  Can we e'er forget our boyhood, And the days we spent at school, With the jolly youths and maidens Who with pencil for a tool, Squared the area of a circle, And minutely did compute The interest and discount On a promissory note? As we worked those "grazing" questions, We could see the cattle eat; See the grass grow up by inches Beneath their cloven feet; We could surely hear a lowing That distinctly called our names, Inviting us to pastures To enjoy our childish games. If the day were warm and pleasant, The calling seemed more clear Than when chilly winds were sighing, And the clouds were dark and drear; It was no imagination, For a schoolboy's mind is real, Though we heard that calling often We answered it with zeal. Then we worked like real bankers And claimed "three days of grace;" Then we figured "hare and greyhound" In their leaping, jaunty race; We desired an illustration Of the problems to be solved, As no concrete computation From the abstract e'er evolved. We solved the size of fishes, When some fraction and a part Were all the given bases To test our "number" art, But we never were contented With the fishes in the book, So we strolled off to the lakeside, Or down the purling brook. Then we had some given acres In the form of perfect square, And a fence around its border With a circle must compare, Which would cost the greater money To fence it in with rails, Or build with posts and stringers, Sawed lumber, and cut nails. Then we worked upon that problem Which has never yet been solved, How to live and be contented In the scenes life has evolved, Much must be inferred, We will find this root's extraction Will often prove a surd. As life's day of sunshine lingers, Ere the darkness draws apace, 'Tis a blessed satisfaction To look backward o'er the race, And feel that in the running, Our best was ever done, And know that at the ending, Some trophy must be won. Though the eye may lose its clearness And the touch may lose its thrill, Though the senses fail to gather All the promptings of the will, May the mind retain its power To recall the days of yore, Till the spirit casts its anchor On that far-off unseen shore. When on that shore safe landed, It seems to be quite plain That the greatest satisfaction Will be to think of youth again; There must be a great transition From this mundane sphere below, If the thoughts of early boyhood May not set all heaven aglow. |
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