Poems (Victor)/The Post-Boy's Song
THE POST-BOY'S SONG.
The night is wild, and the road is long,
The scudding clouds fly fast,
The swift wind sings a dreary song
And the trees creak in the blast;
The moon is down in the tossing sea,
The stars shed not a ray,
The lightning flashes frightfully,
But I must on my way.
Like a shuttle thrown by the hand of fate
Forward and back I go
Bearing a thread to the desolate
To darken his web of woe,
A brighter thread to the glad of heart,
And a mingled one for all,
Yet the dark and light I cannot part,
Nor alter their hues at all.
Full many a hundred times have I
Gone o'er it in the dark,
'Till my faithful steeds can well descry
Each long familiar mark,
Withal should peril come tonight
God have us in his care,
For all alone, and without light
The boldest well beware.
Now, on, my steeds; the lightning's flash
An instant gilds our way;
But steady! by that fearful crash
The heavens seem rent away.
Soho, here comes the blast anew,
And a pelting flood of rain;
Steady! a sea seems bursting through
A rift in some upper main.
'Tis a terrible night, a dreary hour,
But who will remember to pray
That the care of the storm-controlling power
Be over the post-boy's way?
The wayward wanderer from his home,
The sailor upon the sea,
Have prayers to bless them where they roam—
Who thinketh to pray for me?
The storm has passed. Up swims the moon
Like a stately ship at sea;
Now on, my steeds! this brilliant noon
Of a night so black shall be
A scene for us. Toss high your heads,
And merrily speed away,
We shall startle the sleepers in their beds
Before the dawn of day.
Like a shutter thrown by the hand of fate
Forward and back I go,
Bearing a thread to the desolate
To darken his web of woe,
A brighter thread to the glad of heart,
And a mingled one for all.
But the dark and light I cannot part,
Nor alter their hues at all.
Wooster, Ohio, 1849.