Classic Poem

Put by the work now, and heap up the fire,
Till it crackles a welcome warm and bright;
Let the curtains down, draw the sofa nigher,
For surely the boys will be home to-night.

“Their letter was dated two weeks ago—
They intended to start for home next day;
But as Freddy was weak, they have travelled slow,
And so many chances might cause delay,

“That I scarcely expected them sooner; and yet
I have counted the hours from dark till dawn,
And rejoiced to think, when the sun had set,
That another wearisome day was gone.

“And Harry was wounded, the letter said;
Thank Heaven! it added, the wound is slight.
Hark! listen! I think I can hear their tread—
No, no; but they surely will come to-night.

“The year, like a tiresome dream, has passed—
Twelve months of waiting, and weeping, and pain;
For I thought, when I saw their faces last,
That I should not see them alive again.

“But the cars should be in by this time. Hark!
Shall I go to meet them, or wait and pray?
For the night is fearfully wild and dark—
Ah! some one is coming, at last, this way.”

Steadily on, through the wind and sleet,
Like the tread of men who a burden bore,
Came the measured fall of approaching feet
Steadily on to the cottage door.

And heavily into that cheerful room,
With their heads uncovered and faces-brown,
Strong men came out of the night and the gloom,
And laid two white, pine coffins down.

And so, to the homestead that love and care
Had made so cheerful, and warm, and bright—
To the old, fond mother that waited there,
Her two boys came from the war that night.