In volumes encircling the same as of yore;
But where is that father so kindly nursed me,
And, gentlest of mothers—O, where now is she?
The schoolhouse, unaltered, stands there all alone,
But where the young friends of my bosom are gone?
The schoolhouse is there still, but where are the boys
With whom I oft tasted of innocent joys?
The church there I see on the desolate street,
But where are the crowds that I there used to meet?
The minister, too, who had won my regard?