On four-horse coach, whose luggage pierced the sky, Perch'd on back seat, like clerk on office-stool, While wintry winds my dangling heels kept cool, In Whitney white envelop'd and blue tie, Unpillow'd slumber from my half-closed eye Scared by the shrill tin horn; when welcome Yule Brought holiday season, it was thus from school I homeward came some forty years gone by. Thus two long days and one long night I rode, Stage after stage, till the last change of team Stopp'd, splash'd and panting, at my fire's abode. How nowaday from school comes home my son? Through duct and tunnel by a puff of steam, Shot like a pellet from his own pop-gun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INSPIRATION by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1822-1882) THOSE VARIOUS SCALPELS by MARIANNE MOORE SKY WRITING by MARY FINETTE BARBER SPRING IS NOT THE ASH by MARVIN BARRETT NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 24 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT CARCASSONNE (SUGGESTED BY LORD DUNSANY'S STORY) by BERTON BRALEY |