Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/222

Rh

doth this picture's art relume Of childhood's scenes the buried bloom! How from oblivion's sweeping stream Each floating flower and leaf redeem! From neighbouring spire, the iron chime That told the school's allotted time, The lowly porch where woodbine crept, The floor with careful neatness swept, The hour-glass in its guarded nook, Which oft our busy fingers shook By stealth, if flowed too slow away The sands that held us from our play; The murmured task, the frequent tear, The timid laugh, prolonged and dear, These all on heart, and ear, and eye, Come thronging back, from years gone by. And there thou art! in peaceful age With brow as thoughtful, mild and sage, As when upon thy pupil's heart Thy lessons breathed—yes there thou art! And in thy hand that sacred book Whereon it was our pride to look, Whose truths around thy hoary head, A never-fading halo shed, Whose glorious hopes in holy trust Still blossom o'er thy mouldering dust.