AN old mans thought of School;
An old man, gathering youthful memories and blooms, that youth itself cannot.
Now only do I know you!
O fair auroral skies! O morning dew upon the grass!
And these I seethese sparkling eyes,
These stores of mystic meaningthese young lives,
Building, equipping, like a fleet of shipsimmortal ships!
Soon to sail out over the measureless seas,
On the Souls voyage.
Only a lot of boys and girls?
Only the tiresome spelling, writing, ciphering classes?
Only a Public School?
Ah moreinfinitely more;
(As George Fox raisd his warning cry, Is it this pile of brick and
mortarthese dead floors, windows, railsyou call the church?
Why this is not the church at allthe Church is living, ever living Souls.)
And you, America,
Cast you the real reckoning for your present?
The lights and shadows of your futuregood or evil?
To girlhood, boyhood lookthe Teacher and the School.