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. 'I know it,' I said, 'old fellow; you speak the solemn truth; A man can't live to a hundred and likewise keep his youth; But what if the ten years coming shall silver-streak my hair, You know I shall then be forty; of course I shall not care. 'At forty a man grows heavy and tired of fun and noise; Leaves dress to the five-and-twenties and love to the silly boys; No foppish tricks at forty, no pinching of waists and toes, But high-low shoes and flannels and good thick worsted hose.' 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. But one fine August morning I found myself awake: My birthday: - By Jove, I'm forty! Yes, forty and no mistake! Why, this is the very milestone, I think I used to hold, That when a fellow had come to, a fellow would then be old! But that is the young folks' nonsense; they 're full of their foolish stuff; A man's in his prime at forty, - I see that plain enough; THE TWO STREAMS 1 BEHOLD the rocky wall That down its sloping sides (1877.) Pours the swift rain-drops, blending, as they fall, In rushing river-tides ! 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 Has our love all died out? Have its altars grown cold? Were not unsought for, as, in languid Has the curse come at last which the fathers 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. foretold? Then Nature must teach us the strength of the chain That her petulant children would sever in vain. They may fight till the buzzards are gorged with their spoil, Till the harvest grows black as it rots in the soil, |