What The Postman Brings

 What The Postman Brings
by Isadore Baker

 

 Of all life's minor blessings

Fate or providence may send,

There is nothing e'er so welcome

As a letter from a friend,-

For the spirit of the writer

Lurks within the glowing lines

And e'en how much a "-" may mean

The reader quick defines.

But for commas and the colons

We have little use, to-day,

They are frowned upon by fashion

And have no excuse to stay,

For modern "love of letters"

Will tolerate now less

Than briefest art and formula

Ideas can express.

And the old-time books on Letters

(If we'd follow their advice)

Would send the correspondence

To limbo in a trice.

'Tis known without the telling

That you take your pen in hand,

For otherwise is nothing writ

Throughout this goodly land.

And 'tis an item understood

That you, in best of health,

Should wish your friend this blessing,

Of nature's truest wealth.

Oh, kind, polite and friendly

Must the model letter be,

And never dull or prosy,

If you would write to me.