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SCHOOL AND SCHOOLFELLOWS.
Now laughing at my tutor.
Where are my friends? I am alone;
Some lie beneath the Churchyard stone, Twelve years ago I was a boy,
And some—before the Speaker; A happy boy, at Drury's.
And some compose a tragedy,
And some compose a rondo; Twelve years ago!-how many a thought And some draw swords for liberty, Of faded pains and pleasures
And some draw pleas for John Doe. Those whisper'd syllables have brought
From Memory's hoarded treasures ! The fields, the farms, the bats, the
books, The glories and disgraces, The voices of dear friends, the looks
Of old familiar faces !
Kind Mater smiles again to me,
As bright as when we parted; I seem again the frank, the free,
Stout-limb'd, and simple-hearted!
And shunning every warning;
No chill except Long Morning:
Now stopping Harry Vernon's ball
That rattled like a rocket;
Now drinking from the pewter;
Tom Mill was used to blacken eyes
Without the fear of sessions;
As much as false professions;
A magistrate pedantic;
Beneath the wide Atlantic.
Wild Nick, whose oaths made such a din,
Does Dr. Martext's duty;