AN old man's 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 see--these sparkling eyes,
 These stores of mystic meaning--these young lives,
 Building, equipping, like a fleet of ships--immortal ships!
 Soon to sail out over the measureless seas,
 On the Soul's voyage.

 Only a lot of boys and girls? 10
 Only the tiresome spelling, writing, ciphering classes?
 Only a Public School?

 Ah more--infinitely more;
 (As George Fox rais'd his warning cry, "Is it this pile of brick and
 mortar--these dead floors, windows, rails--you call the church?
 Why this is not the church at all--the Church is living, ever living
 Souls.")

 And you, America,
 Cast you the real reckoning for your present?
 The lights and shadows of your future--good or evil?
 To girlhood, boyhood look--the Teacher and the School.