. "Blasts" from The Ram's Horn. When real religion gets a man he will want to tell the news whateverthe time of night may be. 222 Blasts From The Rams Horn COBBLER By Sharlie Hurd. HE broad highway cornea wandering downOver the hill and through the town, Past whitewashed church, and houses whereThe old pump stands, in the village square. The village cobbler peers from his shopAt the patient cattle and teams that stop, And watches the traveler as he drinics,And then, as he journeys on he thinks, Better by far than the rarest wine,Drank from a goblet of cut-class fine, Is a drink of wate
. "Blasts" from The Ram's Horn. When real religion gets a man he will want to tell the news whateverthe time of night may be. 222 Blasts From The Rams Horn COBBLER By Sharlie Hurd. HE broad highway cornea wandering downOver the hill and through the town, Past whitewashed church, and houses whereThe old pump stands, in the village square. The village cobbler peers from his shopAt the patient cattle and teams that stop, And watches the traveler as he drinics,And then, as he journeys on he thinks, Better by far than the rarest wine,Drank from a goblet of cut-class fine, Is a drink of water clear and cold,From the iron dipper, battered and old. The village cobbler is bent and gray; Too old to work the town-folks say,But work he must—for he is poor—To keep the gaunt wolf from the door. Years long agone, old Cobbler BrownHad the finest farm in all the town, And merry children and loving wifeS, Led Cobbler Brown a happy life. His home a Paradise was, untilOne day he built a cider mill. Then, on his table there always stoodA cider pitcher,—drink who would; And where he worked about the farmA jug was there, within reach of arm. Winter or summer, wh
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectpoetry, bookyear1902
