Of all the works of Uncle Sam, Beneficent and wise -- The mighty irrigation dam, The conquest of the skies, The money coined sound and true, The seeds he scatters free -- There's none that holds a candle to The R. F. D.! The R. F. D. with lengthened arms, Extends its kindly sway To little, isolated farms From cities far away. Through country lanes it reaches out, Beyond the upland lea; And ah, its travel-feet are stout -- The R. F. D.! The blessed little box of tin Beside the winding road, What treasures may be stored therein From out the postman's load; The barefoot children caper down And crowd about to see. Ah, better than the joys of town -- The R. F. D.! The long and lonely country days Are lightened by the mail, And cheery hopes and better ways Spring in the postman's trail. And farm and city, understood, More happily agree. God bless the bond of brotherhood, The R. F. D.! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING [IN WAR-TIME] by HENRY TIMROD ARMY CORRESPONDENT'S LAST RIDE; FIVE FORKS, APRIL 1, 1865 by GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND IN YOUTH IS PLEASURE by ROBERT WEVER DUSK; TO MADEMOISELLE MARIE LAURENCIN by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE THE ORGANIST by KATHARINE LEE BATES |