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There I was birched! 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 fruitful leaves to me!

The summoned class!-the awful bowl-
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 !

And Mrs. S***?-Doth she abet (Like Pallas in the palor) yet

Some favored two or threeThe little Crichtons of the hour, Her muffin-medals that devour,

And swill her prize-bohea ?

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 ?

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 ?

Alack! they 're gone-a thousand ways!
And some are serving in “the Greys,"

And some have perished young !-
Jack Harris weds his second wife;
Hal Baylis drives the wayne of life;

And blithe Carew-is hung!

Grave Bowers teaches A BO
To Savages at Owhyee;

Poor Chase is with the worms !-
All are gone—the olden breed !-
New crops of mushroom boys succeeds,

“And push us from our forms/"

Lo! where they scramble forth, and shout, And leap, and skip, and mob about,

At play where we have played! Some hop, some run (some fall), some twine Their crony arms; some in the shine,

And some are in the shade!

Lo there what mixed conditions run!
The orphan lad; the widow's son;

And Fortune's favored care-
The wealthy born, for whom she hath
Macadamized the future path-

The nabob's pampered heir!

Some brightly starred—some evil born-
For honor some, and some for scorn-

For fair or foul renown!
Good, bad, indifferent—none they lack!
Look, here's a white, and there's a black !

And there's a creole brown!

Some laugh and sing, some mope and weep,
And wish their frugal sires would keep

Their only sons at home;-
Some tease the future tense, and plan
The full-grown doings of the man,

And pant for years to come!

A foolish wish! There's one at hoop;
And four at fives! and five who stoop

The marble taw to speed !
And one that curvets in and out,
Reining his fellow-cob about,

Would I were in his steed!

Yet he would gladly halt and drop
That boyish harness off, to swop

With this world's heavy van-
To toil, to tug. O little fool!
While thou can be a horse at school

To wish to be a man!

Perchance thou deem'st it were a thing
To wear a crown-to be a king!

And sleep on regal down!
Alas! thou know'st not kingly cares;
Far happier is thy head that wears

That hat without a crown!

And dost thou think that years acquire New added joys? Dost think thy sire

More happy than his son? That manhood's mirth?—0, go thy ways To Drury-lane when - plays,

And see how forced our fun!

Thy taws are brave !—thy tops are rare ! Our tops are spun with coils of care,

Our dumps are no delight The Elgin marbles are but tame. And 'tis at best a sorry game

To fly the Muse's kite !

Our hearts are dough, our heels are lead,
Our topmost joys fall dull and dead,

Like balls with no rebound!
And often with a faded eye
We look behind, and send a sigh

Toward that merry ground !

Then be contented. Thou hast got
The most of heaven in thy young lot;

There's sky-blue in thy cup!
Thou 'lt find thy manhood all too fast-
Soon come, soon gonel and age at last
A sorry breaking up!

Grave Bowers teaches A B C
To Savages at Owhyee;

Poor Chase is with the worms -
All are gone—the olden breed !
New crops of mushroom boys succeeds,

“And push us from our forms/"

Lo! where they scramble forth, and shout, And leap, and skip, and mob about,

At play where we have played! Some hop, some run (some fall), some twine Their crony arms; some in the shine,

And some are in the shade!

Lo there what mixed conditions run!
The orphan lad; the widow's son;

And Fortune's favored care-
The wealthy born, for whom she hath
Macadamized the future path-

The nabob's pampered heir!

Some brightly starred—some evil born-
For honor some, and some for scorn-

For fair or foul renown!
Good, bad, indifferent—none they lack!
Look, here's a white, and there's a black !

And there's a creole brown!

Some laugh and sing, some mope and weep,
And wish their frugal sires would keep

Their only sons at home;-
Some tease the future tense, and plan
The full-grown doings of the man,

And pant for years to come!

A foolish wish! There's one at hoop;
And four at fives! and five who stoop

The marble taw to speed !
And one that curvets in and out,
Reining his fellow-cob about,

Would I were in his steed!

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