BY EDGAR WADE ABBOT.
The first train leaves at six p. m.
For the land where the poppy blows;
The mother dear is the engineer,
And the passenger laughs and crows.
The palace car is the mother's arms;
The whistle, a low, sweet strain:
The passenger winks, and nods, and blinks,
And goes to sleep in the train!
At eight p. m. the next train starts
For the poppy land afar,
The summons clear falls on the ear:
"All aboard for the sleeping-car!"
But what is the fare to poppy land?
I hope it is not too dear.
The fare is this, a hug and a kiss,
And it's paid to the engineer!
So I ask of Him who children took
On His knee in kindness great,
"Take charge, I pray, of the trains each day,
That leave at six and eight.
"Keep watch of the passengers," thus I pray,
"For to me they are very dear,
And special ward, O gracious Lord,
O'er the gentle engineer."