The father leans an anxious ear
The thunder of thy hoofs to hear;
The lover listens, far away,
To catch thy keen exultant neigh;
And, where thy breathings roll and rise,
The husband strains his eager eyes,
And laugh of wife and baby-glee
Ring out to greet and welcome thee.
Then stretch away! and when at last
The master's hand shall gently check
Thy mighty speed, and hold thee fast,
The world will pat thee on the neck.




HIS MOTHER'S WAY

Tomps 'ud allus haf to say
Somepin' 'bout "his mother's way."--
_He_ lived hard-like--never jined
Any church of any kind.--
"It was Mother's way," says he,
"To be good enough fer _me_
And her too,--and certinly
Lord has heerd _her_ pray!"
Propped up on his dyin' bed,--
"Shore as Heaven's overhead,
I'm a-goin' there," he said---
"It was Mother's way."