That boy with the grave mathematical look Made believe he had written a wonderful book, And the ROYAL SOCIETY thought it was true! So they chose him right in; a good joke it was, too! States Supreme Court, B. R. Curtis (the 'boy with the three-decker brain'); the great preacher, James Freeman Clarke; Professor Benjamin Peirce ('that boy with the grave mathematical look'); and the author of America,' S. F. Smith. For a full list of members of the class, see the Cambridge Edition of Holmes's Poetical Works, p. 340. 1 Hon. Francis B. Crowninshield, Speaker of the Massachusetts House of Representatives. 2 G. W. Richardson, of Worcester, Massachusetts. Hon. George L. Davis. 4 why, yes! God bless me ! and was it so long ago ? I fear I'm growing forgetful, as old folks do, you know; 4 Holmes's fiftieth birthday. And when on the western summits the fading light appears, It touches with rosy fingers the last of my fifty years. There have been both men and women whose hearts were firm and bold, But there never was one of fifty that loved to say 'I'm old;' So any elderly person that strives to shirk his years, Make him stand up at a table and try him by his peers. Now here I stand at fifty, my jury gathered round; Sprinkled with dust of silver, but not yet silver-crowned, Ready to meet your verdict, waiting to hear it told; Guilty of fifty summers; speak! Is the verdict old? No 40 say that his hearing fails him; say that his sight grows dim; Say that he's getting wrinkled and weak in back and limb, Losing his wits and temper, but pleading, to make amends, The youth of his fifty summers he finds in his twenty friends. 20 1859. (1877.) Pours the swift rain-drops, blending, as they fall, In rushing river-tides ! Yon stream, whose sources run Turned by a pebble's edge, 1 This and the three following poems are from the Professor at the Breakfast Table. included in that volume. The Boys' also is THE piping of our slender, peaceful reeds Whispers uncared for while the trumpets bray; Song is thin air; our hearts' exulting play Beats time but to the tread of marching deeds, Following the mighty van that Freedom leads, Her glorious standard flaming to the day! The crimsoned pavement where a hero bleeds Breathes nobler lessons than the poet's lay. Strong arms, broad breasts, brave hearts, are better worth Than strains that sing the ravished echoes dumb. Hark! 't is the loud reverberating drum Rolls o'er the prairied West, the rock-bound North: The myriad-handed Future stretches forth Its shadowy palms. Behold, we come, we come! Turn o'er these idle leaves. Such toys as these Were not unsought for, as, in languid dreams, We lay beside our lotus-feeding streams, Glare from the mustering clouds whose blackness seems Too swollen to hold its lightning from the trees. BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT FOR SISTER CAROLINE MARCH 25, 1861 SHE has gone, and pride, she has left us in passion Our stormy-browed sister, so long at our side! She has torn her own star from our firmament's glow, And turned on her brother the face of a foe! |