Plet - A Christmas Tale of the Wasatch

The Christmas Eve! Ill time had chosen Fate

To work her will and joy annihilate!

Women and children lay beneath that snow,

And many a bronzed cheek was touched with woe.

Think not those men who toil amid the hills

Lack generous fire that noble bosom fills.

Their hearts are tender and their hearts are true,

Their sympathies come quick as mountain dew.

I've been at many rescues; seen the tears

Fill manly eyes, when hope came after fears.

Seen cheeks turn pale, as from their prisons deep,

Crushed, lifeless forms were lifted in last sleep:

As some dear comrade, thought past hope, beneath

The hard-pack'd snow, was found to live—to breathe.

Oh, true those brawny delvers of the mines,

Though in their fashion they are rough at times!