From The Rise and Fall of the Mustache, and other “Hawk-eyetems,” by Robert J. Burdette, illustrated by R. W. Wallis; Burlington Publishing Company, Burlington, Iowa; 1877; p. 108.
DOWN where the wake-robin springs from its slumbers,
Opening its cardinal eye to the sun;
Come the dull echoes of far away thunders
Heavy and fast as the shots of a gun.
Up on the hill where the wild flowers nestle,
Like new fallen stars on the green mossy strand;
There come the dead notes of the house-cleaning pestle —
The sound of the carpet is heard in the land.
Up! for the song birds their matins are singing;
Up, for the morning is tinting the skies;
Up, for the good wife the clothes-prop is bringing
Out to the line where the hall carpet flies.
Up, and away! For the carpet is dusty!
Fly, for the house-cleaning days have begun!
Run! for the womanly temper is crusty;
Up and be doing, lest you be undone!
Late, late; too late. Just one moment of snoring.
He wakes to the sound of the tumult below.
O’er the beating of carpets he hears a voice roaring,
“Breakfast was over three hours ago!”
See, he is plunged in the front of the battle;
Where dust is the thickest they tell him to stand;
Where suds, mops and scrub-brushes spatter and rattle,
And the sound of the carpet is heard in the land.