_A Voice From the Interior of Old Hoop-Pole Township_ <br /> <br /> <br />Friend of my earliest youth, <br />Can't you arrange to come down <br />And visit a fellow out here in the woods-- <br />Out of the dust of the town? <br />Can't you forget you're a Judge <br />And put by your dolorous frown <br />And tan your wan face in the smile of a friend-- <br />Can't you arrange to come down? <br /> <br />Can't you forget for a while <br />The arguments prosy and drear,-- <br />To lean at full-length in indefinite rest <br />In the lap of the greenery here? <br />Can't you kick over 'the Bench,' <br />And 'husk' yourself out of your gown <br />To dangle your legs where the fishing is good-- <br />Can't you arrange to come down? <br /> <br />Bah! for your office of State! <br />And bah! for its technical lore! <br />What does our President, high in his chair, <br />But wish himself low as before! <br />Pick between peasant and king,-- <br />Poke your bald head through a crown <br />Or shadow it here with the laurels of Spring!-- <br />Can't you arrange to come down? <br /> <br />'Judge it' out _here_, if you will,-- <br />The birds are in session by dawn; <br />You can draw, not _complaints_, but a sketch of the hill <br />And a breath that your betters have drawn; <br />You can open your heart, like a case, <br />To a jury of kine, white and brown, <br />And their verdict of 'Moo' will just satisfy you!-- <br />Can't you arrange to come down? <br /> <br />Can't you arrange it, old Pard?-- <br />Pigeonhole Blackstone and Kent!-- <br />Here we have 'Breitmann,' and Ward, <br />Twain, Burdette, Nye, and content! <br />Can't you forget you're a Judge <br />And put by your dolorous frown <br />And tan your wan face in the smile of a friend-- <br />Can't you arrange to come down?<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-judge/
