 | Rhymes with reason and without |  |
171
SATURDAY NIGHT;
OR, A SOMEWHAT WORLDLY VIEW OF A RATHER SERIOUS TIME, WHERE THE SOLACES OF EARTH ARE SUPPOSED TO CROWD DOWN MORE SPIRITUAL INFLUENCES.
Well, Saturday has come again—
The night of all the nights is here;
Regarded world-wide as the pause
In labor's wearisome career.
The night of all the nights is here;
Regarded world-wide as the pause
In labor's wearisome career.
The pleasing sound of hard-earned cash
Has lulled the soul to tranquil rest;
The “ready” has a potent charm
To ease the troubles of the breast.
Has lulled the soul to tranquil rest;
The “ready” has a potent charm
To ease the troubles of the breast.
Virtue has not like this the power
To soothe the heart oppressed by woe;
Experience tells us every hour
She rarely bides with men below.
To soothe the heart oppressed by woe;
Experience tells us every hour
She rarely bides with men below.
Her influence, reckoned as the balm
To cool the fever of earth's ills,
Can never boast the healing charm
That rests in good and current bills.
To cool the fever of earth's ills,
Can never boast the healing charm
That rests in good and current bills.
172
Their rustling, like the sound of leaves,
In the bright, bland summer night,
The eager, care-worn soul receives,
Rejoicing in a new delight.
In the bright, bland summer night,
The eager, care-worn soul receives,
Rejoicing in a new delight.
O, how the days in turmoil pass,—
A thousand pressing trials vex us,—
Until we long, in vain, alas!
To flee the land, and go to—Texas,—
A thousand pressing trials vex us,—
Until we long, in vain, alas!
To flee the land, and go to—Texas,—
To throw the weary body by,
Or cast the bitter care that fills us;
When, like an answer to our prayer,
Comes Saturday along, and stills us.
Or cast the bitter care that fills us;
When, like an answer to our prayer,
Comes Saturday along, and stills us.
But many are the means and ways
This resting season for enjoying;
Some lose themselves in pleasure's maze,
And some the hour are worse employing.
This resting season for enjoying;
Some lose themselves in pleasure's maze,
And some the hour are worse employing.
Some drug their souls in Cyprian bowers,
Lured on to death by venal charms,
And cast their fortunes and their powers
To the false trust of treacherous arms.
Lured on to death by venal charms,
And cast their fortunes and their powers
To the false trust of treacherous arms.
Happy the man who finds his home,
The rightful spot to spend the season;
Whose passions, checked, nor left to roam,
Are made subservient to reason.
The rightful spot to spend the season;
Whose passions, checked, nor left to roam,
Are made subservient to reason.
173
Who heedeth not the proud man's sneer,
Or that a callous world may flout him;
Well pleased his children's breath to hear,
Harmonious in their sleep about him.
Or that a callous world may flout him;
Well pleased his children's breath to hear,
Harmonious in their sleep about him.
No horrors rack his sleeping head,
Based on hot suppers, pipes, or steaming;
But radiant angels round his bed
Infuse bright fancies in his dreaming.
Based on hot suppers, pipes, or steaming;
But radiant angels round his bed
Infuse bright fancies in his dreaming.
Blest goal! to which the toiling heart
Can look as for its solace given,
And claim thee, as indeed thou art,
The happiest night of all the seven!
Can look as for its solace given,
And claim thee, as indeed thou art,
The happiest night of all the seven!
| Rhymes with reason and without | |