Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1884-03-21
TIE sHoRe Re1RLs SUNDAY REST

THE SHOP. GIRLS SUNDAY REST
scrNr-A small attic containinga a narrow cot
CHAIR. table, ana u fcw articles OF nccos
sity. TiME-Ncar midnight Enter n CIR
poorly clad, wan and staggering will
fatigue.
AT last I'm home. and OH so tired, tired, tirct
TO very deathl
Its work, work. work. till one has neither
strength nor oven breath.
But this is Saturday, and here's my little pcaoc
Where can have, all by myself, a good Ions
Sunday rest.
All through tho week I've counted counted OF
this precious hour;
That thought alone has kept me up alone gave
To finish all tho weary work, to 1.-Two through
days oppressed,
30 tired, so tired, and longing, praying for {
Sunday rest
Here is my candle: there's my little bod, sc
sweet and nice
You're dear to mo- you little cot, lust now
above nll price: =
And once when I'm In bod I'll sleep, and sleeI
with happy zest,
Tor am tired so tired and want n long, long
Sunday rest.
ought to eat, no doubt, but I'm not hungry
in the lenst,
And couldn't eat If 1 were seated at rich
mans feast;
But let me make q cup of tea-that may pcr
haps be best-
And yet / only care for rest, for one long Sun
day rest.
All day I'll sleep; to-morrow's sun shall nevor
mako me rise;
I'll peep ut him between the shades as he as
cends the skies;
But here I'll eep and dream as he goes on
from east to west,
For have wept and wept, for one long quiet
Sunday rest
III light my spirit-lamp and heat the water fol-
some tea;
Here's sugar ,lnd little milk. How very nice
do declare that, after all. I'm very, very
blest,
For shall not bo happy when have my Sun.
Make haste and heat, good water. Waiting is
sleep almost while you are heating, SO heavy
Is my head;
Yes. good is tea, and good are many things;
but best-oh, best
OF all tho world for mes long, delightful
Sunday rest.
The light is out, and here am I upon my
then tiutter SO?
Tn weak; but III be strong on Monday, when
I'm up and dressed,
For then shall have had my precious, precious
Sunday rest
And is f, It mornP fS All yes for there's the sun
And OH it makes my heart so glad that I'm
allowed to lie:
For It is Sunday, Sunday true, and have got
Here can stay, and have my long, delicious
Sunday rest.
i dreamed was a child again. and Mt the dear
So sweet, SO calm. where wickedness came not.
ner any harm;
Oh. motherl mother, let me lie once more
upon your breast,
For there alone my heart can find a perfect
Sunday rest.
wonder what they're doing now, dear mother,
father, Jack.
must give up the shop, and, soon as am
for there, though we were poor, in peace and
love we yet were blest,
And all our days werc like q blissful Sunday
rest
can not well make out-there's such a ring
- ing in my earl
How faint am! Those sounds, those pleasan,
soundsl Is some one near2
On no: only dream. In attics no one comes
as guest.
I'm quite alone. No friend or foe will break
my Sunday rest.
hear my little sister Betsie's voIce-but she
Yes, yes, l see her now; she smooths nv nil
low. soothes my bead Pa
can not breathe. What is IL weighs so hoov,
on my breast?
Oh, come dear Betsie, lie with me- and take
your Sunday rest.
How strange 1t is! How dark and cold! AL
me! nm SO weak.
oh, where is mother where is Betsie? Some
one-some one speak,
oh yes, will be up-oh, speak--on Monday
up and dressed
can't do not see-who calls?-I come-m,
-Sunday-rest!
a moan, quickened BREATH and there. upor
the pillow hushed
ehe iay. 30 wan; and yet so fair, but like
flower crushed;
And on her bosom lay her thin white hands
together pressed
And marble cold. She'd found an eyerIa stip,
Sunday rest.
%. b. Bunce, in Harpcrs Bazaar.