Oh, fellow scholar who along with me
Learned the first rudiments of ball and book
Within the grounds of the Academy,
In vain for that old landmark now you look.
Gone with the Master, yet a memory lingers,
And will forever consecrate the spot,
Nor can the power of Time's effacing fingers,
While life shall last, the recollection blot.
Teacher and pupils, few remain, and they
Far on in years, lean on a slender staff;
The school-house, all you see of that to-day
Is shown you there upon its photograph.
Change is on all things, and I see it here;
Land that then grew the turnip and "potater,"
Now blooms in flowers and costs exceeding dear,
Bringing some thousand dollars by the acre!
And villas crown the rising hill-tops round,
And stately mansions stand adorned with art,
And liveried coaches roll with rumbling sound
Where once jogged on the wagon-wheel and cart.
Hail to the future, ages come and go,
And men are borne upon the sweeping tide;
Wave follows wave in ever ceaseless flow,
The present stays not by the dweller's side.
I stand to-day far down the farthest slope,
And up the lengthened pathway turn and look,
Where on the summit once stood Youth and Hope,
Now soon to turn the last leaf of the Book.
And I am glad that while there come to me
These fragrant memories of life's early scene,
That still in robes of purest white I see
The Church Spire rising on the village green.