Old Academy Poem

Orleans County Poetry

The Old Academy

by Mary A. (Currier) Smith

(Dedicated to the Students of Brownington Academy, who attended that

Institution under the instruction of Mr. Twilight)

In reverie let me wander,

Through dreamland wander o’er

Again the scenes of girlhood

In happy days of yore.

But listen, ‘tis pealing, low,

of yonder silvery bell;

Like music stealing o’er me

With sweet and thrilling knell.

Bring me the old stone house,

That pile of granite grim;

Lead me through its ancient halls

And up the stairways dim.

We welcome it with pleasure

As all are seated there

Its note so softly telling;

It is the hour of prayer.

Worn by many a footfall

Of noble, good and true;

Who roam in pain no longer

The paths that tears bedew.

While floats the song of evening

From voices glad and free,

Our joyful hearts uniting

In tuneful melody.

In that bright parlor leave me,

Built there so near the sky,

Where silver moonbeams, mellow,

Shine through the windows high.

Then doth our loved preceptor,

With words most fitly spoke,

The richest of all blessings

On each one there invoke.

It is the hour of twilight,

So dusky, dim and gray;

But all our hearts are happy

While tasks are laid away.

Though long years have passed away

I seem to hear his voice

In earnest accents saying:

“Make heaven your early choice.”

Familiar voices greet me,

While loved ones linger near,

And many a fervent hand clasp

Bespeaks that I am dear.

His weary life is ended,

His tollsome work is o’er;

But we hope again to greet him

On the celestial shore.

Not mid my early school days,

Doth sweetest memory hold

So many pleasing treasures,

More precious far than gold.

The cross he bore has vanished;

A glorious crown is won;

With many a star bedecked

The gifts of God’s dear Son.

The companionship of many,

The friendship of the few,

Who through long years of trial

Have proved both firm and true.