Poetry Explorer


Classic and Contemporary Poetry


DOW'S FLAT by FRANCIS BRET HARTE

Poet Analysis

First Line: DOW'S FLAT. THAT'S ITS NAME
Last Line: ASK AFTER DOW, -- AND THET'S ME.

DOW'S FLAT. That's its name.
And I reckon that you
Are a stranger? The same?
Well, I thought it was true,
For thar isn't a man on the river as can't spot
the place at first view

It was called after Dow, --
Which the same was an ass;
And as to the how
Thet the thing kern to pass, --
Just tie up your hoss to that buckeye, and sit ye
down here in the grass.

You see this yer Dow
Hed the worst kind of luck;
He slipped up somehow
On each thing thet he struck.
Why, ef he'd straddled thet fence-rail the derned
thing 'ed get up and buck.

He mined on the bar
Till he couldn't pay rates;
He was smashed by a car
When he tunnelled with Bates;
And right on top of his trouble kem his wife and
five kids from the States.

It was rough, -- mighty-rough;
But the boys they stood by,
And they brought him the stuff
For a house, on the sly;
And the old woman, -- well, she did washing, and
took on when no one was nigh.

But this yer luck of Dow's
Was so powerful mean
That the spring near his house
Dried right up on the green;
And he sunk forty feet down for water, but nary
a drop to be seen.

Then the bar petered out,
And the boys wouldn't stay;
And the chills got about,
And his wife fell away;
But Dow, in his well, kept a peggin' in his usual
ridikilous way.

One day, -- it was June, --
And a year ago, jest, --
This Dow kem at noon
To his work like the rest,
With a shovel and pick on his shoulder, and a
derringer hid in his breast.

He goes to the well,
And he stands on the brink,
And stops for a spell
Jest to listen and think:
For the sun in his eyes, (jest like this, sir!) you
see, kinder made the cuss blink.

His two ragged gals
In the gulch were at play,
And a gownd that was Sal's
Kinder flapped on a bay:
Not much for a man to be leavin', but his all, --
as I've heer'd the folks say.

And -- that's a peart hoss
Thet you've got -- ain't it now?
What might be her cost?
Eh? Oh! -- Well then, Dow --
Let's see, -- well, that forty-foot grave wasn't his,
sir, that day, anyhow.

For a blow of his pick
Sorter cared in the side,
And he looked and turned sick,
Then he trembled and cried.
For you see the dern cuss had struck -- "Water?"
-- beg your parding, young man, there
you lied!

It was gold, -- in the quartz,
And it ran all alike;
And I reckon five oughts
Was the worth of that strike;
And that house with coopilow's his'n, -- which
the same isn't bad for a Pike.

Thet's why it's Dow's Flat;
And the thing of it is
That he kinder got that
Through sheer contrairiness:
For 't was water the derned cuss was seekin', and
his luck made him certain to miss.

Thet's so. Thar 's your way
To the left of yon tree;
But -- a -- look h'yur, say,
Won't you come up to tea?
No? Well, then the next time you're passin'; and
ask after Dow, -- and thet's me.



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