To the Teachers of America

Teachers of teachers! Yours the task, Noblest that noble minds can ask, High up Aonia's murmurous mount, To watch, to guard the sacred fount That feeds the streams below; To guide the hurrying flood that fills A thousand silvery rippling rills In ever-widening flow.

Rich is the harvest from the fields That bounteous Nature kindly yields, But fairer growths enrich the soil Ploughed deep by thought's unwearied toil In Learning's broad domain. And where the leaves, the flowers, the fruits, Without your watering at the roots, To fill each branching vein?

Welcome! the Author's firmest friends, Your voice the surest Godspeed lends. Of you the growing mind demands The patient care, the guiding hands, Through all the mists of morn. And knowing well the future's need, Your prescient wisdom sows the seed To flower in years unborn.