f Class Book LJ r*/ k.^ h^'^ Gop>Tight}l^. i^ / COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT Poems of School and Life BY CHARLES E. WHITE, Principal of Franklin School, Syracuse, N. Y. COPYRIGHT. 1916 BY CHARLES E. WHITE. fjC M 30 1916 JOHN SINGLE PAPER CO. PRINTERS SYRACUSE. N. Y. CI.A431705 npO the thousands of youth whom he has striven to inspire, and to uplift, in the fifty years of his stewardship, and to those who so loyally and efficiently labored with him to the same end, this little book is lovingly inscribed by The Author. TABLE OF CONTENTS. The Schoolmaster... 5 The Strenuous Life 6 Who Is My Friend? 9 April 11 My Hammer 13 Visions of Childhood 15 Forty Years Ago 19 Your Diary 24 Banquet of Sportsmen 25 The Creation 31 The School Nine 37 The Teacher's Daily Schedule 43 A Goose Tale 44 A Tribute to Gibson 49 A Tribute from Gibson 52 Sunset 53 The Men's Club 55 Greetings to an Octogenarian 57 An Allegory of Life 58 The Schoolmaster's Reward 62 Dire Punishment 65 Class Song 66 Reminiscences 67 Reminiscences Six Years After 72 School and Life 75 Farewell, Billy Sunday 83 Nuts to Crack 83 Man's Inhumanity to Man 89 An Ode to Winter 91 The Weather in Alabama 96 The Weather in Chautauqua 97 The Golden Wedding 98 Acknowledgment of a Gift 102 The Pronoun, 1 103 Dawn 104 Christmas 105 What Constitutes a Gentleman? 105 Piscatorial Pedagogics 106 Come Join Our Club 107 Not Death, But Life 108 On the Birth of a Boy 110 School Closes at Three Ill Who Took the Scissors? 112 Commencement 113 The School Colors 116 A Crying Need 118 The Lost Glue 123 Who Took the Glue? An Ode to Sue 124 The Evolution of a Nimrod 129 Battle Song of Peace 136 Old School, Good Bye 138 My Mother 139 The Fishing Party 140 Gibson's Response 142 THE SCHOOLMASTER His Work: EMPLOYING all his arts For many years he strives To fashion purer hearts And model nobler lives. His Joy: Most happy when he knov^s His efforts richly crowned, Or that the seed he sows Falls not on barren ground. His Blessings: Wher'er their lots may fall His benedictions flow On thousands, big and small, Whose hearts his heart doth know. His Prayer: His one found hope of grace May future decades give : — In others' hearts a place In others' lives to live. 6 Poems of THE STRENUOUS LIFE Dedicated to Theodore Roosevelt '^' O moment falls, but duty calls To valorous strife, Whose clash and din without, within. Cease not in life, A duty done is victory won 'Gainst foes within ; True heroes need no higher meed Than thus to win. Who fears to fight gains naught by flight But craven fame ; Far better feel the hostile steel Than coward's shame. To shirk and cheat insure defeat At fearful cost; For courage fled, and honor dead, Then all is lost. Though foes are strong, and fierce and long Each deadly fray, They only fall who spurn the call. Or disobey. School and Life Though scarred and stained, each battle gained New ardor yields, And strength that leads to knightlier deeds On future fields. Who overthrows his inner foes In bootless rout, Hath sword and mail that never fail 'Gainst foes without. Hath kingly might and Heaven's right To crush and slay The dragon breed whose coils impede His righteous way. Hath might to stand with lifted hand And summon Peace; To interpose 'twixt warring foes And bid them cease. No sordid greed nor wanton deed Beguiles his soul. No fear of blame, nor dream of fame Eclipse his goal; 8 Poems of For duty bound, and battle-crowned His heart is steeled 'Gainst siren song and monster wrong, And cannot yield. His stainless name, and peerless fame Attest his worth; His potent hand exalts the land That gave him birth. Her children feel a nobler zeal Within them burn. Her annals blaze the lustrous praise His virtues earn. With purpose high to win or die In dutys' cause. He fights for right with dauntless might And cannot pause. School and Life WHO IS MY FRIEND? TylTHO is my friend of those I greet, And oft in social converse meet? What secret cabalistic sign Admits to friendship's inner shrine? What subtle telepathic art Can peer into another's heart, And 'mongst its cloistered treasures rare, Discern true friendship lurking there? Like trees with foliage and root. But utterly devoid of fruit. Convention's seeming friendship warm Too often proves a barren form; The proffered hand and courteous bow, The winsome smile and lifted brow, May mark a prized and loyal friend, Or mask a base and crafty end. In every age of mortal man Since human fellowship began, The social germ, a thing innate, Has ever sought congenial mate ; And man's indeed supremely blest, Though all his life in social quest. If but a few he chance to win Whose souls to his are truly kin. 10 Poems of Thy friend is thy rare counterpart, The alter ego of the heart, Whose soul with charm almost divine Excites responsiveness in thine. A friend, more worth than any gold, Is prototyped in Him of old. Who, e'en forsaken from above, Could yield his life, but not his love. No compensation can redeem The forfeit of a lost esteem. Hold fast thy friend, nay, love, revere, Whatever his plane, he is thy peer. Thine elder brother, and thy guide; And, when malignant foes deride. And worthless friends desert and flee, He'll turn the shaft that's aimed at thee. An absent friend, like missing star From some great constellation far. Is missed as oft as silver light Of rolling moon bedecks the night; Nor time, locality nor death transplace A constant soul, — the form and face Are but exponents of a heart. Whose essence never can depart. School and Life 11 My friend is he, whose gladsome smile Can hide no base deceit nor guile; Companion mine, through changing years, Midst fragrant joys, midst falling tears. Who guards my name against assaults. And sticks to me despite my faults. No truer can the needle be To polar star, than he to me. APRIL r^ OLD winter's frosty hand Is lifting from the land. The mild and lengthening days, The warm and generous rays Of northward climbing sun, Tell April's just begun; And gently falling showers Wake up the sleeping flowers. On bending willow twig Grow downy catkins big, And yellow daffodils Defy the lingering chills. Denuded of its sheen. Preparing crown of green, The vernal woodland seethes. And spicy fragrance breathes. 12 Poe?ns of We hear the vibrant notes Poured forth from feathered throats Of song birds, backward flown, From distant Southern zone. While anthems from the bogs Are swelled by piping frogs, And noisy barn-fowls fling Their greetings to the spring. Glad April days, we greet Thy sounds and perfumes sweet. They cheer our pent-up toil. As springtime blades, the soil ; They banish fancied woe, As radiant sun, the snow; They herald brighter hours. As swelling buds, the flowers. School and Life 13 FROM THE HERALD Last Friday Principal Charles E. White sent to each of the teachers of Franklin school asking her to return his hammer if she had it. No hammer was forthcoming. On Monday morning Mr. White circulated the following 'Tlea of a Hammerless Man" among his teachers, and the hammer was promptly returned : MY HAMMER A/f Y hammer, my hammer, Pray, do bring it back. For no one among us Can nail up a crack Or mount a new picture Or pound in a tack Till this lost utensil Of handy man's pack Which all of you borrow, But now sorely lack Is once again added To my bric-a-brac. No hardware more needful In carpenter's rack; No humblest of households, No person with knack, 14 Poems of No man of all trades Called, commonly, " Jack," But needs use a hammer In case of attack On lumber or burglar. On nail or on tack, x\nd ought to on people Who don't bring things back. My hammer! My hammer! Do, please, bring it back, And quiet this clamor, And clatter and clack. Get busy and find it. Get onto the track Of the person so heedless, So heartless and slack. With nerve monumental. Ingratitude black, Who borrowed my hammer And won't bring it back. Refrain : Bring back, bring back. Bring back my hammer to me, to me. Bring back, bring back, O, bring back my hammer to me. School and Life 15 VISIONS OF CHILDHOOD Dedicated to the Alumni of Franklin School April 10, 1912 r\ FT, the waves of retrospection In a swelling tidal-flow, Bring us visions of our childhood. In the Land of Long Ago. Always in the vision's foreground. Showing field, and woods, and dell, Stand the homestead old and sacred. And the school we love so well. Home, the paradise of childhood. And a world of joy and love. Home, by God and mother hallowed. Is akin to Heaven above. Long we gaze upon the picture, With its glorious vistas rare. Bent, as if to catch the voices. Of the dear ones gathered there. 16 Poems of Now, the vision, ever changing. Is a group of children gay; With them, are ourselves and playmates, At the games we used to play. Then with clamor of the school-bell, In its shuttered belfry tall. Little knots of players hasten To obey the ringing call. Bright and pleasing motion-picture. Always constant, ever new, — On they troop, the chatting bevys, Till the last dissolve from view. Shining eyes and faces comely Greet the teacher at her door; Cheery smile and nod responsive Help to " Con the lessons o'er.'' See them all absorbed in study, Down each busy row and aisle, Teacher patient and resourceful. Giving kindly aid the while. School and Life 17 Every room and former teacher, And each desk we occupied, See again, with loved companions. That are scattered far and wide. Now the march, the countermarching, And the mid-forenoon recess, Needed body-building practice. To offset the mental stress. Each recess, a maze of motion, And a rout of gleeful joys. Surging, ebbing, overfloAving, In a jubilee of noise. Mark the old contracted playgrounds, Fairly crowded to the doors , Used as now, for swarming hundreds, And not large enough for scores. See the awful day of judgment Coming tAvice in every year. When we writhe in fear and torment. Lest one dreaded word we hear. 18 Poems of When the final word is spoken, And we know our fate at last, Mountains from our souls are lifted, If that crucial word is " Passed/' Rose-bedecked, mid throngs assembled, Stand a happy, sad, array. Gazing, as to loftier summits. On their graduation day. Such are childhood's shadow-pictures. Thrown by memory on the screen, Scenes that man will ever cherish. Though long decades lie between. Ah ! those scenes, forever ended, Only vision can restore ; Would that we might live them over. In the Happy Land of Yore. School and Life 19 FORTY YEARS AGO To Edgar N. Wilson YOU'RE sixty today Old chum, so they say, Fd have sworn 'twas another, not you, But reckoning back In my almanac I am forced to admit that it's true. It seems that of late The annual rate Of the earth 'round the sun in the sky Is swifter than when We both were young men. And believed '* Tempus fugit '' a lie. How memory recalls Those classic old halls, Where we planned, forty summers ago, To each gain renown, Win wealth and a crown. And then banish from earth all its woe. 20 Poems of Rare learning and art Those halls could impart, But our percepts oft lacked of the truth, — Our limited view Unwittingly due To the twist in the vision of youth. Yet while we look back On youth and its lack, And its follies and foibles deplore, We'd cancel all claim To wealth and to fame. Just to drink of its fountains once more. As splendors unfold In crimson and gold, When the halo of morning appears. So glory imbues Our youth with its hues, When beheld through the lenses of years. ril never forget The tables we set. The menus that we used to prepare, — Mush cutlets frappe. Served three times a day Was the bill of our usual fare. School and Life 21 The room-stunts between The chef de cuisene And the scullion were portioned ahead; A turn at the book, — Then scullion or cook, — So our minds and our bodies were fed. Since then weVe been dined. And feted and wined, And though used to the best of the grill, We're ready to vote Our old table de hote With elixir of youth on the bill. You recollect when An old speckled hen, — She was just getting ready to set, — Went far, far away One tragical day, — Say, they're guessing about that hen yet. Remember the raid On our serenade. When the horse-fiddle bunch split the dawn, And how the next day The deuce was to pay, 'Cause the Profs held some watches in pawn? 22 Poems of One tragedy more Was brought to our door, When our poor little Allie was drowned. O ! void that was left, O ! circle bereft, O ! the voices of that silent mound ! Remember the week Of hide and go seek, When the blackboard was all painted green. And I was the goat, Till somebody wrote. And again my fair record was clean? 'Twas up in the grove. Where eloquence strove, Like the furies of Bedlam in rage, — At least, one would say. It sounded that way, When the prize speakers broke from their cage. A picture, I find Still clear in my mind. Is a sail in distress on the bay. One clings to the wreck, One, merged to the neck. Sees the other drift drily away. School and Life 23 'Tis here our ways part. But each with stout heart, Struggled on toward a goal steep and high. You topped the high steeps, With bounds and with leaps, — Far beneath on a ledge tarry I. My greetings to you, Old comrade and true. As your sixtieth mile circles by. Long keep you the knack Of hammering back, And the old snappy glint of the eye. You'll need them to fend The jostling trend Of the oncoming resolute horde. Who fight as we fought, Disheartened by naught, Up the mountains we both have explored. 24 Poems of YOUR DIARY npOMORROW will not know Today, Unless, before its flight, We all its happenings survey, And fix in '' black and white.'' Nor will Tomorrow truly come, Nor ever did, nor can. Unless Today's accomplished sum Include Tomorrow's plan. So, therefore, it Avere well to keep A day-book of events, In which Posterity may peep For valued evidence, — A book of deeds, details, and dates, Recorded as they run. With duties that one contemplates, And those, alas, undone, — A chronicle of hopes and dreams. In which the heart lies bare. With sentiments on endless themes Unveiled most freely there. So, when life's shadows longer creep, And days go flying fast. From out this book you'll richly reap A harvest from the past. X'mas, 1914. School and Life 25 BANQUET OF SPORTSMEN A Novel Entertainment Tendered by Prof. John D. Wilson to His Friends A banquet, which was unique in many ways, was held recently at the home of Principal John D. Wilson. Each summer and fall for some years the same little crowd of ardent sportsmen has visited the fastnesses of the North Woods in search of game and fish. They have shared one another's cabins and tramped many a mile over the trails together. To these men and to several of his fellow teachers the banquet was given. The men appeared in the same old hunting togs that they have worn on so many expeditions and around which cluster many pleasant memories. The even- ing was spent in recounting stories, and each vouches for their truthfulness. Charles E. White acted the part of toastmaster and in introducing several of the speakers of the evening used the fol- lowing verses, each bearing some allusion to a former event: 26 Poems of TpHERE was a piscatorial son of a gun, Who'd start on the run, At first peep of sun, And, while he enjoyed his favorite fun, Would always remember some Archaic pun To spring on the boys, when his fishing was done. But no other fisherman ever begun To equal the catch of this son of a gun, Nor the piscatorial yarns that he spun. Response, J. O. Adams. A tale of the huntsman, bold and true, Of his skill and prowess and might, Who eight and twenty wild animals slew. In a single tempestuous night. This story's related by one who was there : Believe him without any check, For he never imbibes, I've heard him de- clare, 'Cause it always goes to his neck. Response, B. M. Watson. In Bartholomew's hole, A big trout snatched his bait And gave it a terrible yank ; Over his shoulder he threw his old rod. School and Life 27 Across the green pasture he clawed up the sod With a sixteen-inch trout in his wake. A}^ ! the North Woods, whose pure skies Were never stained with city smoke, The fragrant air that through them flies Is breathed from balsam, spruce and oak. Ay ! the log camp nestling there Close guarded by its forest screens. Oh ! the camper's hungry blare, '' Hey there, Clements, pass the beans ! '' Response, Clements Blodgett. There are no pleasures H^lf so sweet, As when good jolly fellows meet. Who long have struggled side by side In life's insistent surging tide. Who know each other through and through, And trust and love each other too. Response, W. H. Scott. Through the same forest trails weVe tramped. By the same crystal spring we've camped, 28 Poems of Beneath the same bark shack weVe crept, On the same balsam mattress slept. WeVe learned each other's joys to share. Each other's woes weVe helped to bear. Response, G. A. Dakin. On Lige's lake, A boat we take. And paddle out To fish for trout. At length we stop, The anchor drop, And vainly try The beauties shy To fascinate With tempting bait, Which they despise, To our surprise. I in the stern. He takes his turn To row the boat To spot remote, With likelihood. The fishing's good. Reels in his line. School and Life 29 I also mine. With shoulders square. And muscles bare, His giant stroke The waves provoke, And waters boil. At each recoil. He talks of trees, The sky, the breeze, Grips hard the ash For brilliant dash. And, for that lake. Will records break. With might and main, With tug and strain, To win the race His muscles brace. React, expand, With vigor grand. Though hard the work, He's not a shirk. And not the stuff To cry enough. 30 Poems of The term defeat Is obsolete, — Unknown in strife Of strenuous life. He bends his back For fresh attack, And smites the wave With valor brave, Till timbers creak. And row-locks shriek, And tremors steal Along the keel. His voice is hushed. His face is flushed, His garments wet With steaming sweat, Which trickling rolls From crown to soles. Alas, 'tis vain. His powers wane, He's reached the length Of human strength. He bowed his head At last, and said, " By Gosh ! old pard , This boat rows hard." School and Life 31 His pard looked aft Behind the craft, Beheld a trail Like comet's tail, Of liquid mud Lashed to a flood. He gently said, As on they sped, " You Gol Darn Clown, The anchor's down ! '' Response by A. Burr Blodgett. THE CREATION E^RE creation's dawn was summoned From a long chaotic night, By majestic voice of thunder, That proclaimed, '' Let there be light,' Ere creation was begun. Where were sea, and earth, and sun? Where those glistening orbs of light. That illuminate the night? Where, th' organic life that woke, When the great Creator spoke? 32 Poems of Whence those countless atom units Of all types and shapes diverse, Whose assembling formed the matter Of this wondrous universe? What preceded nature's birth, — With no firmament, no earth? — Naught but empty nothingness, — Black, abysm^al, matterless, — Naught but shoreless, yawning space, — Mere duration, without place. What mysterious alembic Could distil the atmosphere. And the clouds that cap the mountains, And the rain-drops, cool and clear? Whence the rainbow which renews Kingly pledges in its hues? What receptacle could keep All the waters of the deep? What gigantic master-mold Could the continents enfold? In all countries, climes, and ages. Since the human race began, Questions thus have been propounded, By investigating man. School and Life 33 Ever peering o'er the rim Of the distant and the dim, He has failed to comprehend '*No beginning, and no end" ; Failed, life's origin to learn, Cosmic sources to discern. But man's bold, persistent striving The impossible to probe. Has revealed a thousand secrets Of this great revolving globe, — Of its motions and its form, Of its lightning and its storm. Where the floods of ocean stray. Why the needle points the way. How the moon and sun decide The progressions of the tide. He can measure distant planets. Tell their orbits and their years, And compute their due conjunctions With the other starry spheres ; — Know their rings and satellites. Their respective days and nights,— Their dimensions and their weight. And the laws that regulate The mysterious 'tractive force Which controls their whirling course. 34 Poems of He has learned the concrete structure Of our planet's curving crust; That its undulating surface, Naked once of soil or dust, Was a heated rocky shell, On Avhich mortal could not dwell, — Wrapped in clouds of vaporous gas, And enveloping a mass Of archaian plastic rock. Quaking with volcanic shock. From the cooling and contraction, That in sequence did ensue, Little folded, granite wrinkles Into mountain ranges grew ; And the earth-crust's thickening clasp, Holding them in Titan grasp , As the shrinking earth grew cold, Reared aloft those systems bold, Whose serrated, vast extent Frame-works every continent. 'Gainst those continental masses, Surging in seismic tide. Thundered vast tumultuous oceans, From their basins deep and wide. School and Life 35 And the fury of the shocks Ground to dust the coastal rocks; And the rivers from the land Brought eroded silt and sand ; And this mass near beaten shore Settled on the ocean floor. Settled, sank, through unknown ages, Neath the ocean — settling still, — Constantly the powdered rock-waste, From the shore, the plain, the hill. Horizontal layers, ranged. Back to rock again were changed, With sea-creatures in their shells, Prisoned in their fossil cells. Thus was formed a stony page Of the ancient manless age. By convulsive throes of nature, Lands were plunged beneath the waves, And long submerged areas lifted From their oceanic graves. Many hills with lofty heads. Cradled once in ocean beds. Many times submerged have been, Many times thrust out again. And the period of each stage May have been a countless age. 36 Poems of We may know how life developed Through the ages following on From the minute protozoa To the giant mastodon. We may trace the glacier's path And the ice-berg's aftermath; We may find in rocks and caves Mute inhabitants of the waves ; And on ancient seashores trace Foot-prints of an unknown race. We may read antique inscriptions Of the animal and plant, Of great eras and transitions, Long preserved in adamant; But we halt in mute amazement. And with bowed, uncovered head, Contemplate the awful vastness Of the pages still unread, — And with reverence con these lessons Of life's brief and feeble span, The immensity of creation And the littleness of man. School and Life 37 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL NINE \X/'ITH try-outs completed, The players all picked By the Juvenile Judges Whom none contradict; With ball-suits, from stockings To cap, all complete. Giving boys an appearance More slouchy than neat; With mits and protectors Selected with care, The identical outfit The big-leaguers wear; The Nine take the diamond, An eye to first place, And a fine resolution Writ large in each face. Big letters emblazoned. Across every breast, Spell the school they will fight for Against all the rest; In clean competition Will ever contend For their own Alma Mater, Her fame to extend. 38 Poems of The season has opened, Two nines are at play, And the pitcher shoots teasers. That fade, fade away, — So skillfully mixing The high ones and wide. That he tallies three strikeouts, Retiring the side. The Outs take their inning, — The batter in place Hammers out a neat single. And reaches first base. He tries to steal second. Midst clamor and shout, But a well-fielded double Puts both runners out. Next batter can't solve them. And wildly strikes three; — Naught and naught the first inning, All scorers agree. And so, till the last one, The battle is fought. Not a run made by either,- — The score naught and naught. School and Life 39 But now something happens, A shriek of delight, As the ball is sent soaring Way out over right. He fumbles ! He drops it ! Deep groans are now heard, And before it is fielded The runner's on third. Some bunts are attempted, And squeeze-plays begun, For the In's are determined To bring home that run. One snubs to first-baseman, — A scoop-up and tag, — '* Runner's out,'' but the other Remains on third bag. The next rolls a grounder Down close to third base, — '* Safe at first," but the other Is held in his place. Last runner steals second, — 'Tis really no sin, — But the catcher ignores it, '' That run might come in." 40 Poems of Up steps a game hitter, Pure grit in his eye, And he hits a sky-scraping, Magnificent fly. A hush that is painful, — All eyes on the ball, — 'Tis a heart-breaking moment,— Where, where, will it fall? Like Mercury poising. One arm flung above. So the leaping left-fielder Lifts skyward his glove. The ball descends swiftly, — A curving white band Like the sweep of a rocket, Right into his hand. Such volleys of cheering. No pen can portray. Every friend and opponent Applauding the play. But look ! The fleet sprinters ! A foot-race with fate ! One for third, and the other Attempting the plate. School and Life 41 A throw to third baseman That run may prevent, But with force and precision The ball must be sent. Already 'tis whizzing Like arrow from bow, — Like a demon the speedy Young sprinter must go. "Now catch it, third baseman !'' '' Swing downward and back. But the sprinter dives under And touches the sack ; — That instant the other Slides home with a shout, — Then a catch by the pitcher, And three men are out. Last half of last inning, — Three down, and no run, — The struggle is over, — The score naught and one. Clean play and good-fighting. Have marked a great game, And the boys have won pleasure. True manhood, and fame. 42 Poems of All strive for the winning, With main and with might, Each scoring a triumph. If clean in his fight. More gain fighting fairly, And not giving up. Winning backbone and courage, Than winning the cup. To be fairly beaten Is not a disgrace. It serves but to quicken A rapider pace. To gain by foul playing May capture the game, But the winning brings only Dishonor and shame. Baseball helps the vision. The judgment, the will; It gives the boys courage, Precision, and skill. Each game is a fitting For actual life. Its strain, and its struggle, Its conflict, and strife. School and Life 43 THE TEACHER'S DAILY SCHEDULE T^O charm the throbbing life of eager buoyant youth, And guide the fitful steps along the paths of truth ; To stir the restless heart with promptings sweet, and pure, That keep the soul unsoiled from Evil's deadly lure; To point the wistful eye to countless wond- ers rare In earth, in sea, in sky, in nature every- where ; To waken keener joys in striving to attain, That quickens dormant life in body, heart, and brain; To fan the kindling zeal, and spur the hot desire That mounts to highest steeps, on wings that never tire ; To tame the lawless will, to check the way- ward thought. With patience, wisdom, love ; — 'Twas thus the Master taught. 44 Poems of A GOOSE TALE A STUPID old goose Once started a school For all the spring goslings about. The goslings, let loose From motherly rule, In flufifiest frocks. Came trooping in flocks, With hurry and scurry and rout. The biggest were dark. The tiniest light, And yellow or brown were they all; But never a mark By which you could quite With safety declare What colors they'd wear When fashions would change in the fall. With leggings of tan, And gaiters the same, Their real union suits were complete, And when they all ran In some gosling game, 'Twas funny to see How wobbly they'd be In handling their legs and their feet School and Life 45 So each little blonde. Brimful of delight, Would hasten to school every day, And splash in the pond Till time to recite; Then promptly at nine Would waddle in line Way down a long hall to Room A. And what could they do? Learn lessons and grow — That's always the way with the young. Learn languages, too. Or how could they know The Mother Goose rhymes They sang times and times In seemingly some foreign tongue? How could they recite Those melodies old. Unless they could spell, read and sing? Of course they could write With flourishes bold, — Was not the quill pen, So useful to men. First plucked from a gray goose's wing ? 46 Poems of Learn history? Yes. — Goose annals portray, Their glory in war and in peace, All peoples confess, A proud city one day. Her foes lurking near, With arrow and spear, Was saved by the cackling of geese. Though told to be good, They often were bad From nine until quarter to four. TheyVi eat all the food There was to be had, Then guzzle for bugs. And tadpoles and slugs. And still they would gabble for more. The goose teacher tried To mend their bad ways And plied them with useful goose lore; She'd tickle their pride, She'd threaten and praise, She'd flap her great wings To scare the poor things. Till goose pimples covered them o'er. School and Life 47 '' Your heads are too small, Your crops too immense/' She'd rail in dis-par-age-ment strong. " YouVe no wit at all And not enough sense Sufficient to get In out of the wet, Where good little goslings belong. They'd shrink when she'd storm, Look sweet when she smiled. Cut up if she just turned her back. At recess they'd swarm, As if they were wild. Across the mud pond And way off beyond. Returning all draggled and black. " I'll close up this school," She finally said; " You goslings will give me no peace. I've been a great fool. Or out of my head. To work as I've wrought. To teach as I've taught. Such brainless, unteachable geese.'*^ 48 Poems of '' I know well enough," She said in great heat, '' You never will learn any more. You just want to stuff, And guzzle and eat, And draggle your clothes. And muddy your toes, And traipse away off to explore. '* Next Christmas you'll be Quite heavy and fat, And fitted for lovely goose pies. Your parents will see Hereafter to that. Yd feather your wings For loftier things — But now you must say j^our good-byes. They coaxed and they plead — The teacher stood firm, In spite of their tears and their cries. They curtsied and fled. And finished the term At home with their mas And doting papas. And lastly, in Christmas goose pies. School and Life 49 'Tis shown by this tale That gosUngs are queer — That teachers, who do not obey Dame Nature, will fail, However sincere ; And pupils that shirk Their proper school work Will rue it at some future day. A TRIBUTE TO GIBSON A MAN with a square and a resolute tread, As he happens along on the street, Whose countenance beams with the tinc- tures of red, As he siezes your hand, when you meet, Who shows you his heart in a straight-for- ward glance With a good-natured twink of the eye. Who adds to your joy by a friendly ad- vance. Your regret by a friendly good bye : — That's Gibson. 50 Poems of You see by the masterful poise of his head, He's a man that is sure of his ground, And centered as true as a plummet of lead, For he's sane and up-standing and sound. You find him a man of rich personal worth. With a soul and a character clean. You label him one of the salt of the earth, Neither crooked, nor little, nor mean. That's Gibson. His virtues are many, his weaknesses few, Such a feeble, diminutive part. They're lost in the manifold qualities true. That abound in his generous heart. His friends, they are legion, deservedly won, And his absence they deeply deplore. They give him in chorous a hearty " Well done," With a long and a hearty encore. That's Gibson. After two years : A knight of the road, with his grip-sack and kit. Very calm and nonchalant of air. School and Life 51 Awinning his way by his pluck and his wit, And the charm of a smile debonair. A book-fight he'll scent across valleys and hills, And he'll hie to the scene of the fray, Unlimber that smile, and project a few- thrills, Make a killing at once, and away. That's Gibson. These lines partially embody my find- ings, after an intimate, and a very delightful acquaintance, covering a period of eight years, during which time we never came to blows. Syracuse, N. Y., Jan. 28, 1912. 52 Poems of A TRIBUTE FROM GIBSON The following undeserved tribute was dedicated to the author on the occasion of the twenty-fifth anniversary of his principal- ship of Franklin School, by his friend, Mr. Charles S. Gibson. HE high borne torch which lights a soul To shine among the sons of men Too soon expires, but flame will roll, And, lightning others, live again. E'en as the lights shine out afar To guide the wandering vessel's path, The teacher marks each rock and bar Which every youthful voyage hath. The restless waves about us fret. And angry storms of trouble roar; But we love one who never yet Has put a false light on the shore. Good Father Time has spared this one. That near and far and young and old, May set a silver crown upon The brow above a heart of gold. School and Life 53 Kind leader, friend, and playmate too, Of all of us assembled here, We but return the tribute due To man, and work, and life sincere. Accept our simple praises then ; Your work thus far is all well done ; And, having served your fellow men. Your crown is nobly, — nobly won. Syracuse, April 10, 1912. SUNSET Read at a meeting of teachers in memory of Superintendent A. B. Blodgett. npHE sun is set, And Nature droops beneath the pall of night, And all is dark, and cold, and still, Save in the dimly glowing west, Where lingering glories seem to rest A space, and then to pale, and fade, And vanish in nocturnal shade. Till naught of cheer is left to mortal view. 54 Poems of Soon stealing through the gloom of night, There beams a mild, insistent light, Up, past huge bulks of mountain bars, Up, even to the distant stars. Which, one by one, in twinkling beauty, wake In blaze and sheen. Until the vast and vaulted screen Is all agleam from light of sun, EVn though the sun is set. So, each benignly glimmering ray, That shines adown the dreary way, 'Twixt star-lit sky and shadowed earth. Is but a smile of benediction. Beaming from the absent sun. For though 'tis set, Those twinkling guardians of the night In million-pointed mirrored light Flash penciled tidings of good cheer. That night shall wane and disappear, And then shall dawn the promised glories Of another day. School and Life 55 THE MEN'S CLUB Dedicated to the Men's Club of Chautau.- qua, N. Y. HP HEY'RE men of good parts, Good habits, and hearts. Men that struggle, achieve, and attain. And they hail from all sections. And points, and directions. From the Mexican border to Maine. Men weary of mind, Unnerved by the grind Of the counting room, mill or the press. Tired judges, and teachers. Attorneys and preachers. Who have fled from the fag and the stress. They rest and they smoke. Write letters and joke, And discuss the late telegraph news ; Nothing's done in the nation. Or all of creation. But arouses their varying views. A shift in the scheme, May alter the theme To the pulpit, the platform, the play ; And 'tis safe to conjecture. 56 Poems of Play, sermon or lecture Is reviewed in a fair-minded way. They gallantly stand, And give the glad hand, When the ladies, God bless 'em, are there. With their manifold graces. To witness the races, Or the flying man, soaring in air. Play games? bless you, yes, Both checkers and chess, With a challenge forever unfurled ; But though giants contending, With great issues pending. They're the quietest sports in the world. There's golf and there's roque, For those with the stroke. There is tennis of cup-winning class ; There are ball games and bowling, And muscalonge trolling And engagements with big yellow bass. Their friendships grow strong As time speeds along, And they're wiser, and happier too ; They'll return to their stations, With new aspirations. And the vigor to carry them through. August 29, 1913. School and Life 57 GREETINGS TO AN OCTOGENARIAN Dedicated to Mr. F. F. Adams, Erie, Pa., on the eighty-second anniversary of his birth, August 6, 1912, by Chas. E. White, assistant secretary Men's Club, Chautauqua, N. Y. /^REETINGS from Chautauqua's shore In a hundred streams outpour On our friend with heart so young, And so rare a grace of tongue, — Greetings, comrade, tried and true. As you reach four score and two. Like some tall and sturdy oak. Scarred by storm and lightning stroke. You've withstood, while others failed. Every fury that assailed, By the might of self control. And the fiber of your soul. Your good, quaint, uncommon sense, And your lack of all pretense, — Kindly spirit, void of guile. And the sunshine of your smile, — These, and other goodly parts Have enthroned you in our hearts. 58 Poems of Circled now by friends and kin, Gladsome greetings pouring in, Love, unfeigned, which you surprise Beaming out from friendly eyes. Are, in part, but well-earned meeds Of your life of golden deeds. May your years continue long In the atmosphere of song, ]\Iay the current of your days Flow in green and peaceful ways. And the channel of your hopes Find the warm and pleasant slopes. AN ALLEGORY OF LIFE Written on the occasion of the Golden Wedding anniversary of Mr. and Mrs. Val- entine Schilly, 1904. npWO glistening raindrops fell one day. From the clouds that were sweeping by ; One dropped in the west, and one away, Neath a darkening eastern sky. Each one gave a kiss of greeting glad To the earth which was parched and sere, That tinted the flowerets pale and sad With flushes of hope and cheer. School and Life 59 And myriad other raindrops too Hurried down in pattering scuds, Till trickling tiny streamlets grew, And became little rioting floods, Now leaping a terraced mountain side. Over many a stony crest. Now creeping down through meadows wide. As if haply each brooklet guessed It carried a precious drop of joy. Singled out for a happy fate. Attended by nymphs and elfins coy, And a sailing to meet its mate. And blithely murmered the streams adown The devious riverward slopes. Through western plain, through eastern town. With their burdens of joys and hopes. One happy day, where rivulets meet. And a turbulent river form. Two currents frought with tribute sweet Are immersed in its billows warm. 60 Poems of And here, the drop from the distant west, And the one from the east away Are wedded upon the river's breast, Midst a sea-maidens' roundelay. United, they dance their way along In ripples of rapturous glee, xAnd catch the lilt of the river's song, As it wafts them on toward the sea. They wander lovingly side by side In the storm or the sunset glow, And, cradled upon the throbbing tide. Feel the lull of its ceaseless flow. They circle the pebbly wave-washed shore. Intoning their rippling thanks. And whispering love tales o'er and o'er, In the shadows of reedy banks. Through eons of time they swiftly glide. Over thousands of blissful miles, And ever do faith and love abide In the charm of their limpid smiles. School and Life 61 The broadening river's fuller brim, And the slackening force of its flow, The distant horizon's hazy rim , And the salty breezes that blow, All tell of a golden jubilee, Where the waters of every clime Again shall join with the swelling sea, In a symphony grand, sublime. Our lovers now may tranquilly rest. In the joys they have journeyed to gain, Enfolded on the billowy breast Of the vast and fathomless main. And gently out on the ebbing tide. They wHU peacefully sail away. While nymphean wavelets safely guide Where the outgoing currents stray. And far from the beetling, hereward shore, When their golden voyage is done, On vapory wings they'll calmly soar. And be merged in the golden sun. 62 Poems of Thus peacefully glide their waning days, And in joy may they still abide. Caressed by the sunset's lingering rays, As they sail away on the tide. THE SCHOOLMASTER^S REWARD Written in memory of H. Frank Miner "D ACK through twenty changing summers, turn we now with hearts bowed low. On a light which though extinguished, sheds a radiant afterglow, Quickening our saddened visions, with its mellow, hallowed rays, Calling back through deep perspective, images of other days. See again at manhood's portal, one with clear and kindly eye, Undertake his chosen mission, moved by inspiration high. See his first unaided struggles, as up ragged steeps he fights ; And again as time advances, mounting still to loftier heights. School and Life 63 See him rise amongst his fellows, stand the peer of any one, Able, learn-ed, wise, progressive, honored, for achievements done. Hear again his voice in council, speaking down the misty years Helpful words of ripest precept, welcomed oft' by waiting ears. Now the well beloved brother, ever courteous, manly, true, — Now the self-poised, tactful teacher molding minds and hearts anew. How he wakes the erring spirit, to a willing sense of right. As he flashes gems of wisdom, in the luring gleams of light. Rousing motives, high, self-active, and new joys, that victors feel, Fanning feebler flames of effort, till their gleams the joys reveal. See in all his tireless toiling, how both love and duty blend. In the justice of the master, and the kindness of the friend. 64 Poems of In his high yet humble calling, long and earnestly he strives, Not to win applause or riches, but to quicken others' lives ; Not to tread the path of glory, in which men achieve renown, But to help lift up the ladder, by which others reach the crown. He has touched the lives of thousands, with a manhood strong and pure. That shall waken high endeavor, long as ages shall endure ; This, more worth than bronze and granite, living monument shall be To his life of deeds and duty, unto all eternity. April 8, 1905. School and Life 65 DIRE PUNISHMENT /^N Friday P. M. we're going to see How many of un-reproved pupils there'll be, And these may go early, to frolic and play, The others, meanwhile, will just have to stay. And those who get foolish and won't do their work. But just want to dawdle, or play, or to shirk, They also will tarry, for much needed rest. While the others go early, for doing their best Monday, Dec. 6, 1909. • 66 Poems of CLASS SONG "D EGRETFULLY, sadly, we linger to-day Reviewing our rosiest years, Illumined and haloed in gladsome array, Through lenses of glistening tears. With giants weVe battled, within and without, And fortune has honored our shields. But ever, though compassed by duty about, We have roamed through Elysian fields. O ! Halcyon days, thy enchantments are o'er. Our dear Alma Mater, farewell. With hand clasping hand, and with hearts that are sore. Our own sad good-byes we must tell. Each, now and alone, toward the future must face. And challenge its smiles and its meed, Upborne by the zeal, and the courage, and grace, That ever to victory lead. School and Life 67 REMINISCENCES Read at a meeting of the Syracuse School- masters' Club, held in honor of William A. Scott and Bruce M. Watson, on their retire- ment from service in the Syracuse schools, June, 1908. TPWO decades bridge the lapse of years, Alas, too quickly gone, Since first in cordial fellowship, Our very souls were drawn. A goodly few, a single aim, And wont full oft to meet. Our faith grew strong, our friendship staunch. Our brotherhood complete. Each in his own especial field. Found duty fraught with care, And tense with unabating strain. He conquered dragons there. He essayed human problems vast, That puzzle every age. And dared to challenge doctrines old Of sophist and of sage. 68 Poems of On many a pleasant outing jaunt We'd cast our cares away, And recreate in shameful glee, Like schoolbays out at play. We'd often play the game of " Scrub,' Or even " Two old Cat," And then again hold tournaments Of ten-pins and all that In wordy contests, each would seek To turn the other's point, And find with keen polemic sword His weakest armor joint. No quarter ever given or asked. The victor claimed the crown, Perhaps to yield another day, And find himself cast down. But when around the banquet board. The air was charged with wit, That scintillated round our heads. And scorched and stung and bit; For banter met with repartee, In quick and ready flash, And none could 'scape the badinage. And none the whistling lash. School and Life 69 We, side by side, 'gainst giants fought, And cheered each sturdy blow, That struck aside a hostile blade. Or laid a foeman low. We rallied to each others' aid In single conflict pressed. But n^ver, save in friendly bout. Assailed a friendly breast. But one sad day, the summons came, As come to all it must. And Ansel Kinne, pure of heart, Was numbered with the just; Well learned and kind, companion rare, As jovial as grave. From richest stores of heart and mind He ever freely gave. Next EdAvard Smith, toil-worn and spent, By years of earnest strife. Laid down his cares and sought the peace, Well-earned, of quiet life. A veteran of fifty years. The Nestor of us all. May peace and quiet still be his Until he hear his call. 70 Poems of Once more death comes into our midst, With dread, imperious hand, And now Bruce White, long well beloved, Receives the stern command. No one with more of manly grace Achieved the end he sought. Nor won more laurels to his brow. For highest service wrought. At last the soldier pedagogue Obtains his heart's desire, A mind care-free, a western ranch. Why shouldn't he retire? Scott risked his life in the Civil War, To guard our country's shrine. And still in peace is always found Upon the firing line. Accept this tribute, comrade true. As from your dearest foes. Who've fraternized and fought with you. And felt your iron blows. We'll think of you whene'er we see Old Glory in the sky. We love it more, because of you. Farewell, old friend, good bye. School and Life 71 *' Give us a leader/' comes the call, From the mountains far away, And Watson steps out from the ranks, And hastens to obey. Distinction, honor, and renown, To be selected thus ; Our hearts, though sore, expand with pride. That he is one of us. The scholar, author, genius rare. With clear judicial brain. Has mounted high above our heads. And reached the topmost plane. God speed you, brother, in your field Of higher, broader scope. And give you friends, and give you joy, On the Rockies' western slope. We'll miss the old, but still extend Our friendship to the new. Kind fortune, haply, send us men As broad, as kind, as true. Stand closer, Adams, Barrett, now In new formation stand. Stand closer, Lewis ,till you feel The touch of a brother's hand. 72 Poems of Stand closer, yours may be the hand To ward some dire defeat. Now more than ever be the bond Of fellowship complete. Stand closer, Blodgett, Wilson, Wickes, United firm and fast, That we may feel the old time thrill Of contact to the last. REMINISCENCES Six Years After TPHE years have taken heavy toll Since that eventful day, When Scott and Watson said good-bye And each went on his way. Bruce Watson's star shines o'er him yet, But brighter, higher still. Success and merited renown Have proved his wonted skill. Poor Scott, away but one short year. Came back and sank to rest. We bore him sadly to his grave, The flag upon his breast. School and Life 73 Now Edward Smith, four score and ten, Falls peacefully asleep — Again we bear the silent form, And generations weep. Burr Blodgett, loved and honored chief, His heart so big and kind, His life with ours so many years So closely intertwined, Alas, now lays his burdens down At his Creator's will. His great warm heart, his smiling eyes, His lips forever still. A teeming city long had felt The guidance of his hand ; His voice was heard in council mongst The ablest of the land ; And thousands now revere his name Along our busy marts, His type of righteous manliness Imprinted on their hearts. John Wilson, prince of manly men, Our mentor and our friend. At work today, tomorrow gone, So swift, so sad the end. 74 Poe?ns of He delved in Nature's treasure vaults, Found inert life in stone, And wrested secrets from the rocks No man had ever known. We miss the lore from Nature's book, He culled but to dispense ; We miss his pungent epigrams, His quaint uncommon sense ; We miss the tramps through wood and field, The city far behind. The joy of his companionship, The uplift of his mind. Once more the archer wings his shaft. And Ouincy Adams falls. His spirit loved the highland woods, Unvexed by city walls ; And oft in exaltation there, His lyric soul would Avake And breathe out those immortal rhymes Of crag, and burn, and lake. With him we've trailed the forest lakes, We've leaped the mountain streams, And reveled in untrammeled joys Beyond the poet's dreams. School and Life 75 Those legend heroes touched his life And nerved his telling blows, But never knight had knightlier heart, Nor chieftian fewer foes. We are but four, old Guard. Close ranks, As ever firm and near. That we may feel the friendly touch, While yet we linger here. Goodbye dear old departed friends. We miss you oft and sore, But fairer now is Paradise Than ever 'twas before. SCHOOL AND LIFE CERIOUS, rosy-cheeked, tidy, and trim. Troop on the little folks, sturdy of limb, Eager, expectant, and chattering throng, Proudly, exultingly, trudging along. Foot-steps and heart throbs in unison beat Rhythmic responses, as cadences sweet Peal from a bell, whose musical call Brings a first welcome to school for them all. 76 Poems of Roseate morning, most anxiously sought, Teeming with hope, and with destiny fraught, Penciled with every beautiful hue, Promiseful, thrilling, resplendent and new. Brightest of all days, the first day of school. Pleasant the lesson, not irksome the rule. Laurels to win, other worlds to explore. Quicken new energies, dormant before. Tactfulness, wisdom and fostering care, Lovingly lighten the burdens they bear, Prompt them to willingly strive with tlieir might, Sweeten their strivings with joy and delight. Potent the charm, that doth sweetly compel Joy and delight by its magical spell. Making the school an enchanting retreat. Under the sway of a power so sweet. Study and play the days routine comprise, Each has a lack which the other supplies ; — Study is sweeter with pleasure alloyed. Even the play is more keenly enjoyed. School and Life 77 Music commingling with study and play Adds a new charm to the joy of each day ;— 'Triend of the pleasures, of Wisdom the aid," Music, an ally of virtue is made. Friendships undying, and precious, and strong, Gladden the years as they hasten along. Life will bring friends that will flatter and please, None more enduring, more hallowed than these. Gladly the round of the school work is done. Term after term proud promotions are won : — Half-hearted trying which hampers the soul. Yields to the joy of self-prompted control. Pleasures of self-willing effort incite Higher ambition, more venturesome flight Into the regions of learning and truth. Buoyed by the vigorous tonic of youth. Difficult duties but feed the desire Others to master; in turn these inspire 78 Poems of Lofty endeavors, more masterful quest, Waged with new vigor, and keenness of zest. Happy those busy and fast-flying years, Brimming with joys, intermingled wnth fears. Soon m.ust the scene of the struggle and strife Change to the field of the battle of life. Fruitful the years that have hastened away, Since that eventful and promiseful day — Day that the little folks heeded so well When they first answered the welcoming bell. Little no longer, more tall and more wise, Resolute, purposeful light in their eyes, Proudly, regretfully, hand clasping hand. Facing the beckoning future, they stand. Day of commencement is ushered at last, Dawn of a future, on-reaching and vast. Day, not of triumph for victories won, But a preparing for greater, begun. Ended forever, those joy laden years. Loving good-byes are said sadly with tears. School and Life 79 Sundered and scattered, with separate aim, Each for himself seeking fortune or fame. Some with the pinions of eagles uprise, Sighting their goal in the high vaulted skies. Others like gems of the ocean serene, Choose to sequester their talents unseen. Laboring on in scholastic pursuit. Some win degrees and most hotly dispute Honors, 'gainst men of the highest renown, Winning preferment, and seizing the crown. Some choose the law and are classed with the great. Standing for justice with wisdom and weight ; Some, the sweet power of healing possess, Living, to succor, to save, and to bless. Some from the pulpit, God's mercies proclaim, Teaching right-living and love in his name, Loudly rebuking the sin that is rife. Showing the way, the truth and the life. Knowing relations of thought to the ink. Some, through the press compel thousands to think. 80 Poems of Thus with the school and the pulpit they vie, Lifting the torch of enlightenment high. Back to the school some, with quickening pace. Fully-fledged teachers their footsteps retrace — Take up their duties most vital and vast. Giving the future the lore of the past. Some, their young lives to their country devote, Shielding her honor afield and afloat. Come, Avhen contentions in victory cease. Back to more glorious triumphs of peace. Triumphs o'er wrong, in fierce battles for right — Self to be conquered by self in the fight, Harder than black-visaged war is the strife. Longer the siege, ending only with life. Counter, and desk, and the shop, and the trade. Tempting inducements to many have made ; School and Life 81 Faithful and honest, they steadily earn Trust and promotion, in ready return. Some, seeking fortune with rapider pace, Start for themselves in the mercantile race. Some who possess the dramatical gift Seek through this talent mankind to uplift. Cupid, not idle, loves ever to sit, Viewing the Gordian knots that are knit, Guiding the weave of the separate strands, Making them firmer than strong iron bands. Many a union has thus been arranged, Many conditions of freedom exchanged, All for that bondage, no other above — Hallowed, delectable bondage of love. Now, in the schoolroom are found here and there Promising urchins, with bright sunny hair, Who, when their sweet childish glances bestow, Seem to look back from the sweet Long Ago, 82 Poems of Through the fond eyes of their parents before, Whom, with affection we cherished of yore, Forms, how familiar, yet lesser in size, Faces, a little less grave and less wise. Let us remember those loved ones and true, Hid by the portals of sunset from view. Haply their spirits are hovering near, Drawn by the magnet impelling us here. Frankly our gratitude strives to confess Station, advancement, and growing success, Largely are due to the patience and care Lavished by teachers, in excellence rare, Freely on thousands, indifferent then, Thousands, now saying with voice and with pen. Honor, and love and rich blessing in showers Unto the souls that are mingled with ours. School and Life 83 FAREWELL, BILLY SUNDAY. \X/" E'RE heartbroken, Billy Sunday, That we may not see you more. You have brightened up our city. As it's never been before ; You have stirred the deeps of darkness Wiht a might that knows no fear, And youVe lit ten thousand corners With the good old gospel cheer. As the magnet sways the needle. So youVe swayed our people's hearts ; And their lips and lives proclaim it Boldly in our city marts. And in tens, and scores, and hundreds. Others flock to hear the Word, With such potency expounded As their ears have never heard. Some that come for entertainment, And the curious sense to please, With the luke-warm and backslidden Now are found upon their knees. And the scoffer's jests are silenced , And the critic's findings fail ; Both have seen you while in action, . . And are now upon the trail. 84 Poems of So, through days and weeks together, Spite of rain, or snow, or sleet. Multitudes, without abatement. Congregate with eager feet; Sit with waiting souls, and hungry. While you voice the message high, How to flee the wrath eternal, How to live and never die. Thus, the message boldy uttered. Day by day, and night by night. Has brought thousands to repentance — Out of darkness into light. Not from impulse, but conviction, Come the young, mid-aged and gray, As your heaven-prompted preaching Has revealed the narrow way . They may censure your dramatics. Your expressive slang decry, Your theology they question. Your biology deny; Still we love you, though the knockers Try to punch you full of holes — Wouldn't change you one iota — You have helped to save our souls. School and Life 85 You have kept the devil busy, Patching up his battered camps, And, a hundred times youVe soaked him, Square betv^^een his blooming lamps. We are with you, Billy Sunday, We're good devil-fighters, too. And we want to see a knock-out. And we'll help to put it through. Syracuse, December 21, 1915. NUTS TO CRACK. A SURFACE long, and broad and high, Adorned with painting grand. It may be Roosevelt, you or I — What nut for this will stand? An American once Did so many tough stunts. That they sent him John Bull to defeat- A gallant success — A president, U. S. — And they called him a nut that we eat. 86 Poems of Naiads at play, — Nymphs decollettes, — Elysium — summer girls — graces. Not enough clothes, Absence of woes, — What nut is the same as this place is? Some vegetables grow in the ground, Some others on bushes are found, And still others on long slender vines. Of the latter we can all we can can. And we eat all the rest that we can't can, — Now^ pray tell me what nut this defines. Goat, Billy, Stupid, silly. Not happy unless he can butt. Chiefiest sin, "Buttin in''— They call him the name of a nut. Some eyes are dove-like and mild. Some tiger-like glaring and wild — But eyes that I mean Are oftenest seen, School and Life 87 When the light Is just right, So you catch the particular hue Of a nut that's familiar to you. Foolish darkey, hoeing cawn, Sees a black snake sure's' you'r bawn. Cuts the head off with his hoe, — 'Twa'nt a snake, but his big toe. Now guess the nut, its name is hid, Dont hit the mark the darkey did. The Japanese maidens petite Are cute little brownies and neat. And they're witty and pretty and w4se. — Some nuts grow on trees That remind one of these, For the shape is the same as their eyes. Sweet hope and its pleasures. And dearest of treasures All stored in the locker of fate. — In collecting the trousseau, — (All young ladies do so, — Or most of them do soon or late,) 88 Poems of And crimson with blushes, By flits and by rushes, Invoke all enchantments that be In goblins and bats. And Hallow'een cats, And then give to Cupid the key. (In instances two, They say it is true That Cupid is kept pretty busy; But he's not to be blamed. If he hasn't been tamed By some of the others, now is he?) Out of all of this mess What nut is your guess? School and Life 89 MAN'S INHUMANITY TO MAN XT AN puts upon man A merciless ban, As he reaches the years of old age. The world blocks his path Curtails what he hath, And begrudges his place and his wage. The boy sits a throne. The world will condone All his deeds autocratic and bold, Acknowledge his sway. And fealty pay, For the promise the future may hold. A young man we laud, With charity broad. Not forgetting our own callow days. We bolster his need. We give him God-speed , And our precepts to counsel his ways. But man in his prime, Though truly sublime, And deserving all honor and trust. Is ever a mark For calumny dark, And the hostile and cowardly thrust. 90 Poems of Thus hampered he fights, Up desperate heights, For his wealth, or position or fame ; The same he must hold, 'Gainst devils grown bold. As the harrows of time mark his frame. "Put ^Sixty' away," Some scientists say, '*And all painlessly we will assist;" And ''vSixty" must fight. With over-tasked might. For the God-given right to exist. Unconquered to-day , To-morrow at bay. And at last to the dust overborne. — So wolves overpower. And rend, and devour. With no pity, their wounded and worn. When, crushed in the strife. He yields up his life. Then the world's golden praises are said; His memory, sweet. His manhood, complete. — Ah ! the old, we most cherish, are dead. School and Life 91 Begun by Prof. J. D. Wilson, Continued by Prof. C. E. White. Last week Principal Charles E. White of Franklin School received from Prof. John D. Wilson of Putnam School a letter on the weather in the form of a poem entitled "An Ode to Winter/' to which Principal White responded in kind. Both of these gentelmen know all about boys and their relations to winter, and each poem is exceedingly characteristic of the writer. — The Herald. AN ODE TO WINTER. J) EAR Professor White : What is it the Syracuse boy has to do? He must live like an Esk'mo without an igloo. He must ransack the cupboard to find a warm meal. Where there's not e'en the sight or the smell of a seal. He must eat pork and beans, and get fat as a lubber To keep but the cold, without whale oil or blubber. 92 Poems of He must crawl through deep snow on all fours ilke a frog, Without a swift whalebone sled, drawn by a dog. He must face piercing winds which do him great harm. Without a bear coat to keep himself warm. Old earth has turned over the zones have changed places. And jumbled the tribes and the peoples and races. With our bilzzards and sleet, the snow and the cold. We surely have Klondyke here, all but the gold. J. D. WILSON. TV/f Y Dear Professor Wilson : Not mentioning chaps, and pink-eye and grip, Frost-bitten ears and a crack in his lip, Chilblains, and gum-boils and snuffling nose And coughing the buttons all off from his clothes. School and Life 93 The hills and the ponds are under the snow, So, out of commission his sled and skates go; No chances for fun except when he digs A ring in the snow for the playing of migs. But Jack Frost insists on spoiling his fun, Because of the errands no other can run — After the tinkers of various stripes, To clean the old furnace, or thaw out the pipes. He runs till he's lame from top-knot to sole. And then cleans the sidewalk and shovels the coal. Such is the lot of the average boy, His hopes buried under, and frozen his joy. He's troubled in mind his body is sick. Himself he is ready to yield to Old Nick ; For nothing on earth robs Hell of its woe, Like a long zero winter with four feet of snow. CHARLES E. WHITE. 94 Poems of TO PROFESSORS WHITE AND WILSON A BOUT this grim winter, Fm sure you are wrong; You've misjudged the boy in your *' winter- some*' song. 'Tis true, in each month, there's been six weeks or more, But that made the room for the fun out of door. Bob rides have been plenty and ice w^as yards thick. That hurried the boy with his skates on a stick ; No danger of drowning — a blizzard is fun, 'Gainst the wind he is traveling, on a dead run; The frost-bitten ear, with the skin peeling off, To the boy is more fun, than the playing of golf. Don't say ''We're in Klondyke without any gold," The coal man, he has it, this story is old. School and Life 95 No pleasure like handing to him our hard chink, This winter is nothing but fun, we all think. The boy gets away and his sire cleans the walks, Whose chilblains and grip are the subject of talks ; This winter was nothing but sport for the boy, Thermometers dont' indicate frozen up joy. AN ONEIDA PRINCIPAL. Oneida, February 9th. 96 Poems of THE WEATHER IN ALABAM. Supreme Court of Alabama, Consultation Room, Montgomery. July 28, 1913. To the Men's Club, Chautauqua, N. Y. Gentlemen : T'M way down in Alabam' Where it's hot as "U-be-dam ;'' Here fish will fry without the pan ; Man pants and fans to keep cool if he can. Give my regards to all my club friends, and accept an abundance for your own cour- teous and obliging self. Yours truly, (Signed) J. J. MAYFIELD. School and Life 97 Reply to Judge Mayfield's poem. THE WEATHER IN CHAUTAUQUA. IIJ ERE the summer's never torrid, Seldom cold nor often horrid, — Frying fish in blazing sun At Chautauqua can't be done. Here the breezes ever play With the wavelets in the bay, And with soft and cool caress, Waft away our weariness. On Chautauqua's shady banks We devoutly ofifer thanks. That we're not in ''Alabam" Where 'tis hot as ''U-be-dam." In these classic groves we rest, In communion with the blest. While delights that never wane, Stir the heart, the soul, the brain. We affirm wnth proper grace, 'Tis a most enchanting place, — Charms the young, the men, the ladies, — Farthest spot on earth from Hades. 98 Poems of THE GOLDEN WEDDING. I> LESSINGS on you, goodly twain, As you reach the golden plain. You have lived your lives as one, Sweet and fruitful lives, begun When you, five decades ago Pledged your faith for weal or woe. Bright and blissful wedding day In life's balmy, budding May ! Love's sweet song the sweeter grows. All the world its joy bestows, E'en the breathing flow'rs employ Bloom and fragrance to your joy. Ah ! for love's sweet roundelay ! All too soon June follows May. Life's not all a honeymoon. Love has more than single tune ; Lessons new and lessons stern You must now begin to learn. Love, the lesson learned the best Renders easy all the rest; — Each the other's griefs to share. Each the other's burdens bear; Learn in harmony to live. Learn to trust and to forgive. School and Life 99 Learn to rest your faith in God, Though you feel His chastening rod. Learn affection to extend To your neighbor and your friend ; That your love and kindness earn Love and kindness in return. In a fierce but fond crusade Children now your home invade, And, with love's resistless spell. Seize its very citadel, And with strong but walling hands Bind you, heart, and brain, and hands. Added duties now befall. Added happiness, withal. For the darlings you outpour Love from never-ending store ; While for them it freely flows. For each other, stronger grows. Ah ! those happy fleeting years, Crowded full of love and tears, Full of toil and sacrifice. Yet, an earthly paradise. All the round of human bliss Has no sweeter charm than this. 100 Poems of As from parent nest astray, New-fledged birdlings Hy away, So, from out the ancestral home, One by one the dear ones roam ; xA.nd your benedictions flow Richly on them as they go. Lighter though the present cares. Doubly-burdened are your prayers. Though the ocean intervene Space impassable between. Though their fame be fair or ill, Boundless love enfolds them still. Happy years have sped along. Love now sings a newer song. Sings a mellow cheery tune, Gladdening life's afternoon. 'Tis your children's children's share In your all-embracing care. , Great-grand children now arrive. And the little elves contrive By the most delightful arts, Covertly to steal your hearts ; And, while these you love and bless. Love the others none the less. School and Life 101 Circled now by friends and kin, Gladsome greetings pouring in, Love unfeigned, that you surprise Shining out from glistening eyes, Are in part but well-earned meads Of your years of golden deeds. Love's environemnt began All that's excellent in man; Love, presiding on the throne, Love to God and man made known, Has to you in richness lent Peace, and honor, and content. May your years continue long In an atmosphere of song; May the current of your days Flow in green and peaceful ways, And the channel of your hopes Find the warm and pleasant slopes. March 16, 1903. In March, 1903, I had the pleasure of writ- ing the foregoing poem on the event of Mr. and Mrs. Robert M. Beecher's golden wed- ding. I was invited to the festivities, and 102 Poems of recited the poem there. A few days later, I received a magnificent rubber tree, with the compliments of the bride and groom, and the following is my letter acknowledg- ing the gift. ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF A GIFT. T\ EAR MR. BEECHER,— Your plant has arrived, And since I received it, I've truly derived A great deal of joy in its beauty and thrift, But more, in the love which prompted the gift. Sincerest of thanks, my very dear friend. For this rubber tree, I hereby extend. With greatest of care V\\ nurture its roots, And raise bye and bye, my own rubber boots. But, joking aside, this thrifty young tree An emblem shall stand betwixt you and me,' Agrowing betwen us, as time speeds along. Of fellowship true, abiding and strong. With best wishes to you both, I remain, etc. School and Life 103 THE PRONOUN I. TXT' HEN thought from mind to mind is borne, The speaker is the mirror, Reflecting messages of truth Unto the waiting hearer. But he that seeks to laud himself, Needs optical correction. A mirror cannot be at once Reflector and reflection. Good usage holds the pronoun I As modest and seclusive, And him that quotes it much and oft, As bumptious and obtrusive. A speaker fighting for a cause, With shackles to unfetter. Hath need to note the usage well , That he may fight the better. He needs enough of self respect To feed a pure ambition. But no inflated-ego trait Should handicap his mission. 104 Poems of So, if reform be all his aim, A genuine obsession, He must eliminate his Ts By prayerful self-repression. Not only vaunting Cicero's, But all that prink in story. Should add this doctrine to their creed, Let others give the glory. October 26, 1913, DAWN. "Vr O night is so dark, but its shadowy shroud Will finally fade into gray. Then vanish in brightness that gilds every cloud. And chases the shadows away. The world sat in darkness in centuries old, Till flooded with Bethlehem's light. That light all-pervading with glory untold, Dispels all the demons of night. School and Life lOJ CHRISTMAS. TpHE heart glows with peace and good will, In the warmth of the Christmas cheer, May its spirit abide with us still, All the days of the calendar year. WHAT CONSTITUTES A GENTLEMAN ? ^^T' ITH passion's evil claims subdued, And self reduced to servitude ; With kindness to a habit grown, And honor reigning on the throne, Subjecting heart, and brain, and hand; With pluck to do, and dare, and stand, These, as no scutcheoned title can, Will ever mark the gentleman. . 106 Poems of PISCATORIAL PEDAGOGIES. TN the world of pedagogies, He, who draws its revenue, Must be quite as many-sided As the famous split bamboo. Now the virtue of this fish rod, We are told by knowing guides, Is the true articulation Of exact trihedron sides. And that all its single sections, Each a truncate bamboo split, Must be riiitred and assembled To a geometric fit. As a frustumed hexahedron. Firmly bound in silken grip. With a fair and faultless taper From the reel-seat to the tip. Hence its flex to tip the nibble. And its strength to land the fish. Hence its fame, as higest apex Of the angler's fondest wish. School and Life 107 From a view-point pedagogic, Thus translate the mataphor : — It behooves each knight of learning To extend his repertoire, Gain experience composite, Master multifarious arts, Take on poise and conscious power,- Be a pedaogue of parts. Here's the plain interpretation From the angler's point of view :- Be not just a common fish pole, Be a peerless split bamboo. May 26, 1911. COME, JOIN OUR CLUB. Y\/' F/LL take delight in greeting you. And well and rightly treating you. We'll please ourselves, in pleasing you, In aiding and in easing you. In coaching and in currying you. And keeping things from worrying you. We'll chase away the cranks and knockers. And check your troubles in our lockers. 108 Poems of NOT DEATH BUT LIFE. In Memory of Mildred Beebe, March '4, 1904. T^HE swelling buds in the sunlight On the tender branches of spring, Are the pledges of plentiful blossoms, And of fruit for the harvesting. But bitter, belated winter, Or the cruel frosts of the night, The burning sun, or the tempest, Or the stress of a terrible blight, Environ the buds with peril. And the blossoms of May with death, And the downy young fruitage of summer With the swirl of a withering breath. Alas for the blighted pledges. In the buds that can never unfold, And the rigors that ravage the weaker Of the life which the stronger may hold. They wither and drop from the branches, As they toss in the wind and the rain, — Their feeble young life-currents merging In the hardier lives that remain. School and Life 109 Not dead, but more folly are living A new life from the same parent source, Which nurtures, revives, and enriches Other life in its broadening course. Not dead, but assuredly living. Is the darling whose presence we miss,- Her life has joined the Eternal, To flow on in perennial bliss. Though absent, yet closer, and dearer, For our hearts will forever enshrine That love which now links us the nearer, To the love of the Father divine. 110 Poems of ON THE BIRTH OF A BOY. XTLT' E welcome thee sweet little stranger, From the glorified gardens above, With thy mission from Him of the manger, To erect a new altar of love. Thy bright natal star gleaming o'er thee. Like the shepherds of yore we behold, And we hasten straightway to adore thee. Bearing tributes of incense and gold. For lo ! a new impulse is beating, Which shall unto infinity reach ; A soul, two eternities meeting. Soon to challenge the secrets of each. We welcome thee innocent stranger. Little prince of illustrious line, — God defend thee from evil and danger, And His bountiful blessings be thine. January 26, 1913. School and Life 111 The following notice of early closing, to enable the children to see a St. Patrick's day parade, was received with unanimous, and unqualified approval by the boys and girls. SCHOOL CLOSES AT THREE. 1^/^ HEN St. Patrick's boys with music and noise March down the street proudly and free, The boys all turn out In crowds on the route To join in the grand jubliee. To honor the day. The flag we'll display, And flock the procesion to see. All give a hurrah ! For Erin go Bragh ! F'or school will close promptly at three. 112 Poems of WHO TOOK THE SCISSORS? A BOX of scissors can't be found, Belonging to Miss T , Now won't you kindly look around, And see where they may be? And send at once to Grade One-One, With thanks long over-due. Just as you rightly should have done, The moment you were through. The golden rule, when understood, Reflects this meaning true, — Do not to others as you would They'd not do unto you. School and Life 113 COMMENCEMENT Rendered by Otis Kelley. V^/'E have striven, we have struggled, We have won. To this stage in learning's highway, We have run. Branches numerous and varied We've pursued, Thumb-stained volume after volume We've reviewed. While the wiliest tricks of logic Were involved In the hard, skull-cracking problems We have solved. The three R's at length we've mastered, But to find They were for the training only Of the mind. The three modern, golden H's Supersede That exploded, insufficient, Old-time creed. And our modern educators Now proclaim Heart and Hand and Head to strengthen Is their aim. 114 PoeTHS of So 'tis strength we've been acquiring, Though we thought It was knowledge, knowledge only That we sought. By a subterfuge of nature We receive Not the object which we struggle To achieve, But an added gift of power, Which reveals Far more bright and glorious objects, And appeals To an inborn thirst for conquest On a field, Where still higher points of vantage Stand revealed. As the Alpine climber pauses, Seeking rest On some jutting mountain's lofty Rugged breast, Scorning stern and deadly perils He must fight. Looks undaunted past the topmost Snow-tipped height. Sees the distant ever beck'ning Star of fame School and Life 115 Gleam above him like a golden Crown of flame; So weVe halted, and would linger Briefly now, And fresh hopes and aspirations Here avow. Gaze we on, and out, and upward To our star, Glistening in vaulted splendor High and far. Star that prompted our ambition, Days gone by, Beacon light of past endeavors, Pure and high. Star that points to honor, station, And renown. Lighting both the rugged pathway, And the crown, — And while gazing take we courage And be strong, Courage, for the upward journey's Steep and long; And with firm, unconquered purpose, So to strive That at length among the fittest We survive. 116 Poems of THE SCHOOL COLORS When the Grammar Schools of Syracuse chose their school colors, Putnam School chose Blue and White, and Franklin Red and White, and Mr. John D. Wilson, the late very estimable principal of Putnam, sent to Frank- lin the following Greetings to Colors : THE BLUE AND WHITE TO THE RED AND WHITE TpHE Crimson and White ! May it ever be right. And onward and upward forever its flight. The White and the Blue will forever renew With pleasure their friendly relations with you. Putnam. School and Life 117 The return greetings from Franklin: THE RED AND THE WHITE TO THE WHITE AND THE BLUE TX/'ITH pride and delight we fondly unite In heartily greeting the '*Blue and the White," So lovely and true, each heavenly hue, And forming, with ours, the ''Red, White and Blue." Since, in the proud spread of our banner are wed The blue and the white with the white and the red. So, truly, may we in harmony be, As long as they blend in the Flag of the Free. Franklin. 118 Poems of A CRYING NEED AN old school-master once 'tis told, Had school-house troubles, manifold. He had so many children, too. He didn't know just what to do. Some grades were packed in scanty space, Because there was no other place ; Atid some but half a day could go. Because the school was crowded so. Some children ached in knee and thigh, A climbing stairs three stories high. The basement was a dungeon cell. Where twilight and the goblins dwell. Where million damps accumulate, And bugs and microbes incubate; And children, reared in tender care. Would shrink in fright, on going there. And many, if the truth were known, Would not have dared go there alone. But, though the tots were frightened so, 'Twas all the place they had to go. School and Life 119 The dampness from the cellar walls, Bulged up the floors of rooms and halls ; And often men would nail and clamp, And lay the bumps, but not the damp. Above such dungeons, dank, unchaste, This over-crowded school was placed. Some rooms, filled full, and all too small, Were made by boarding up the hall. No room was well supplied with light; No ventilation there, was right; No single room could hold them all. And there was no assembly hall. But, though conditions were so bad, 'Twas all the school these children had. The school was on a noisy street. Where clanging trolley cars would meet, And popping motorcycles shot Their spitting volleys by the spot; And honking automobiles spread Their din, and perfume as they sped, Increased by endless stops and starts, And clang and bang of trucks and carts. In swarms and droves, in passing by. These vehicles would seem to try 120 Poems of To make their most distracting noise, To pester those poor girls and boys, Who said their lessons, wrote and read. Midst hubbub that would wake the dead, And grew, by such continuous use To Pandemonium let loose. They'd daily con their lessons o'er. As soldiers sleep while cannons roar. Two things condemned the site, 'tis seen, Electric cars, and gasoline. The school came first, or I could swear They never would have built it there. These grew to be a menace grim. No child was safe in life or limb. But still they came, each lass and lad, For 'twas the safest school they had. The master's heart was sad and sore. His thoughts went back to days of yore. He saw the multitude of youth, Who'd found the school, a fount of truth. Then thought of them, maturely grown. Rejoiced at their achievements shown. Exclaiming, ''These have paid the score. The old school's purchase price, and more, School and Life 121 In minds and hearts of richest worthy The coin most sought in all the earth ; Their broader, higher lives have shown, They far out-weigh this brick and stone/' While musing thus, at length he slept, And pleasing sights before him swept, Sights oft in spirit he had seen, Like pictures moving on a screen. A growing school house meets his eyes, Span after span, he sees it rise, And take proportions, line by line, As if it were his own design. With bated breath he strains to see What name above the door may be; And there in letters carved in stone, The name of his old school, his own. At last, 'tis done. With halting stride, He enters through the portals wide, Beholds with pure ecstatic joys, Within the rooms, his girls and boys. Again, a large assembly hall, And there, his thousand children, all. And in his dream says o'er and o'er, ''This sight I've never seen before." 122 Poems of Upon the playground, large and wide, He views the merry sports with pride. No threatening danger stalks about, And quiet reigns, within, without. His heart is glad. This school is home, A perfect one from base to dome. He woke and heard, with troubled sigh, A motorcycle crashing by. Dreams, though devoid of will, or sense. Are oft forerunners of events, And so, inspired with courage new, He strives to make his dream come true. The author desires here to state that, al- though his dream has not all come true, a new site has already been secured through the generosity of the city fathers, large and com- modious, on a quiet street, and above all, free from danger to the pupils. School and Life 123 One day, at school, I had occasion to use the glue, which was kept in my office as a distributing point for all the teachers. The glue was not to be found. I sent out a search for it, but, without result. The next morning, I sent around the fol- lowing notice. GLUE LOST T AST week, a young girl, all guileless and true, Came to the office, and borrowed the glue. It's not been returned, though not the girl's lack, But that of the teacher, who won't send it back. Now, occasions arise, when I, in my haste. Must often make use of this gelatin paste, So, dear delinquent, please kindly return The absent glue-can, and my gratitude earn. 124 Poems of It developed that a teacher whose Christian name was Susan, had sent for the glue several days before, and after using it, owing to the multiplicity of her duties, had put it away in her desk, and had forgotten that she had it, un- til the appearance of the above notice. Need- less to say, she promptly returned it, with a very pretty apology. But she was not permitted to let it rest that way, for several teachers, overjoyed that they were not delinquent, this time, took occasion, good-naturedly, to chaflf Miss Susan, about the glue, and I joined in the sport with the rest. And my only excuse for perpetrating the following silly doggerel, lies in the fact, that glue rhymes with Sue. WHO TOOK THE GLUE? An Ode to Sue. A/f Y dear Miss Sue : — I have a clue, Which, if it's true Points straight to you. As person who Purloined my glue. School and Life 125 Directly through A young girl who Just took your cue, And got the glue, And then withdrew, Away from view. As, not a few Good pupils do, Who haste to sue Approval due From teacher true To pupils who Delight to do. And rightly, too. Whatever you Instruct them to. By interview These facts I drew From those who knew, And saw the glue. And say 'tis true 'Twas stuck on you. This point of view, Entirely new. If it be true. 126 Poems of Releases you, And sticks the glue. With shame I view The scene anew, When peace withdrew, And patience flew, And in their lieu A mannish shrew Did then imbue My being through. Until it slew My reason, too. With shame review The storm that blew My office through. When first I knew There was no glue. The noisy stew That did ensue Gave air the hue Of Prussian blue, And objects flew. And hot words, too, And cry and hue Against the crew School and Life 127 With hearts untrue Who could pursue Base motive to Abstract my glue. Now, I subdue The gorge that drew The senseless brew That well-nigh threw Us all askew. Hot tears imbrue My eyes with dew. And I do rue So much ado About mere glue. And now, good Sue, I claim, and true, — As is your due, — I care not who, Or Greek, or Jew, The claims eschew, — No blame unto The mooted glue. Or suitor who Gets stuck on you. 128 Poems of So, patient Sue 'Tis time you knew, That I withdrew The blame from you, And from the glue. Should any do Umbrage to you With any view To pester you, Them Til pursue E'en through a mew Of ormolu, Or follow to The far purlieu Of Kalamazoo, Till they shall sue. And meekly woo. Their peace from you, I do renew This pledge to you. And, leal and true, ril keep it, too. May it undo The pain to you School and Life 129 That did accrue, Because we knew The lucky glue Was stuck on you. Now, being through The interview, Much injured Sue, I bid to you A fond adieu. THE EVOLUTION OF A NIMROD TX/^ITH tired brain, and nerves o'erwrought He departs from home, as he feels he ought, From dust, and heat, and clanging bells. From the city smokes, and the city smells, And hies him to the forest camps. With a few good fellows to share his tramps. And thanks his stars, he's not in town. As he stretches his limbs on balsam down. 130 Poems of New scenes, new life, new aims are sought, And a lot of notional whims he's brought. No stiff conventions must destroy Nor curtail, one mite, his primitive joy. And so, the galling garb of pride. With the honeyed phrases, are laid aside, And lo, a modern man of weight, Is inducted into the primal state. In wild-wood lore this man is short. Though he's very long in the city sort. To be a Nimrod is his aim, And, by Jingoe, he's out to get some game. ^'The rest of you may climb a tree. But a hunter's life is the life for me." He sallies out at peep of sun. To besiege the wilderness with his gun. Through forest fastnesses he stalks, But he flushes only the crows and hawks. The partridge chicks, quite plumply grown, Take a whirring flight from the danger zone; The forest birds all shun his route. And the solemn-eyed owl subdues his hoot. No sign of birds, as on he goes, But the cawing of distant sharp-eyed crows. School and Life 131 The squirrels see the hunter's plot, And the bruins, concluding 'tis getting hot, Resort discreetly to their lairs, For he might take a crack at honest bears. The antlered buck retreats pell mell, From a windward odor he knows too well. All these desert the haunted spot. Lest they garnish the hunter's camping pot. It seemed the undivided lot Of forest creatures had somehow got A hurry call to cut and run Far away from man and his dreaded gun. But two remained most loyal still, And they stuck to him with a right good will, — The skeeter, with his poison stings. And the punkey, a pair of jaws, with wings. The first will chase you till you tire, But wall chase you harder, when you perspire. And, 'tis a fact beyond a doubt. Never quits a man, till his blood gives out. The punkey, with his winsome ways. Can embitter a hunter's life for days. With these two pests familiar grown. Our unfortunate finds himself alone. 132 Poems of Take this for fact, that, at his best, The mosquito is a villainous pest. To-day he's born, mid swamps and mud, And to-morrow, thirsting for human blood. You feel a sting, you wince, and jerk. But, already, he's done his bloody work. He seeks another likely spot. And, at once, he clamly proceeds to squat, Inserts his needle-pointed snout. And begins the process of drawing out. You writhe, you howl, you curse, you swat, But the skeeter has found another spot. The punkey is a tiny mite, But, a monster achievement is his bite. In milHons, on your skin they'll play, But you think them harmless, and let them stay. Next day, with swollen hands and throat. You'll be hunting for an antidote. Our hero is in sorry plight. He is far from camp, and 'tis nearly night. He's lost his boldness 'mongst the trees, With his manly poise, and sense of ease. Half- frightened by the forest hush, He retakes his way through the underbrush. School and Life 133 His hands are scratched, his clothing torn, And he's utterly winded, fagged, and worn. He limps along with leaden feet, With his body-guard, the mosquito fleet, And punkies, like guerilla bands, A-circling about his head and his hands, He tries to shield his tortured face. And by cuffs and slaps, clear a breathing space. He lashes out both front and rear, To expel these pests from the atmosphere. He swings his arms about like flails. With a bush, he whips, he whirls, and he whales. And forms, as he gesticulates, Many composite curves, and figure eights. No posture master, anywhere. Could affect the contortions acted there. He must not tarry there at bay, So, he shoulders his gun, and dodges away. He, shortly, knows that he is lost, For he comes to a stream he's never crossed. He sits him down upon a stump, As he tries to swallow a rising lump. And thinks of men of whom he's read, That were lost like this, and discovered dead. 134 Poems of And with such thoughts upon his soul, His exhausted body demands its toll. His tired eye-lids gently close, And at last, he's free from all his woes. His campmates find him by his snore, With his late tormentors, hovering o'er. They bear him back by light of lamp. And the distance is twenty rods to camp. His stings and bites are promptly bathed, And the painful swellings are soothed and swathed. His hands, like boxing-gloves are tied, And his head is skillfully mummified. So, thus, in camp he meekly stays For a few most sad, and regretful days. But, struggling 'twixt chagrin and doubt, He resolves to figure the problem out. A friendly native notes his plight, And he drops in often, and sets him right About the habitat of game. And the traits and markings of each, by name, How, by stealth, to shadow his prey. And, in no event, his presence betray. It soon became his mentor's wont, To accompany him upon the hunt. School and Life 135 He learned the windings of the trails To the densest, distant, wooded dales. He studied wind, and sun, and shade, So he never more was lost or strayed. By use of fragrant oil of tar He compelled the skeets to bide afar ; Became so skillful with a gun, He could hit the target on the run. All chaffing has been done away, Since he bagged two deer in a single day. He, now, can pot the antlered buck. And can flush the partridge, and wing the duck. He stalks the forest, day or night. And defies all insects that sting, or bite. To be a Nimrod is his aim. And, by Jingoe, he surely gets some game. 136 Poems of BATTLE SONG OF PEACE (Tune: Marching Through Georgia.) T^/'E are young Americans, with loyal hearts and true, And we love our starry banner, red and white and blue, 'Twas the flag of Washington, the flag of Lin- coln, too, So let our flag float forever. CHORUS Hurrah ! Hurrah ! its praises we will tell. Hurrah ! Hurrah ! the flag that never fell, Should it be insulted, we will fight both long and well. So let our flag float forever. All our land is peopled by the men who braved the sea, Here to seek their fortunes, and to taste our liberty. Here to rear their children, 'neath the Banner of the Free, So let our flag float forever. — Cho. School and Life 137 Now, as true Americans, we'll keep our threats and blows, Not for one another, but for our dear country's foes. Side by side we'll battle, for the flag our fathers chose. So let our flag float forever. — Cho, There are inner foes to fight, they're many and they're strong. We must bravely meet them ever, as we go along. If we always fight for right, and never for the wrong. Then will our flag float forever. CHORUS Hurrah ! Hurrah ! We'll shout our battle song, Hurrah ! Hurrah ! the battle of the strong, n we always fight for right and never for the wrong, Then will our flag float forever. 138 Poems of OLD SCHOOL, GOOD-BYE 'Y'HERE is a land, I love it well, It is peopled by girls and boys. And there the fairies always dwell. And they watch o'er the children's joys. CHORUS Old school, good-bye. The dear old bell It will ring nevermore for me. Good-bye, good-bye. No tongue can tell, How I wish I were back with thee. No other spot, however grand, Though adorned with splendor and grace, Can e'er surpass my fairy land, Nor its far sweeter charms displace. Cho. I love its duties to recall, How the tasks, I thought were so long, I strove to master, one and all, And to brighten my work with song. Cho. I love the love of that dear spot, . And shall cling to it till I die, — Such love is sweet, and faileth not. As the fast flying years go by. — Cho. School and Life 139 MY MOTHER jLJER face, Madonna-like, and true, Her eyes, a part of heaven's blue. Her smile, a radiance from the sky, Her voice, an angel lullaby. She bore, and reared, and guided me. She checked, and cheered, and chided me. More kind to me than any other, My dear, devoted, patient mother. Her willing arms, my cradle bed, Her breast a pillow for my head. Her every touch, a fond caress, Her every wish, my happiness. She planned, denied, and saved for me, She yearned, and cried, and slaved for me. More kind to me than any other. My dear, devoted, patient mother. She taught my feet the narrow way, Attuned my lisping tongue to pray. And now, her saintly spirit free. From Paradise she beckons me. For me her hopes, her fears, her cares, Her mother-love, her tears, her prayers More kind to me than any other, My dear, devoted, patient mother. May 14th, 1916. 140 Poems of THE FISHING PARTY XJ" O ! for a day on the bounding blue, With lungfuls of ozonous air, Ho! to be one of the jolly crew, Away from all worry, and care. Ho ! for a chance once more to be boys, With dignity dropped for a day, To revel in free and unmuzzled joys. And shock all the fish in the bay. Ho ! for the pulsing thrill of the strike, That tautens the line with a swish. The leap of the bass, the tug of the pike. And the flop of the landed fish. Ho ! for the fight for the biggest catch, The zest of the struggle to win, The skill to excel, the luck to outmatch, And to capture the prize, by a fin. Ho ! for the feast on the wooded shore, And the clamorous appetite. The high heaped plates, and the calls for more, And the well-filled sense of delight. School and Life 141 Ho ! for the burn, and the brown, and the tan, And the hardships, all sportsmen ignore, For these but renew the spirit of man. And the waste of his tissues restore. May 30, 1916. To hold an annual fishing party on Oneida Lake has been the custom of the school men for several years. It has come to be re- garded as one of the recreations that must not be omitted. I have had the honor to be its chairman since its inauguration, and with my last an- nouncement I enclosed the foregoing verses, as a sort of sequel to it, suggesting in some detail, the joys of the approaching outing, which joys were touched only inferentially in the announcement. One of the first responses came from my old friend, Mr. Charles S. Gibson of Buffalo. There being no signature to the response, there was no real evidence to convict him ; but I am positive that he wrote it, for it is 142 Poems of so characteristic of the fellow. Besides, none of the other fellows would have had the audacity to perpetrate a parody on my verses. Furthermore, Gibson is the man that put sand in my hair, and pebbles in my pockets at one time. Nevertheless, I for- give him, for he might have been much more reprehensible in his practical jokes, if not in his response. GIBSON'S RESPONSE. "L-T O ! for a face as red as a rose, From the burn of the summer sun, And a half-pound mosquit on the tip of your nose, — • Swat him ! the son of a gun. Ho ! for the sand in your hair that night, And the stones in your pockets next year. Ho ! for the dignified rooster-fight. And Ho ! for the rough-house idea-r. Hoe, Hoe, you blasted old sinner. Hoe, Hoe, For the '^worms'' that you put on your hook ; School and Life 143 For they don't grow on a tree any mo', And you can't find the things in a book. Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! and Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! And Ho ! again two or three times, But I think that Row! row, row, row, row, Ought to show up somewhere in your rhymes.