AN OLD FRIEND'S STORY DURING A WALK
The light is warm on Newton's hills
With halls of learning crowned;
The sunset shadow, lengthening, hlls
The mernory-haunted ground.
bowery heights! sun-lit peaks!
My eye to you once more
Is turned, and, dim with feeling, seeks
What once it sought with glowing cheeks,
Old class-room Number Four.
'T is autumn, and an amber haze,
An over-sea of gold,
Is bright as in the olden days,
And has the charm of old.
The birds are gone, the cricket sings
Upon the grassy floor,
And quickened thought its vision brings
Of vanished youth and withered springs,
And class-room Number Four.
I walk the upward path alone
That once I walked with friends;
A pilgrim to the halls alone
My halting step ascends.
I see the pine-plumed hill-tops rise
Around me as of yore;
Below, the weir, cloud-shadowed, lies;
Above, the blue hikes of the skies;
The silent halls, before.
O shaded windows that I see
By pilgrim years endeared.
Where oft I dreamed, and fair to me
The future's light appeared;
Lawns, where I used to sport and play
With classmates seen no more,
Springless and summerless to-day
I wend alone life's autumn way
To class-room Number Four.
Where are they now, where are they now, —
The friends who gathered there,
And oft, with faith-illumined brow,
Spoke of the future fair?
Where are the ardent hands that met
Each evening at the door?
My life is green in memory yet,
But never can my heart forget
Old class-room Number Four.
One sleeps beside the mobile seas, —
His life had just begun, —
And one beneath yon crimsoned trees
Who died for Aracan.
Kind Nature spreads the grass and fern
The graves of others o'er;
The flamed-tipped leaves above them burn;
Their feet, alas! will ne'er return
To class-room Number Four.
We toil and sow, but only gain
The harvests of our prayers;
Our hopes in God alone remain
Of all our anxious cares.
To these, how little worth appears
The all of learning's store,
The classic lore, the thoughts of seers,
I gathered in those early years
I spent in Number Four.
The light is low, the sunset's glow
Scarce hides the evening star,
And winds through dreamy shades below,
The silver Charles afar.
Farewell! shadow-mantled halls!
I ne'er may see you more;
Afar the voice of duty calls,
As sombre night around me falls
And class-room Number Four.