To-day, old friend, remember still That I am Joe and you are Bill. You've won the great world's envied prize, And grand you look in people's eyes, With HON. and L L. D., In big brave letters, fair to see Your fist, old fellow! off they go! How are you, Bill? How are you, Joe? You've worn the judge's ermine robe; The chaffing young folks stare and say, How Bill forgets his hour of pride, Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame? The weary idol takes his stand, Holds out his bruised and aching hand, While gaping thousands come and go 'Tis poor old Joe's "God bless you, Bill!" And shall we breathe in happier spheres No matter; while our home is here RING OUT, WILD BELLS! ING An Invocation to the New Year. out, wild bells, to the wild sky, Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin, Ring out false pride in place and blood, Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be. B OLD. Y the wayside, on a mossy stone, Sat a hoary pilgrim sadly musing; Oft I marked him sitting there alone, By the wayside, on a mossy stone. Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-rimmed hat, Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-rimmed hat. It was summer, and we went to school, It was summer, and we went to school. When the stranger seemed to mark our play- Oftentimes the tears unbidden started, When the stranger seemed to mark our play. One sweet spirit broke the silent spell; One sweet spirit broke the silent spell. 'Angel," said he sadly, "I am old; Earthly hope no longer hath a morrow; "I have tottered here to look once more I have tottered here to look once more. "All the picture now to me how dear! E'en this gray old rock, where I am seated, Is a jewel worth my journey here; Ah! that such a scene must be completed All the picture now to me how dear! "Old stone school-house! it is still the same! There's the very step I so oft mounted; There's the window creaking in its frame, And the notches that I cut and counted For the game; Old stone school-house!-it is still the same! "In the cottage, yonder, I was born; Long my happy home that humble dwelling: There are the fields of clover, wheat, and corn, There the spring, with limpid nectar swelling; Ah, forlorn! In the cottage, yonder, I was born. "There's the orchard where we used to climb, Fearing nought but work and rainy weather; There's the or hard where we used to climb! "There's the mill that ground our yellow grain, Pond, and river still serenely flowing; Cot, there nestling in the shaded lane, There's the mill that ground our yellow grain! "There's the gate on which I used to swing, Brook, and bridge, and barn, and old red stable; But, alas! no more the morn shall bring That dear group around my father's table; There's the gate on which I used to swing. "I am fleeing!-all I loved are fled! Yon green meadow was our place for playing: That old tree can tell of sweet things said, When around it Jane and I were straying: She is dead! I am fleeing!-all I loved are fled! |