Cumberlands

  Reckoning

  Recollection

  River of Earth

  Shield of Hills

  Spring

  Swift Were Their Feet

  This Man Dying

  Those I Want in Heaven with Me Should There Be Such a Place

  Tracks on Stone

  Trees in the Road, The

  Truck Driver

  Uncle Ambrose

  Unemployed Coal Miner

  Visitor

  “Welcome, Somewhat, Despite the Disorder”

  What Have You Heard Lately?

  When the Dulcimers Are Gone

  Where the Mares Have Fed

  White Highways

  Wilderness

  Winter Tree

  With Hands Like Leaves

  Wolfpen Creek

  Year of the Pigeons

  Yesterday in Belize
/>   Yesteryear’s People

  Index of First Lines

  The index that appeared in the print version of this title was intentionally removed from the eBook. Please use the search function on your eReading device for terms of interest. For your reference, the terms that appear in the print index are listed below

  A critter breakfasts on slain flies

  A lot goes on behind my back.

  A man’s shadow is a pebble of dark where the hills

  A rusty grackle walks the apple’s bough.

  After the silent and the stalwart go

  After this death it will

  “Along about the time willow leaves were the size

  And here again to the flight of leaves and birds

  Are you up There, Bad Jack?

  Arise from your rope-strung bed, Clabe Mott

  Beefhide, Zilpo, Mouthcard, Stop

  Cold yellow windows to the night, the trees

  Come inside

  Daring to dream of that which cannot be

  Death was their challenge, death the swift ax

  Ewes’ first wool and linsey cloth

  Father of his flock he watched the children grow

  First, I want my dog Jack

  Fox in the thorn-patch . . .

  From Wolfpen’s head to Breeding’s rocky steep

  Has any thought been given to the malevolence of

  He dabbed a blob of paint

  He drank the bright air into his throat

  He killed one hundred and thirty-one squirrels

  He was the sun-bronzed, resolute and free

  Here hangs a trap spun by genius.

  Here in my bed

  Here was a symphony of wings

  His face is quiet as a fable, and his hands

  How it was in that place, how light hung in a bright pool

  How say

  I am a lifeless reminder

  I am alone and all the hills have eyed my sorrow

  I am wealthy with earth and sky

  I had a child’s wisdom of a thick-hilled country.

  I have a letter from Oklahoma—

  I have gone out to the roads that go up and down

  I know where a crow’s nest is hidden.

  I shall not leave these prisoning hills

  I was born humble. At the foot of mountains

  I was born on Double Creek, on a forty-acre hill;

  I went to buy apples at Hurricane Gap

  If the legs of the bird be broken

  In his last days he let the worn earth rest

  In the deep moist hollows, on the burnt acres

  In the night’s dark clover, in the burnt wood shadows

  In the year of the passenger pigeons

  It all depends on how many faces you can wear.

  It has been said in poem, essay, play

  It will take a little while to find him.

  Last night I ran a fox over.

  Last night the telephone rang in my head, in my sleep

  Let this hill rest . . .

  Madly to learn

  Man is not worthy like our Mother Earth.

  More than sixty years ago

  My Aunt Carrie, she tore into the house

  “My name is Mack.

  Need the words unspoken be said here

  No child he had

  Not all of us were warm, not all of us.

  Nothing has moved in this town.

  Now all of earth that fills the valley’s breast

  Now has day come immense upon the hills.

  Now is the world metal

  Now that they’ve set a standard for the apple

  Old Granny haste your bonnet on and hie to Wolfpen Creek

  On Defeated Creek the night flows down the hills

  Our mouths are fresh with morning on the hills

  Proud the smooth head within this April air

  Rein your sorry nags boys, buckle the polished saddle

  Singing he goes, wrapped in a garment of ballads

  Slow the dull fulcrum, slow the arched leanings

  So long on mountains he had looked

  Splintery as legs of spring foals the willows bend

  Staunch Republican was she

  The cliff gave way and the slope shifted ground

  The dulcimer sings from fretted maple throat

  The hounds sleep well. It is not they who stir the fox

  The minnows leap in drying pools.

  The silver light that dances on your strings

  The spider puzzles his legs and rests his web

  The wind-drawn manes

  There is a great moving about on this particular Sunday.

  There is no one in this house.

  There ought to be a law!

  There was a poem here yesterday

  These people here were born for mottled hills

  These stark houses hung upon the hills

  These were your hills, these your foggy coves

  They have come down astride their bony nags

  They have come early into the town.

  They have come with Spring, with the tender leaves

  They were a man’s words, a ballad of an old time

  They who are strong have claimed an earthly peace

  This is the answer to all centuries

  This is the bright road to the mountain top

  Those, those were my days

  Through the stricken air, through the buttonwood balls

  To this man dying speak of death.

  Troublesome Creek is a highway wandering more than natural

  Under stars cool as the copperhead’s eyes

  Under the grackle’s words, under the hard bead

  Until the leaf of my face withers

  Upon proud feet

  Weather and time, time and weather

  What

  What have you heard lately from Sulphur Trestle?

  What shaggy hand can grasp the tread of years

  when

  When a tree shed apples in my well

  When a wild bird, a dove, a mourning dove

  When the buckeye flowers on the stumpy hills

  When the dulcimers are mingled with the dust

  Where on these hills are tracks a small foot made

  Where the mares have fed in high pastures

  Who is this man, “The Okra King”

  With rain in the face

  With swollen tongues of a perishing wilderness

  Yesterday in Belize

  “You call that thing a knife? A pocketknife?

  “You would remember, I believe

  Your hair is growing long, Uncle Ambrose

 

 

 


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