WESTERN HOSPITALITY.
Reading edition
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BY GEORGE P. MORRIS.
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Hard by I’ve a cottage that stands near a wood,
A stream glides in peace at the door,
Where all who are weary, ’tis well understood,
Receive hospitality’s store.
To cheer that the brook and the thicket afford,
The stranger we freely invite:
You’re welcome to come and partake at the board,
And afterwards rest for the night.
The birds in the morning will sing from the trees,
And herald the young god of day;
Then with him uprising, depart if you please,
We’ll set you refresh’d on your way.
Your coin for this service we sternly reject,
No traffic for gain we pursue,
And all the reward that we wish or expect,
We take in the good that we do.
Mankind are all travellers on life’s rugged road,
And myriads would wander astray
In seeking eternity’s silent abode
Did mercy not point out the way.
If all would their duty discharge as they should,
To those that are helpless and poor,
The world would resemble my cot near the wood,
And life the sweet stream at my door.