Nearer to the stirring places, Near the thoroughfare of business, In the active, growing city I am chanting now in measures, Was erected in this era, In its earliest beginning, Yet another famous building, The Academy of Garrard. Pile revered in ancient glory, Pile renowned in modern story, Ever honored Alma Mater Of distinguished men and women. Here the noble cause of learning First received the great momentum That has sent it rolling downward, In the hands of willing helpers, To the ages of the present. Here on walls of polished plaster, Were inscribed in myriad numbers, Names of unforgotten heroes, Names of genius and of talent, Names beloved in social circles, Names renowned on fields of battle, Honored names in senate chamber. And the sacred pile was cherished, By each absent son and daughter. Many years beyond this period, (Well I ken the oft told story,) On a sunny day in autumn, When the leaves were "sere and yellow," When the woods were melancholy, There were little children clustered In this notable old school-room; There were little children striving, For the prize-book and the medal, Children conning words in triumph, Down the line of b-a-baker, Children frowning o'er the problems Of the higher rules and text-books, When a shadow crossed the doorway, And there followed it, a stranger. Then the children quickly started, At the bidding of the teacher, And in attitude of homage, Gravely gazed upon the stranger. On his venerable person, On his hair all white and silvered, On his brow all seamed and furrowed, On his countenance so noble, Gazed with looks of silent wonder. He surveyed the group with pleasure, He beheld them with emotion; And his heart was touched within him, All his spirit stirred within him, At their prompt, respectful greeting, At their attitude of welcome. Turning then to front the teacher, He said, "Madam, I am weary, I am travel-worn and dusty, I have wandered long and restless, I have come from distant regions, To behold this treasured school-house, See again its wall all penciled, With the names I well remember, With the deeds of my school-fellows; To review once more the playground, Where my boyhood's days were merry; Jackman's Cave, the pond, the meadow, And the spring at Captain Baker's; All these places I have trodden, Where we played and where we skated, Where we loved and where we quarreled, Where we shouted joyous laughter, Where we fought our little battles: All these haunts of cloud and sunshine Are so bright on mem'ry's pages." Then he paused and looked about him, But alas! the walls were covered, Covered o'er with paper hangings, Of the style so new and modern, And the names were lost forever, To the eyes of eager mortals, To the gaze of wand'ring schoolmates. Yet their impress e'er must linger, Linger on till time shall sever