Six o’Clock.Down by the rugged coast of MaineBreaks on the air the glad refrainThat welcomes old Time on his westward flight,That makes the dull eye of the toiler bright,And heralds the bliss of a single night;Thus bell and whistle with clang and shriek,At six o’clock and six times a week.Loveliest hour of all the day,Blest is thy sweet and mystic sway:Affection and hope in their might are rifeIn each watching child; in the waiting wife;The father that tramps from his daily strife;The widow’s son and his fond embrace;In the smile that beams on her pallid face.Who hath not felt the wondrous spell,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 restThat 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 dayTill stopped by the waters of “’Frisco” Bay!Thus bell and whistle with clang and shriek,At six o’clock, and six times a week.—Geo.M. Vickers.
Six o’Clock.Down by the rugged coast of MaineBreaks on the air the glad refrainThat welcomes old Time on his westward flight,That makes the dull eye of the toiler bright,And heralds the bliss of a single night;Thus bell and whistle with clang and shriek,At six o’clock and six times a week.Loveliest hour of all the day,Blest is thy sweet and mystic sway:Affection and hope in their might are rifeIn each watching child; in the waiting wife;The father that tramps from his daily strife;The widow’s son and his fond embrace;In the smile that beams on her pallid face.Who hath not felt the wondrous spell,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 restThat 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 dayTill stopped by the waters of “’Frisco” Bay!Thus bell and whistle with clang and shriek,At six o’clock, and six times a week.—Geo.M. Vickers.
Down by the rugged coast of MaineBreaks on the air the glad refrainThat welcomes old Time on his westward flight,That makes the dull eye of the toiler bright,And heralds the bliss of a single night;Thus bell and whistle with clang and shriek,At six o’clock and six times a week.Loveliest hour of all the day,Blest is thy sweet and mystic sway:Affection and hope in their might are rifeIn each watching child; in the waiting wife;The father that tramps from his daily strife;The widow’s son and his fond embrace;In the smile that beams on her pallid face.Who hath not felt the wondrous spell,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 restThat 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 dayTill stopped by the waters of “’Frisco” Bay!Thus bell and whistle with clang and shriek,At six o’clock, and six times a week.—Geo.M. Vickers.
Down by the rugged coast of MaineBreaks on the air the glad refrainThat welcomes old Time on his westward flight,That makes the dull eye of the toiler bright,And heralds the bliss of a single night;Thus bell and whistle with clang and shriek,At six o’clock and six times a week.Loveliest hour of all the day,Blest is thy sweet and mystic sway:Affection and hope in their might are rifeIn each watching child; in the waiting wife;The father that tramps from his daily strife;The widow’s son and his fond embrace;In the smile that beams on her pallid face.Who hath not felt the wondrous spell,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 restThat 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 dayTill stopped by the waters of “’Frisco” Bay!Thus bell and whistle with clang and shriek,At six o’clock, and six times a week.—Geo.M. Vickers.
Down by the rugged coast of Maine
Breaks on the air the glad refrain
That welcomes old Time on his westward flight,
That makes the dull eye of the toiler bright,
And heralds the bliss of a single night;
Thus bell and whistle with clang and shriek,
At six o’clock and six times a week.
Loveliest hour of all the day,Blest is thy sweet and mystic sway:Affection and hope in their might are rifeIn each watching child; in the waiting wife;The father that tramps from his daily strife;The widow’s son and his fond embrace;In the smile that beams on her pallid face.
Loveliest hour of all the day,
Blest is thy sweet and mystic sway:
Affection and hope in their might are rife
In each watching child; in the waiting wife;
The father that tramps from his daily strife;
The widow’s son and his fond embrace;
In the smile that beams on her pallid face.
Who hath not felt the wondrous spell,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 restThat soon must come to each human breast.
Who hath not felt the wondrous spell,
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 dayTill stopped by the waters of “’Frisco” Bay!Thus bell and whistle with clang and shriek,At six o’clock, and six times a week.—Geo.M. Vickers.
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
Till stopped by the waters of “’Frisco” Bay!
Thus bell and whistle with clang and shriek,
At six o’clock, and six times a week.
—Geo.M. Vickers.