p. 10 | THE WORKINGMAN'S PAIL by Benjamin P. Field

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Nov 21, 1892

THE WORKINGMAN'S PAIL.

By Benjamin P. Field

BY BENJAMIN P. FIELD.

'Tis not in the high places that the most pleasure give; It is not the rich who the happiest live; 'Tis not always plenty that makes the best feast, For often 'tis sweetest where there is the least. From the banquet hall down to the peasant's plain board, No matter what danties each grade may afford, As sweet-flavored morsel, the best of them fail When compared with the bread in the working-man's pail.

A king may have power and be honored and grand, And luxuriantly live on the "fat of the land;" He may robe him in purple and crown his proud head, But he knows not the sweetness of a plain loaf of bread Bought from the earnings of the hard-working man And moulded in shape by a kind, loving hand. There's no such sweet meal among kings the world over As comes from the pail with a cup on the cover.

Sweet because earned by hands without gloves, And neatly fixed by the wife whom he loves, The mother of his children, his hope and his pets, Who through the day's toil he never forgets; Who from their fond mother like little prayers learn To watch every night for their father's return, And hasten to meet him when the day's work is over, And help carry the pail with a cup on the cover.

Could the little pail speak, it would whisper most sweet Of something more lofty than plain bread and meat; For between man and wife it has something to do, And who knows but it helps to keep them both true? For her heart beats for him as she fills the pail up, And his throbs for her when he lifts off the cup. It may keep their love fresh until life is over, The little tin pail with a cup on the cover.

—New York Rural Home.