Ah me! those old familiar bounds!
That classic house, those classic grounds
My pensive thought recalls!
What tender urchins now confine,
What little captives now repine,
Within yon irksome walls?
2.
Ay, that’s the very house! I know
Its ugly windows, ten a-row!
Its chimneys in the rear!
And there’s the iron rod so high,
That drew the thunder from the sky
And turn’d our table-beer!
3.
There I was birch’d! there I was bred!
There like a little Adam fed
From Learning’s woeful tree!
The weary tasks I used to con! —
The hopeless leaves I wept upon! —
Most fruitless leaves to me! —
4.
The summon’d class! — the awful bow! —
I wonder who is master now
And wholesome anguish sheds!
How many ushers now employs,
How many maids to see the boys
Have nothing in their heads!
5.
And Mrs. S——? — Doth she abet
(Like Pallas in the parlor) yet
Some favor’d two or three —
The little Crichtons of the hour,
Her muffin-medals that devour,
And swill her prize — bohea?
6.
Ay, there’s the playground! there’s the lime,
Beneath whose shade in summer’s prime
So wildly I have read! —
Who sits there now, and skims the cream
Of young Romance, and weaves a dream
Of Love and Cottage-bread?
7.
Who struts the Randall of the walk?
Who models tiny heads in chalk?
Who scoops the light canoe?
What early genius buds apace?
Where’s Poynter? Harris? Bowers? Chase?
Hal Baylis? blithe Carew?
8.
Alack! they’re gone — a thousand ways!
And some are serving in “the Greys,”
And some have perish’d young! —
Jack Harris weds his second wife;
Hal Baylis drives the wane of life;
And blithe Carew — is hung!
9.
Grave Bowers teaches A B C
To savages at Owhyee;
Poor Chase is with the worms! —
All, all are gone — the olden breed! —
New crops of mushroon boys succeed,
“And push us from our forms!”
10.
Lo! where they scramble forth, and shout,
And leap, and skip, and mob about,
At play where we have play’d!
Some hop, some run, (some fall,) some twine
Their crony arms; some in the shine —
And some are in the shade!
11.
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