Dallas Herald

For the Dallas Herald.
School-Boy Memories.
BY W. T. G. WEAVER.
"And dear the school-boy spot
We ne'er forget, though there we are forgot."
BYRON.
I
I have seen the old school-house, dear friend of my youth,
Where you and I first went to school;
Where the strict master flogged you for telling the truth,
And declared you had broken his rule!
II
The oak-bench in the corner is standing there yet,
Where we sat when we studied that grammar,
Ev'ry answer in which I was sure to forget-
While reciting it learned you stammer.
III
Ah! have you forgotten, when striving to parse,
How Ellen-that sweet little sinner-
Would laugh at our answers, which truly were sparse;
Though I often have thought that hers were thinner.
IV
You still must remember that terrible row,
When the master whipped Susan for climbing
And made you tip-toe, ah! you recollect how!
For your first and last effort at rhyming.
V
That masterly feat, I shall never forget,
For 'twas it that offended my muse;
And though I am earnestly courting her yet,
She continues her smiles to refuse.
VI
And you, who in all the full tide of your youth,
Were chewing sweet poesy's cud,
Got whipped for combining soft rhyme with stern truth
And your genius cut down in the bud!
VII
"Twas in that old house, where I first fell in love
With the girl-you well know her name;
The master berated and punished me for it,
As if I were to blame!
VIII
But you, dear Jim-ah! your heart was not cold,
For I know that you loved little Kate
More fondly than e'er a miser loved gold--
Oh! hers was a sorrowful fate!
IX
Ah! where are they now! all those frolicsome girls
Who delighted in skipping the rope,
Which we threw o'er their heads in such beautiful whirls?
All married and happy, I hope.
X
But who would have thought in our morning of life,
When we both were so "gallant and trim,"
That each would be luckless in getting a wife-
For we're bachelors yet, dear Jim?
XI
And, to-day, my old friend, as I hear the cold rain
And the autumn winds saddening moan,
I sigh for the love of my boyhood again
Ere my heart was so widowed and lone!
Gainesville, Sept. 25th, 1859.