proud revilers who employ Their tongues as poisoned darts I deem of rude, unpolished taste, Uncouth and shallow hearts.

p. 179

p. 180BOYISH DAYS.

p. 180

Hail, happy thought—  Sweet, happy thought Of boyish days! Can hope no more arise? Can I no more surmise That they will come again? All happy sport! All sweet resort To merry games, To which, with spirit light, I often did unite In free and boy-like glee! The welcome call To bat and ball I used to hear With that intense delight, So free, and pure, and bright, Which only boys can know. The merry gambols And country rambles I loved to join, p. 181With admiration high, To which no fear was nigh. Are they for ever gone? Yes, they are gone—  For ever gone; In time’s abyss I see them foundering fast; It soon will be the last—, The dying breath of them.  ’Tis sorrow now Bedecks my brow, And sorry care Lies waiting in my path; Prevailing power it hath To bear the spirit down. But let me rise To win the prize, Which is for those Who triumph o’er despair, And, passing every care, Fight bravely to the end.

p. 181

p. 182BEAUTY.

p. 182

Beauty, as the rose of Summer, For a season looketh gay; Ere a while it fades and falleth; So doth beauty pass away.

Charms, the brilliant and enticing, Sparkle to allure awhile; But they are the world’s vain treasure, And an outward, fleeting wile.

There is yet a charm more pleasing Than the outward to behold; ’Tis a humble spirit, easing Pilgrims onward to the fold.

This the scythe of time shall never Rob of its adorning grace; But shall leave it laurels ever To bedeck its resting place.

p. 183’Tis the maiden who shall win them Walks in virtue’s modest way, Heeding not the world’s gay treasure, Minding not the worldling’s way.

p. 183

Not the maiden who rejoiceth To abound in vaunting show; This shall in the time forsake her, When her hope hath sunken low.

p. 184MY SCHOOLMATES.

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