OCR Text |
Show QtabKBt WHIlR IXNESJ3IT Jh Gifts ' s -f; tmW1 "fit "'It UlfH li'V1 '.irim-rrw-KMt'rrwl I ml The olden paths nre dim today, long time the weed havo blown In withered dreariness upon the tralla that lie alone; The old home Is a ruin now, a place of crumbling walla, "With all the dust of emptiness strewn thickly In Its hall?. And there lo nothing left of all the daya I loved so woll Except tho sliver nlnginp of tho old sohool bell. A homely thought? A homely thins'- But those wero homely days. And hack they come In memory until I sio the ways I used to walk, ami boo nijalh tho troop of nlrls and boys, And own ORaln tho treasures of my vanished van-ished childish Joys; And op unl on the echoes run, moro Hw-ct than tonpu can Jell The cllnzins rlnKlnK cadonco of tho olS hcIiooI boll. The roses of the Ions a?;o are ahrlvelcd on the stem, Tho trcn are whispering that now I havo no part with them. There Is no old familiar face In all my walks around. And to I stand and brood upon tho chansres I havo found, Until Uiere comes a strain that from tho boy days surely fell-It fell-It Is the mollow music of the old school bell. Tho tone nwep ont acrcos the morn, they drift upon the brteuo And I havo heard prcat oruanc inako their marvil melodies. And I have heurd the battle eonp Of Amds upon tho Den. And Klory-chanto of mountain choirs of Kale and crujr and troc. But never have I heard a sons of half tho myatlo spoil Thit In worknd by tho mairtc of the oKl school hU. |