Then let our banners be unfurled,
’Mid scorn or ’mid applause;
We dare proclaim to all the world
We love the temperance cause!
“I’m at work upon the railroad”—
So the brother’s letter ran,—
“I’m at work upon the railroad,
With the wages of a man.
“I am up at peep of morning,
And I only stop to eat;
But I bear it all extremely well
Except the noon-day heat.
“I do not feel much homesick,
Though I think of other scenes,
And what you have for dinner
When I eat my pork and beans!
“’Tis the time for pies and dumplings,
Currant jelly and all that,
For an hour in mother’s pantry
I’d give my bran-new hat.
“You wrote about the chickens,
About the crops and hay;
But not a word about the colts—
The black one or the gray.
“Tell father not to worry
About that note at all:
I shall have a hundred dollars
I can send him in the fall.
“You cannot think how proudly
It makes my bosom swell,
To think that I am toiling
For those I love so well.
“Tell mother I remember
Her parting words to me;
And all that she has prayed for
I hope I yet may be.
“The workmen bring the bottle,
They say, ‘Just take a sip;’
But, mother, not a single drop
Shall ever touch my lip.
“Here’s a kiss for brother Charley—
The little roguish elf,
I hope he’ll not forget me,—
And another for yourself.
“How much I want to see you
I will not try to tell;
I never knew I loved my home
And all my friends so well!
“My lamp is burning dimly,
So, sister dear, good-night;
Think often of your brother,
And don’t forget to write.”
The sister read the letter
With a look of pride and joy;
And the father and the mother said,
“God bless the darling boy!”
[Whether the following is a real or a supposed case
we know that in this fallen world of ours there have
been many sadder scenes than the one depicted; for
“who hath woe? who hath sorrow? who hath contentions?
who hath babbling? Who hath wounds without cause?
who hath redness of eyes? They that tarry long
at the wine; they that go to seek mixed wine....
At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth
like an adder.”—Prov. 23: 29-35.]
All day the snow came silently to earth,
Until the branches of the apple trees
Bent lower than in autumn ’neath their weight
Of glossy fruit: the youthful pines that stood,
With leafless beech and maple interspersed,
To speak of summer when all else that laughed
In balmy air with summer should depart,
Were robed in white, save where some little twig
Of deepest verdure timidly looked forth,
Like gentle Spring reclining in the arms
Of stern old Winter. Silence reigned abroad;
There was no sun, no sky, but over all
A dense dark mist which hid the blue beyond.
