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
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
