"And the double-barrell'd gun!"
For the Night Mail North, I say?—
You with the eager eyes—
You with the haggard face and pale?—
'From a ruin'd hearth and a starving brood,
"A crime and a felon's gaol!"
For the Night Mail North, old man?—
Old statue of despair—
Why tug and strain at the iron gate?
"My daughter!!" Ha! too late, too late,