Ushered by whistle and by bell?
A halo of peace round each home it flings;
To poor and to weary relief it brings;
And e’en the black tea-kettle gaily sings:
O moments calm! Ye foretell the rest
That soon must come to each human breast.
Westward speed on o’er hill and dell,
City and town and cot to tell;
On, on, like a courier, dash away,
Hard pressing the heels of departing day