Idle Moments : :: :: University of Virginia Library

Old time with its sycle and swift onward play,
For once has turned backward, we are children to-day;
And the world with its conflicts, its battles and strife,
Is forgotten in pleasures and mem'ries of life.

These lassies with puffs, bangs and frizzes, galore,
Are girls in short dresses, and white pinafores;
While the men with stiff collars and high beaver hats,
Are boys in short breeches, and patches at that.

As I stand up here reading I'm quaking with fear,
For I think 'tis Miss Stratton, whose footsteps I hear;
Or dear Mr. Manly, or sainted Miss Knowles,
Comes tripping behind me and ready to scold.

“You Davis, sit down there!” I fancy she calls,
While Miss Manly, Miss Hadley, Miss Patterson all
Come trooping before me; but one thing I know,
I can slip by Miss Bass, she's so awfully slow.

My name is still cut on the seat by the door,
I am trying to cut it much higher, you know,
But I wonder if fame can e'er give the joy,
I found at old Normal when I was a boy?

On the green field of life we are still playing games,
Our base-ball and foot-ball we are playing the same;
As of old, the great winners must play the game bold
With the earth as a foot-ball and heaven the goal.

Some now play a fine game, and ne'er get a fall,
Some play as the kickers, and others the ball;
If you fail in your kicking cling close to the shore,
For the world kicks much harder than Normal of yore.

Some make a home run, and multitudes shout,
While some strike a grounder and other strike out,
Though fallen and beaten we still must be men,
And try it to-morrow, to win if we can.

Our girls of Old Normal are still jumping rope,
But don't let it trip you and get your neck broke;
For few, like our mother, will help us, alas!
When once we have fallen from virtue's straight paths.

But well we remember no boyhood could last,
The world called for men, and we went to the task,
Some won and some failed, but in heart we are one,
God grant we're as true as when we begun.

Some fellows are lawyers and sending to jail,
Their poor fellow creatures, nor getting them bail,
While others are doctors and curing life's ills,
At least, if not curing, are sending in bills.

Some presidents, professors and teachers in schools,
And thrashing young urchins for breaking the rules,
Some maidens, some matrons, some happy papas,
With eight or ten young ones their pleasures to mar.

What though they are climbing the ladder of fame,
They are Ben, Dan or Bowler, Hayes, Johnston or James,
Though clouded with care and in dignity dressed,
They are Sallie and Julia, Rose, Anna and Bess.

Some fellows are down who stood in the van,
Maybe gone to bad, but they are ours the same,
Let's throw out a line to them sinking in crime
And allure them to virtue for dear “Auld Lang Syne.”

But some fail to answer at calling of roll,
Our eyes fill with tears, they are missed from the fold,
But in glory we'll greet-them when battle is done,
Pat, Walter and others will meet us—at home.

Let's recount o'er our battles, take courage and aim
To help on each other to honor and fame;
Nor suffer our banner to trail in the dust,
Or the bright sword of honor in scabbard to rust.

We think of our sorrows, we think of our joys,
And in this our re-union are again girls and boys;
Old time can not dampen our spirits so gay,
We'll laugh at his efforts, we are children to-day.

By this hallowed elysium our tent is now spread,
But soon to new duties, new paths we must tread,
The world calls for heroes, our race calls for men,
Unselfishness and true 'till bright heaven's the end.