The Old School House
By The Poet Vocalist
Near an old oak tree by a sparkling rill
Stands the old school house at the foot of the hill;
It's storm beaten walls, now rotted by age,
Speaks a volume of words for history's page,
It's small gothic windows, it's old oaken door
Hath fallen to decay with moss covered o'er,
It's joy clad walls that once shone with bright red
Reminds me of girlhood - of joys that have fled.
Neath that old oak tree that shaded the roof
How oft have I sported in days of my youth;
How oft have I stood by that sparkling rill
To listen to the music iit murmurs forth still.
Along its green banks how oft have I strayed
to listen to the birds that sung in the glad,
Oh, then with a heart joyous and free,
The world seemd a garden of flowers to me!
That old school house that stood many a blast,
Hath fallen to decay, - hath perished at last;
Its clear sounding bell that hung o'er the door,
Hath ceased its loud peals - 'twill be heard no more.
That old oak tree that so many storms hath defied,
'Neath the axe of the woodman hath fallen in its pride;
That sparkling rill, too, must soon disappear,
Then, all will have perished I held the most dear!