Behind, a noble row of elms,

Whose deep, umbrageous shade, A cool retreat from summer heat,

The tired scholars made.

And thence, the brook beloved by all,
A rippling, silvery stream,
From whence the wily angler took
Full oft the trout and bream.
Such was the little rural school,
Where in the days of youth

I learnt the rudiments of lore,
And many pranks forsooth.-
And now again at early dawn,

When mists are on the hill,
When all around the sparkling dew
The leaves of clover fill,

I saunter up the village lane,

Just back from foreign climes, And rapturously enjoy again

Those scenes of youthful times.
A throstle in the orchard near,

A robin on the gate,
Poured forth a flood of music,

Whilst rooks held high debate

As, fluttering round their rude-built town. Among the lofty trees,

They fed their young, or fought with those

Which fain their nests would seize.

I stood to watch them for awhile,

To list to caw and song;

Then, leisurely advancing,

Once more I walked along.
How often in this well-known lane
In bygone boyish days,

A loitering schoolboy, I did love
To list to caws and lays.

Ay, oft my mother from our cot
Would watch me to the school,

And see me enter at its porch,
As sulky as a mule,

Because I dared not stay and pick,
The ripe and tempting sloes
That grew in beauty on a bush,

Which frequent rent my clothes;

Nor climb up to the jackdaw's nest

Just yonder in the fir;

In fact, whilst that dear mother looked,
A fellow couldn't stir.

II.

THE PLAYGROUND.

Ah! here's at last the wicket-gate,
The dear old playground, too;
And with what sudden deep delight
Doth memory review

This place of pranks and merry games,
Of frolics, fights, and noise,
The romping capers and delights,
Of sixty girls and boys.

There did I stand upon my head,

A wond'rous boyish feat;

And yonder scaled the orchard wall,
When making swift retreat.
Here did I get a blue-black eye,

And awful swollen nose,

When battling with a warlike chap

I think 'twas Johnnie Rose. Oft in a group we'd stand around

To watch a game of taws,

And chat, and laugh, and shout the while,

Just like a flock of daws.

Here leapfrog, marbles, hoops, and tops,

With all such youthful toys,

Each in succession had their term,

And brought successive joys.

Since then I frequently have thought

That all the world around,

From east to west, from north to south, Was one vast playing-ground, Wherein the nations of the earth,

Throughout life's little day,

In games and sorrows, joys and schemes, Do wile their time away.

III.

THE SCHOOL DOORWAY.

Now on I move towards the school;
Its thick old oaken door,

A veteran stands to bar the way,

All rudely dented o'er,

With various honourable scars,

From brickbats, kicks, and knives, Where often I have lounging stood,

To watch the game of fives. 'Tis now full thirty years ago,

Yet seems but yesterday,

As memory recalls again

Those scenes of boyish play.

The rising sun has burst the mists,-
And brightens all around;

Its radiant beams in brilliant streams

From dewy grass rebound,

To sparkle on the gazer's eye,

In sudden beams of light,

More beauteous than the diamond fair,

More full of lustre bright;

And flickering on the schoolroom floor

In rays of living gold,

It seemed to me, most curiously,

A streamlet bright to mould.

IV.

THE SCHOOL CLOCK.

Obedient to its lord the key,
Back shoots the trusty lock,

And greeting me full merrily,

Out chimes the old school clock.

A smile seems on its features,

Caught from a laughing beam,

Which glistens by reflection,

As doth the murmuring stream.

Old friend! I greet thee, too, with smiles, For, listening to thy voice

So sweet and clear, so full of cheer,

It makes my heart rejoice.