From these short simple annals of the Rink.
P’r’aps in this quiet spot we may descry
Some rinker pregnant with emotions grand;
This one, may be, will fill some office high,
This the applause of list’ning crowds command.
That youth we saw with hands upheld on high,
With form erect, pursue his eager way,
Though now in rinking lets his time go by,
May be the Gladstone of a future day.
That youth who “loathed melancholy” dreads,