Address To The Scholars Of The Village School Of--

Composed 1798 or 1799.--Published 1842

[Composed at Goslar, in Germany.--I.F.]

First published in "Poems, chiefly of Early and Late Years," and included, in 1845, among the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces."--Ed.

I come, ye little noisy Crew, Not long your pastime to prevent; I heard the blessing which to you Our common Friend and Father sent. I kissed his cheek before he died; And when his breath was fled, I raised, while kneeling by his side, His hand:--it dropped like lead. Your hands, dear Little-ones, do all That can be done, will never fall Like his till they are dead. By night or day blow foul or fair, Ne'er will the best of all your train Play with the locks of his white hair, Or stand between his knees again.

Here did he sit confined for hours; But he could see the woods and plains, Could hear the wind and mark the showers Come streaming down the streaming panes. Now stretched beneath his grass-green mound He rests a prisoner of the ground. He loved the breathing air, He loved the sun, but if it rise Or set, to him where now he lies, Brings not a moment's care.

Alas! what idle words; but take The Dirge which for our Master's sake And yours, love prompted me to make. The rhymes so homely in attire With learned ears may ill agree, But chanted by your Orphan Quire Will make a touching melody.