Valentine Verses or, Lines of Truth, Love, and Virtue. By the Reverend Richard Cobbold |
 |
GOING TO SCHOOL. |
 | Valentine Verses |  |
85
GOING TO SCHOOL.
No song to-day,—the heart has pain;—
The horses trot.—The pelting rain,
Like tears of sorrow, sad alas!
Rolls heavily adown the glass!
The youngsters think of home and play,
Of joyous moments gone away.—
The fishing-rod, or poney's back;—
They startle at the postboy's crack,
As onward urging steeds along,
He lifts the far resounding thong.
A secret shudder, call it dread
Of sleeping in the school-boy's bed;
No dear mamma, to say “good night”!
Or tender sister to delight;
No gentle servant to awake
With merry call, at morning's break:—
To-morrow's dawn, the ringing bell,
Which sounds as heavily as knell,
Will bid them rise, and hasten down,
To see the Doctor in his gown;
Books and ushers, rod and cane,
O ye terrors, ye have pain!—
The horses trot.—The pelting rain,
Like tears of sorrow, sad alas!
Rolls heavily adown the glass!
The youngsters think of home and play,
Of joyous moments gone away.—
The fishing-rod, or poney's back;—
They startle at the postboy's crack,
As onward urging steeds along,
He lifts the far resounding thong.
A secret shudder, call it dread
Of sleeping in the school-boy's bed;
No dear mamma, to say “good night”!
Or tender sister to delight;
No gentle servant to awake
With merry call, at morning's break:—
To-morrow's dawn, the ringing bell,
Which sounds as heavily as knell,
86
To see the Doctor in his gown;
Books and ushers, rod and cane,
O ye terrors, ye have pain!—
The youngster's sit, and scarcely break
The weary silence—none can speak;
Perchance to count their money o'er,
They search again the purse's store,
And hope to find in midst of grief,
That shining shillings give relief.
But hold my pen, enough! enough!
My heart is not so strangely tough,
That even now, that sense of pain,
Does not as forcibly remain.
O yes! deny it can I not,
Nor thou Sir, if thou'st not forgot,
The days of boyhood's former rule
When, journeying from home to school,
The thoughts of pleasures would arise,
And all the school-boy's cruelties.
But now advanced in years of youth,
Come tell me truly, if forsooth,
There can be greater grief than this,
To leave, the home of Lover's bliss;
To bid farewell to days of pleasure,
Woman's heart, the human treasure.
The weary silence—none can speak;
Perchance to count their money o'er,
They search again the purse's store,
And hope to find in midst of grief,
That shining shillings give relief.
But hold my pen, enough! enough!
My heart is not so strangely tough,
That even now, that sense of pain,
Does not as forcibly remain.
O yes! deny it can I not,
Nor thou Sir, if thou'st not forgot,
The days of boyhood's former rule
When, journeying from home to school,
The thoughts of pleasures would arise,
And all the school-boy's cruelties.
But now advanced in years of youth,
Come tell me truly, if forsooth,
There can be greater grief than this,
To leave, the home of Lover's bliss;
To bid farewell to days of pleasure,
Woman's heart, the human treasure.
87
O should Life engage thine eye,
Inviting thee, the world to try,
Believe it true, that vice will never
Make thee sensible or clever;—
The school-boy feels not half the pain,
A man of conscience does in stain;
Nor half the grief his senses know,
As he who feels for others woe.
Believe it true!—a constant rule!
That Love is ever the best school;
For never need'st thou leave thy home,
In search of Happiness to come,
Since every Christian youth may prove,
The heart is school and Home of Love.
Inviting thee, the world to try,
Believe it true, that vice will never
Make thee sensible or clever;—
The school-boy feels not half the pain,
A man of conscience does in stain;
Nor half the grief his senses know,
As he who feels for others woe.
Believe it true!—a constant rule!
That Love is ever the best school;
For never need'st thou leave thy home,
In search of Happiness to come,
Since every Christian youth may prove,
The heart is school and Home of Love.
| Valentine Verses | |