A School-Boy Memory

Out of the old, old days, how long 
     Departed down the twilight skies 
I will not guess, above the throng, 
     I see one welcome shape arise:

A school-girl, with her twelve bright years,
     A throbbing joy in every nerve, 
Blue eyes that know but pity's tears, 
     Small hands already prompt to serve;

A tender, sympathetic face,
     Fair, if not beautiful, more sweet 
Than many a one, whose Phidian grace,
     Wanting the heart, is incomplete.

A light form, buoyant, full of ease, 
     Poised like a lily on its stem;
A step elastic as the breeze
     That undulates her garment's hem.

To me, a timid, shrinking lad, 
     Oft rude for shyness, often mute
For very fulness, rarely glad
     But when alone with bird and brute;

Jostled by all the hale, rough ways 
     Of hardy boyhood, feeling oft 
My homespun shrivel in the gaze 
     Of conscious wealth in raiment soft;

To me, in boyish grief apart,
     That fairy figure flits; I hear
Out from a little guileless heart
     One gentle word dropped, sweet with cheer,

One word! and all beside are gone—
     The boy-grief and the girlish life! 
One passing glance, and tender tone, 
     Live on immortal in all strife.

She grew and wedded, reared her sons 
     And daughters in a home remote,
Died crowned with love of little ones
     Whose mother's mother breathed that note.

Beyond the school-room door she passed 
     Forever out of sight, but ne'er
Out of remembrance; that shall last 
     Perhaps to thank her for her cheer!

If, latest of her line till now,
     One girlish face before me shone, 
With reverence would I kiss her brow, 
     In memory of that far off tone!