Produced by David Widger THE POETICAL WORKS OF OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES [Volume 2 of the 1893 three volume set] POEMS OF THE CLASS OF '29 (1851-1889) BILL AND JOE A SONG OF "TWENTY-NINE" QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS AN IMPROMPTU THE OLD MAN DREAMS REMEMBER--FORGET OUR INDIAN SUMMER MARE RUBRUM THE Boys LINES A VOICE OF THE LOYAL NORTH J. D. R. VOYAGE OF THE GOOD SHIP UNION "CHOOSE YOU THIS DAY WHOM YE WILL SERVE" F. W. C. THE LAST CHARGE OUR OLDEST FRIEND SHERMAN 'S IN SAVANNAH MY ANNUAL ALL HERE ONCE MORE THE OLD CRUISER HYMN FOR THE CLASS-MEETING EVEN-SONG THE SMILING LISTENER OUR SWEET SINGER: J. A. H. C. M., H. S., J. K. W. WHAT I HAVE COME FOR OUR BANKER FOR CLASS-MEETING "AD AMICOS" HOW NOT TO SETTLE IT THE LAST SURVIVOR THE ARCHBISHOP AND GIL BLAS THE SHADOWS BENJAMIN PEIRCE IN THE TWILIGHT A LOVING-CUP SONG THE GIRDLE OF FRIENDSHIP THE LYRE OF ANACREON THE OLD TUNE THE BROKEN CIRCLE THE ANGEL-THIEF AFTER THE CURFEW POEMS OF THE CLASS OF '29 1851-1889 BILL AND JOE COME, dear old comrade, you and I Will steal an hour from days gone by, The shining days when life was new, And all was bright with morning dew, The lusty days of long ago, When you were Bill and I was Joe. Your name may flaunt a titled trail Proud as a cockerel's rainbow tail, And mine as brief appendix wear As Tam O'Shanter's luckless mare; To-day, old friend, remember still That I am Joe and you are Bill. You've won the great world's envied prize, And grand you look in people's eyes, With H O N. and L L. D. In big brave letters, fair to see,-- Your fist, old fellow! off they go!-- How are you, Bill? How are you, Joe? You've worn the judge's ermined robe; You 've taught your name to half the globe; You've sung mankind a deathless strain; You've made the dead past live again The world may call you what it will, But you and I are Joe and Bill. The chaffing young folks stare and say "See those old buffers, bent and gray,-- They talk like fellows in their teens! Mad, poor old boys! That's what it means,"-- And shake their heads; they little know The throbbing hearts of Bill and Joe!-- How Bill forgets his hour of pride, While Joe sits smiling at his side; How Joe, in spite of time's disguise, Finds the old schoolmate in his eyes,-- Those calm, stern eyes that melt and fill As Joe looks fondly up at Bill. Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame? A fitful tongue of leaping flame; A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust, That lifts a pinch of mortal dust; A few swift years, and who can show Which dust was Bill and which was Joe?