Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, OLD 'PROF' DICKSON DIES, by CARL HOLLIDAY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

OLD 'PROF' DICKSON DIES, by                    
First Line: Old 'prof' dickson's dead at last
Last Line: But my! What cheers rocked heaven's wall!
Subject(s): Death; Teaching & Teachers; Dead, The; Educators; Professors


Old "Prof" Dickson's dead at last;
Sixty years have come and passed
Since he first taught in bleak North Hall.
Taught the "boys" their classic lore,
Taught their sons -- and even more --
Taught their grandsons. Strange indeed
How they came and went! What speed
They made to hear the world's shrill call!

Old "Prof" Dickson explained great books,
All the time with keen, shrewd looks --
Up there in rickety North Hall --
Sizing up each soul's estate,
Teaching each to do, not prate;
Saw some rise, saw many die;
Death called him too -- by and by.
Possessions? Books and books -- that's all.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Lo, at the gates of Heaven a multitude standing and waiting,
Expectant, peering through cloud-land, excited and smiling like people
Who waited at an earthly station the train that bears them their loved ones!
Waiting they gaze down the mystical valley of cloud-land. Impatient
They seem for the guest whose coming had long been delayed and whose absence
Had caused in their hearts a sense of some vague incompleteness of living.

Then a shout from a glorified youngster: "He comes! There he is! He is
coming!"
A buzz of excitement and giggling, sly poking of ribs; and swiftly
The soul of the boy unrolls the gossamer folds of a banner,
A banner like air, but distinct with the colors that loftily over
The towers of gray North Hall had flown when in triumph of battle
The stalwart squad of the College had carried the ball past the goal-line.
And now o'er the ramparts of Heaven an eager boy-soul waves it madly!

And behold! up the road that winds billowing softly to Heaven's high portals
Comes old "Prof" Dickson, walking sedately, as ever, and bearing
In one lean hand the ghost of his old and familiar green note-bag;
Reading with studious calmness a manuscript tattered and yellow --
The notes of his lecture on Milton's Paradise Lost! Oh, then
What a bedlam bursts forth at the gates of high Heaven! What rhythmical roaring
Of the wild college-yell that for sixty long years had re-echoed and bellowed

Through the halls where so calmly "Prof" Dickson had taught callow youth the
beauty
Of letters and living! What cheering! What raising of ghost-filmy banners!
And singing of Old Alma Mater! Gray chaps who in days long since vanished
Had heard in North Hall this identical lecture on Milton's grim epic,
Now waving their diadems, shouting a welcome! And whooping and swinging
His gossamer college banner, that boy-soul redoubles the turmoil!

Calmly came old "Prof" Dickson, lifting his eyes from his papers,
And smiling to hear what so oft on the wide college campus had roused him
From study and meditation of those who had written the record
Of the sorrows and joys of the earth-life. And thus into Heaven's dominion
Midst thundering cheers of his "boys" walked quaintly their old "Prof" Dickson,
Unaware that the roar and the tumult of welcome were all in his honor!
Proudly he looked upon them: "I take it you won in your battle."
And up through the streets of Heaven "Prof" Dickson led the procession
Of boys who had sat in North Hall and learned from his lectures their
"classics."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Old "Prof" Dickson's dead at last;
Sixty years have come and passed
Since he first taught in bleak North Hall.
Left no money; books -- his hoard;
"Resolutions by the Board."
But my! what cheers rocked Heaven's wall!





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