[Pg 61]

[Pg 61]

 The Red Jacket.

The Red Jacket.

TIS a cold, bleak night. With angry roar

The north winds beat and clamor at the door;

The drifted snow lies heaped along the street,

Swept by a blinding storm of hail and sleet;

The clouded heavens no guiding starlight lend,

But o’er the earth in gloom and darkness bend;

Gigantic shadows, by the night-lamps thrown,

Dance their weird revels fitfully alone.

In lofty halls, where fortune takes its ease,

Sunk in the treasures of all lands and seas;

In happy homes, where warmth and comfort meet

The weary traveller with their smiles to greet;

In lonely dwellings, where the needy swarm

Round starving embers, chilling limbs to warm,—

Rises the prayer that makes the sad heart light,

“Thank God for home this bitter, bitter night!”

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