SCHOOL that, in Burford's honoured time, Reared me to youth's elastic prime From childhood's airy slumbers -- School at whose antique shrine I bow, Sexagenarian pilgrim now, Accept a poet's numbers. Those yew-trees never seem to grow: The village stands in @3statu quo,@1 Without a single new house. But, heavens, how shrunk! how very small! 'Tis a mere step from Urmstone's wall, "Up town," to Morgan's brewhouse. There, in you rough-cast mansion, dwelt Sage Denham, Galen's son, who dealt In squills and cream of tartar; Fronting the room where now I dine, Beneath thy undulating sign, Peak-bearded Charles the Martyr! Pent in by beams of mouldering wood The parish stocks stand where they stood -- Did ever drunkard rue'em? I dive not in parochial law, Yet this I know -- I never saw Two legs protruded through'em. Here, to the right, rose hissing proofs Of skill to solder horses' hoofs, Formed in the forge of Radley; And there, the almshouses beyond, Half-way before you gain the Pond, Lived wry-mouthed Martin Hadley. Does Philby still exist? Where now Are Willis, Wilcox, Green, and Howe? Ann Wright, the smart and handy? Hillman alone a respite steals From Fate; and -- @3vice@1 Hadley -- deals In tea and sugar-candy. Can I my school-friend Belson track? Where hides him Chamberlaine? where Black, Intended for the altar? Does life-blood circulate in Bates? Where are Jack Cumberlege and Yates? The Burrells, Charles and Walter? There, at your ink-bespattered shrine, Cornelius Nepos first was mine; Here fagged I hard at Plutarch: Found Ovid's mighty pleasant ways, While Plato's metaphysic maze Appeared like @3Pluto@1 -- too dark. Here usher Ireland sat -- and there Stood Bolton, Cowal, Parker, Ware, Medley, the pert and witty, And here -- crack station, near the fire -- Sat Roberts, whose Haymarket sire Sold oil and spermaceti. Yon pew, the gallery below, Held Nancy, pride of Chigwell Row, Who set all hearts a dancing: In bonnet white, divine brunette, O'er Burnet's field I see thee yet, To Sunday church advancing. Seek we the churchyard; there the yew Shades many a swain whom once I knew, Now nameless and forgotten; Here towers Sir Edward's marble bier, Here lies stern Vickery, and here, My father's friend Tom Cotton. The common herd serenely sleep, Turf-bound, "in many a mouldering heap" Pent in by bands of osier; While at the altar's feet is laid The founder of the school, arrayed In mitre and in crosier. 'Tis nature's law: wave urges wave: The coffined grandsire seeks the grave, The babe that feeds by suction, Finds with his ancestor repose: Life ebbs, and dissolution sows The seeds of reproduction. World, in thy ever busy mart, I've acted no unnoticed part -- Would I resume it? oh no! Four acts are done, the jest grows stale; The waning lamps burn dim and pale, And reason asks -- @3Cui bono?@1 I've met with no "affliction sore;" But hold! methinks, "long time I bore;" Here ends my lucubration -- Content, with David's son, to know, That all is vanity below, Tho' not quite all vexation. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BALLAD OF THE DARK LADIE; A FRAGMENT by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE VOLUNTARIES by RALPH WALDO EMERSON SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE: 9. AT THE ALTAR-RAIL by THOMAS HARDY THE PASSOVER IN THE HOLY FAMILY (FOR A DRAWING) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 33. RED DAWN by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |