POETRY.
THE SCHOOLMASTER.
SUPPOSING it was mine to claim, If I had sought it, modest fame—
Friends think of me as Might-have-been And pity me my life's routine, Because, a scholar, week by week I guide the young to early Greek, And lowly cult of mood and tense Makes havoc of the glowing sense.
Not I complain ; the subtle blaze That thrilled me in my younger days Is quenched ; and now this study fire Fulfils my uttermost desire.
Yes, all I ask is this retreat— The quiet evening pipe is sweet—.
A placid book, a lazy chair, And (not too close) I love to hear The cool clear voices of the boys Making a young, unhallowed noise.
These simple pleasures never pall; I am the youngest of them all.
HUGH SYDENHAM.