The Young Guard
E. W. Hornung
Excerpt: "Last summer, centuries ago, I watched the postman's lantern glow, As night by night on leaden feet He twinkled down our darkened street. So welcome on his beaten track, The bent man with the bulging sack! But dread of every sleepless couch, A whistling imp with leathern pouch! And now I meet him in the way And earth is Heaven, night is Day, For oh! there shines before his lamp An envelope without a stamp!"