Classic Poem

On four-horse coach, whose luggage pierced the sky,
Perch'd on back seat, like clerk on office-stool,
While wintry winds my dangling heels kept cool,
In Whitney white envelop'd and blue tie,
Unpillow'd slumber from my half-closed eye
Scared by the shrill tin horn; when welcome Yule
Brought holiday season, it was thus from school
I homeward came some forty years gone by.
Thus two long days and one long night I rode,
Stage after stage, till the last change of team
Stopp'd, splash'd and panting, at my sire's abode.
How nowaday from school comes home my son?
Through duct and tunnel by a puff of steam,
Shot like a pellet from his own pop-gun.