I am Glum.
Glum I am.
That Glum-I-Am! That Glum-I-Am! I do not trust that Glum-I-Am!
“Do you like my new hue from the stars?” said the Glum.
“I do not like it, Glum-I-Am. I do not like your hue one bit. It is no color I can name. No crayon box has heard of it.”
“Would you like it on your well? Would you like it in your dell?”
“I would not like it on my well. I would not like it in my dell. It hums at night. It has a smell. It is a color, yet a sound. Please take your hue and leave my ground.”
“Would you like it in your corn? It makes the corn grow big by morn! Big and gray and plump and tall! The biggest corn you ever saw!”
“The corn is big, I will admit. But Glum-I-Am, I’ve tasted it. It tastes of nothing. Nothing at all. Like eating fog. Like chewing wall. I do not want it in my corn. I wish your hue had not been born.”
“Would you like it in the trees? They sway now when there is no breeze! They sway and reach! They reach and sway! They wave at things that are far away!”
“I do not like my waving trees. Trees should only wave in breeze. I do not like it in my well, my dell, my corn, my trees, my smell. Go away now. Fare thee well.”
“Would you like it in the cows?”
“…What did you do to my cows?”
“Come and see them! Come and see! They glow a little! Just like me! They crumble gently! Gray and dry! They do not moo. They do not cry. They simply sit and watch the sky.”
“I DO NOT LIKE IT, GLUM-I-AM. Not in my well! Not in my dell! Not in my corn or trees or smell! Not in my cows that watch the sky! Not in the water! Not nearby! Not in the garden! Not the barn! GET YOUR HUE OFF GARDNER FARM!”
But the Glum just glowed its nameless glow, The glow that pulsed both fast and slow, And said, “Dear friend, you’re rather late. The hue does not negotiate. It’s in the well. It’s in the dell. It’s in the water. Can’t you tell?
“You drank it Monday. Tuesday too. The hue is not on things.
It’s you.“
And now I sit and watch the sky. I do not moo. I do not cry. My hands have gone a little gray. The trees and I, we sway and sway.
And when the next star-stone falls down On some fresh farm near some fresh town, And someone shouts, “I will not try it! I do not want it! I won’t buy it!”
The hue will hum. The hue will wait. The hue is patient.
Hues don’t hate.
They only spread.
And glow.
And wait.
THE END
The well still hums. Do not drink from the well.
