Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton collected and arranged by H. Augusta Dodge |
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A VALEDICTORY |
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 | Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton |  |
153
A VALEDICTORY
With joy, dear parents and good friends, with joy and yet with fear,
We've long looked forward to the day when we should meet you here—
With joy, to see in this our room your faces ever kind—
With fear lest you should find us not all you had hoped to find.
But pray, remember when you judge, how few our years have been;
The summers on our wisest heads have scarcely numbered ten.
We left, not many months ago, each one his mother's side;
And even now our leading strings are loosened—not untied!
But don't you know that Solomon, with all his wondrous might,
Was once a baby, knowing not his left hand from his right?
That Moses cried to get the moon, Napoleon wore a bib,
And Frank Pierce rode a broom-stick, and slept within a crib?
So, ever in your ears, we hope the scripture adage rings,
However wise, not to despise the day of little things.
And though to you but very small may seem our learnèd lore,
Remember we have done our best, and “angels could no more.”
We've washed our faces very clean, we've brushed the wayward hair,
And smoothed our frocks and collars down with most surprising care.
Not for the world our pretty fans or kerchiefs would we lose,
And if you'd see a handsome face just look at our new shoes.
Now though we don't suppose we are the best in all the city,
Yet don't you think we're pretty fair, most reverend committee?
Your approbation, sirs, we hope to gain in some small measure,
Th' approving voice of such a judge would crown our toil with pleasure.
But if you've seen, as needs must be, aught you cannot commend,
We surely will receive your blame as from a long-tried friend.
We thank you, sirs, for all your care and pray that you may be
Long spared unto our little school though we're not here to see.
Dear teacher, who, for months and weeks, hast guided us so well,
To your own heart our hearts shall speak what words can never tell;
Your patience never failed in all our listless, naughty ways—
The bad have met a firm rebuke—the good unstinted praise.
The consciousness of duty done, a just reward is given—
Be every other blessing showered upon you from high Heaven.
We've long looked forward to the day when we should meet you here—
With joy, to see in this our room your faces ever kind—
With fear lest you should find us not all you had hoped to find.
But pray, remember when you judge, how few our years have been;
The summers on our wisest heads have scarcely numbered ten.
We left, not many months ago, each one his mother's side;
And even now our leading strings are loosened—not untied!
But don't you know that Solomon, with all his wondrous might,
Was once a baby, knowing not his left hand from his right?
That Moses cried to get the moon, Napoleon wore a bib,
And Frank Pierce rode a broom-stick, and slept within a crib?
So, ever in your ears, we hope the scripture adage rings,
However wise, not to despise the day of little things.
154
Remember we have done our best, and “angels could no more.”
We've washed our faces very clean, we've brushed the wayward hair,
And smoothed our frocks and collars down with most surprising care.
Not for the world our pretty fans or kerchiefs would we lose,
And if you'd see a handsome face just look at our new shoes.
Now though we don't suppose we are the best in all the city,
Yet don't you think we're pretty fair, most reverend committee?
Your approbation, sirs, we hope to gain in some small measure,
Th' approving voice of such a judge would crown our toil with pleasure.
But if you've seen, as needs must be, aught you cannot commend,
We surely will receive your blame as from a long-tried friend.
We thank you, sirs, for all your care and pray that you may be
Long spared unto our little school though we're not here to see.
155
To your own heart our hearts shall speak what words can never tell;
Your patience never failed in all our listless, naughty ways—
The bad have met a firm rebuke—the good unstinted praise.
The consciousness of duty done, a just reward is given—
Be every other blessing showered upon you from high Heaven.
Whene'er we fear the world will scorn our learning and our arts,
We turn with confidence to you, O throbbing mothers' hearts!
The love that taught our baby lips and led our baby feet
Will never fail our weak essays with cheering smiles to greet.
We mean to answer all your hopes and disappoint your fears,
And grow more good and truly wise as we increase in years.
We turn with confidence to you, O throbbing mothers' hearts!
The love that taught our baby lips and led our baby feet
Will never fail our weak essays with cheering smiles to greet.
We mean to answer all your hopes and disappoint your fears,
And grow more good and truly wise as we increase in years.
Dear school-mates, who have met us here—who'll meet us nevermore,
No coming scenes will e'er blot out the happy scenes of yore.
Your pleasant faces we shall miss from out our little band;
We love you, and we bless you as we give the parting hand.
No coming scenes will e'er blot out the happy scenes of yore.
156
We love you, and we bless you as we give the parting hand.
To you, who, with the autumn days, again shall cheer our sight,
We will not say the sad “Good-bye,” but only breathe “Good-night.”
We hope the bright vacation days will find you with the flowers;
That by the brooks and o'er the hills, you'll chase the flying hours;
Go! bring back scores of rosy cheeks and scores of sparkling eyes,
And worlds-full of heart happiness, that never, never dies.
May health and hope and peace and love forever with you dwell,
And now, dear teacher, parents, friends, we bid you all farewell.
We will not say the sad “Good-bye,” but only breathe “Good-night.”
We hope the bright vacation days will find you with the flowers;
That by the brooks and o'er the hills, you'll chase the flying hours;
Go! bring back scores of rosy cheeks and scores of sparkling eyes,
And worlds-full of heart happiness, that never, never dies.
May health and hope and peace and love forever with you dwell,
And now, dear teacher, parents, friends, we bid you all farewell.
Summer, 1857.
| Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton | |