The record-union., 1895-05-18
For the RECoRD-UNIoN.1
THE CARRIERS.

AT morn, before or after eight
In cosy room by cheerful CRATE
A certaln-well known-Voice Is heard
AS sweet as Eve or prophets word
1t blossoms on the morning air
AND echoes here -re-echoes there
Soft breeZes wait the strain along
Thrice welcome this, one noted song
Gods noDlemen, young, strong and hail,
First ring the bell and then sing-"Mai."
Tho sweet the morn, or howls the blast,
And storm clouds gather thick and fast,
And wars the upper deep engage
Deep thunder indicating rage
Curtained and warm and free from care,
We occupy our easy chair,
Thinking of absent ones and loved,
Whose loyalty is dear and proved,
Whose lots are cast in distant climes,
Where comes, as sweet as vesper chimes,
A song that trembleS on the gale,
a doOrbell prelude then the-'Mail."
The Century" rich, crisp and new;
"Ieslie," american Review"
The overland" and Harper" too;
The New York Herald, or the Sun,
Which tell what 'Tammany'' has done;
The RECoRD-UNION'S sparkling page,
To treat the youth and solace age;
And publications many more
Are slipped beneath or through the door.
Six days in seven the live long year,
In misty weather, or In clear,
With pouches, big with news, they sally;
Now on the walk, now in the alley;
On mansion large or cottage small,
Each mum Der find, and kindly call
a guest, as welcome, / believe,
AS 'Sauta Claus" on Xmas eve;
one hand with letters amply stored
AS oeehives are with luscious hoard;
Unlike the rivers onward flow,
They kindly come and quickly 60.
No dryly detailed chronic yarn
"Sez ee," ''sez L. an ''I'll be darn"-
AS prosy as a Tale OF Flanders,
BY Portuguese or POrtuganders,
Sweet brevity the times befit-
1t is, has been, the soul of wit;
The service greeting song is such,
Just song enough, and not too much,
Tho oft repeated, never stale,
a breezy. crispy, splcy-"Mail."
And are we found on social duty,
With men OF science, or maids OF beauty,
Around the board with dainties spread,
Or Satan's "plcture books" instead;
Or drawing, pleading, writ or brief
Ostensibly to give relief
To some poor mother on the morrow,
Which multiplies her only sorrow.
We turn from winecup. pen or tray
W hen'er we lear a Cyrus" say
Hard by the door, the gate, or rail,
To Jones, or Brown, or Johnson-"Mail.'
Peruse the message they reveal;
Delightful measures now they sing,
And now some mourntul tidings bring.
one animateS joyous life,
Another, sorrow, pain or strife.
With tirm direct and honest aim.
The carrier is just the same,
Within the line of duty keeping
If letters bring delight or weeping,
With uniform of azure blue
(And underneath a heart as true),
brass
The buttons carry not the fate
On duty may they never fail
While man receives or issues "Mail."
A cornucopia of news,
With genius formulated views,
IN blank or rhyming dissertations,
On rise and fall of bygone nations,
A tale OF Zen bla, or the Line,
OF Alpine wales, or storied Rhine;
Or Ossian's caves by waters pres't,
Where ferie sleep and jewels rest;
OF Feudal ages castles, towers,
Romance from "Spaniard'S land of flowers
Or phantome barques that ride the wave,
And haunt the timid and the brave
Divine we not, nor reck the boys,
II wealth they bring or idle toys;
With task performed they feel content,
Nor ask by whom or what was sent.
The neWsy casket at his side,
With items good and bad supplied
Full many day his shoulder pres't
Till nightfall brought welcome rest.
And then, beside, as you all know,
Love-freighted squib, or billetdoux,
Receives attention, just the same
AS documents from courts OF tame,
Demanding action prompt and great
To guard the public veal of State;
For sure the "Miss" enjoys her letter.
Dare we presume her lover better?
And does the poor girl toll for bread
(And blessings on that poor girls head),
She has true and loyal friend,
Who will her postal rights defend,
Nor in his mission ever fail
To sing the greeting-"Madam, mail.n
A fitting tribute would we bring
To deck the fame of Persia's King
Yet gather from sublimer bowers
For "Sunset Cox" sweeter flowers.
There are no nobler boys. more true,
Than they who don the postal blue;
They're Uncle Sans ad interim
He boasts OF them and they of him,
No ship of State will ever wreck
While meu like these shall man the deck:
SO long as float the stripes and stars,
The heavenly blue, the crimson bars
From Plymouth Rock to western wave.
Our nations lovely and her brave,
With hearts as warm, as kind, as true.
AS heroes boast or bosom knew
VIII beat, brave Carriers" for you,
And pray your life be grandly starred,
Our country's ornament and guard.
T. j. SCHOONoyER.
IL \,