The cries of New-York | ||
11
THE ICE-MAN!
The Fahrenheit was rising fast,
When down our area steps there passed,
A youth who bore, as in a vice,
A glorious lump of gleaming ice,—
“Ice! Rockland Ice!”
When down our area steps there passed,
A youth who bore, as in a vice,
A glorious lump of gleaming ice,—
“Ice! Rockland Ice!”
His glance was cool,—his brow above,
Serene and gentle as a dove,
And like the gong for dinner rung,
The tones of that stentorian tongue,
“Ice! Rockland Ice!”
Serene and gentle as a dove,
And like the gong for dinner rung,
The tones of that stentorian tongue,
“Ice! Rockland Ice!”
The cries of New-York | ||