Our Getaway

by Robert Frost
Sarcastic Science she would like to know
In her complacent ministry of fear
How we propose to get away from here
When she has made things so we have to go
Or be wiped out: and to what better show
By whose space-rocket we expect to steer
A distance of not less than one light year
Through temperature of absolute zero.
Why wait for Science to supply the how
When any amateur can tell it now?
The way to go awa should be the same
As fifty million years ago we came
If anyone remembers how that was.
I have a theory but it hardly does.

The November 1946 Troubadour was a special issue devoted entirely to Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Robert Frost. The collector’s edition includes a brief biographical sketch of Frost, memories of Frost by friends, and recollections of the poet’s travels throughout the state. Also featured is a remembrance of Frost’s life on his family farm in Derry, NH, and his time teaching English at Pinkerton Academy and the New Hampshire Normal School (now Plymouth State University). In addition, the issue includes several poems by Frost, including the previously unpublished “Our Getaway,” seen above.

(The NH Troubadour, November 1937)

Hiking Song

by Hooper R. Goodwin

Oh, we’ve got our hiking shoes on
And our packs are loaded up,
And we’re headin’ for the mountains—
Have you brought a drinkin’ cup?
So it’s “Washington and Jefferson,
And down through King’s Ravine,”
And we’ll sit around next winter’s fire
And talk of all we’ve seen.
Oh, we’ve started up the flivver
And we’re rattlin’ on our way,
And we’ll hit the trail by sunrise—
Ever climb Chocorua?
So it’s “Tuckerman’s or Huntington’s?”
And “Watch for fallin’ stones!”
And we’ll sleep on Madison tonight
And rest our tired bones.
Oh, we’re homeward bound again boys,
But we’ve had a corkin’ time,
And we’ve seen a lot of scen’ry—
Would you rather ride than climb?
So it’s “home again, and home again!”
And “Boy, it’s good to ride!”
But we’ll tackle it again next year
You bet your bloomin’ hide!

(The NH Troubadour, December 1943)

I’VE BOUGHT A PIECE OF NEW HAMPSHIRE

by Alfred V. Jules

Are you one of the many who spend fifty weeks of the year waiting for that all too brief vacation in old New Hampshire? If you are, and I have been too for the last twenty-five years, let me suggest that you do as I did, buy a piece of the grandest state in the Union. Though my physical self resides in Massachusetts forty-nine weeks of the year my heart is ninety-four miles north.

It took three weekends, a rowboat, a map, Donald Tuttle of the N.H. Planning and Development Commission and Shepard Brown of Meredith Neck to get my hands on the place I wanted. In case you want to know where Winnipesaukee’s greatest booster is located you’ll find me on Bear Island, three hundred yards from Cattle Landing. Come Spring there’ll be a sign in front of a cream colored cottage that will indicate, as far as I’m concerned, that I’ve made a HAPPY LANDING!

(The NH Troubadour, November 1949)

My Tree

by Clara Harrison Town

For weeks my tree’s most gracious limbs were bare.

Its leaves swift changed to yellow, birds had flown.

And then one night—a feathery snow was blown

To Earth. It found my tree and rested there.

The blue of morning found my tree aglow

Its loving arms embracing clinging snow.

(The NH Troubadour, December 1939)

We are indebted to Oliver W. Marvin of New Castle for this one: an attempt was being made to rush a vote through town meeting in one of the small New England towns. One voter objected. The moderator demanded to know whether hew was a voter in the town. He said he was. How long had he been in the town? Was he a year-round resident or a summer resident? He said that he was a year-round resident and had been there for seventeen years. “Sit down,” yelled the moderator. “We don’t propose to have no tourist telling us what we are going to do in this town.”