Page:Pieces People Ask For.djvu/18

8 THE DRIVER OF NINETY-THREE.


 * Very weary and worn was he,

As he dragged himself to his little home;
 * Long, long hours from year to year,
 * Never a day for rest, no cheer,

In the woods or meadows in joy to roam.


 * All day through in tiresome round,
 * Wages scanty, and prospects bound

In a treadmill life from sun to sun,
 * Facing the winter's cold and sleet,
 * Facing the summer's burning heat,

With little to hope and little won.


 * The clothing was poor of "Ninety-three,"
 * And poor as well for the family;

But the wife was patient with gentle grace.
 * "I've watched all day by the baby's bed;
 * "I think he is going, John," she said,

With an anxious look on her pallid face.
 * He gazed with pride on his baby boy.
 * "He is handsome, wife!" and a look of joy

Just for a moment dried the tears.
 * "How does he look in the glad daylight?
 * I have never seen him, except at night;"

And he sighed as he thought of the weary years.


 * Labor the blessing of life should be,
 * But it seemed like a curse to "Ninety-three,"

For twice too long were the toiling hours;
 * Never the time to improve the mind,
 * Or joy in his little ones to find:

Grasping and thoughtless are human powers.


 * All night long did the driver stay
 * By the beautiful child, then stole away,

Hoping, still hoping that God would save;
 * But when the sun in the heavens rose high,
 * The time had come for the baby to die,

And the mother had only an open grave.