THE PRISONER AT THE BAR.
"Stand up at the bar," cried the Justice severe.
"And what you can say I will patiently hear;
But you have been brought here so often before
That I fear it will be the old story once more.
"Stop! You needn't repeat that you couldn't find work.
For I know you quite well for a tramp and a shirk;
You sneak round the farm-houses begging for bread,
And will rob even those by whose hands you are fed.
"For a stout hearty fellow like you it's a shame
To take the alms due to the sick or the lame;
But to steal from the kind ones who pity your case,
I must punish severely a meanness so base."
"Well, your Honor, I've nothing to say, for I see
That nothing will change your opinion of me;
I suppose you will tell me, as often before,
That I must be sent to the tread-mill once more."
"You take the words out of my mouth," said the Judge;
"You are sentenced a month on the tread-mill to trudge;
And when your tramp's over, perhaps you will feel
That it's better to work at the plough than the wheel.
"For good honest labor will bring its reward,
While the way of the idle and vicious is hard;
And 'tis better in youth to this precept to hold
Than have to confess it when hardened and old."
I wonder if all the young people are as glad as I am that June has come again? You know the poet says:
"What is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days.
When heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,
And softly above it her warm ear lays."