Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE POSTMAN, by MARCUS S. C. RICKARDS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO THE POSTMAN, by                    
First Line: Most welcome of all sights and sounds
Last Line: One note ere day departs!
Subject(s): Fate; Fortune; Life; Memory; Postal Service; Destiny; Postmen; Post Office; Mail; Mailmen


MOST welcome of all sights and sounds
Thy form and knock, whose daily rounds
Cheer Life's monotony!
Thy mission genders many a thought,
And type by cunning Fancy wrought,
And emblem back to Memory brought,
I know not how or why.

Dark Fate, whose store no mortal knows;
Full-handed Fortune, who bestows
Her favours as she will;
Chance, fraught with utmost woe and weal;
Blind Justice, who her heart must steel;
Bright Life, Dark Death, to whom appeal
Is vain for good or ill.

Full-handed Peace with affluent look,
Lean War that will no parley brook,
All in their measure lend
Thee or thy freight some likeness true.
O! hailed by many, shunned by few,
Most court thee, as fond lovers woo
A sweet returning friend!

The Sun arises, and his beams
Dispel Night's tears and misty dreams,
Irradiating Earth:
Thou blessed herald of the Morn,
Thy boon oft dries our lids forlorn,
Our visions dark are overborne
By some bright tale of mirth!

The Sun descends in flaming hope
That, darkness come and gone, all scope
For sorrow will be spent:
Thus tho' an evening missive wake
Despair, some cheer may overtake
And quench her when at Morning break
Fresh news thro' thee are sent.

Thine advent is the flowing tide
With measured speed, and swelling pride,
And whiff of distant things:
Thine exodus -- ah! when one sees
Tame ebbing, silent shore, spent breeze,
'Tis the sad calm, the joyless ease
Thy failing footstep brings.

Thou as the wanton Wind at best,
With fragrant wealth from South or West,
Bringest far joys to mind:
Not ever so -- thro' thee at worst
Like North air and East gale accurst,
That skim snow-drifts and ice-plains first,
Bleak bitter cheer we find.

As from a lonely shore, eyes sweep
For one due sail the sunlit deep,
So countless lingerers scan,
From solitude of bliss or woe,
Mid matin rose or vesper glow,
Thy path, to hail thee friend or foe,
And mete thee praise or ban.

Thou magnet of expectant eyes,
Thou monarch o'er the fall and rise
Of thrilling, throbbing hearts!
I crown thee true, I keep thy laws,
If at my door thy quick step pause,
And from its store thy hand withdraws
One note ere Day departs!





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