TO T. E. PAGE.
(Lines written for a gathering of his friends.)
DEAR Page, you see us gathered here, In friendly but informal session, To mark the closing of the year
That severs you from your profession; Some who can only claim at best The tie of friendship as late corners, And some whose love has stood the test Of more than five-and-thirty summers The pedagogue too often plays The humble role of gerund-grinder ; Of that great calling's nobler traits We hail in you a live reminder; Not seeking to constrain or cramp Your pupils with pedantic fetters, But lightening, with wisdom's lamp, Their outlook upon life and letters.
You first unlocked the golden spell, For many a philistine Carthusian, That lives within the Mantuan shell, Or lurks within the fount Bandusian. With you they shared the hopes and fears Of the" divine long-suffring " roamer : You opened first their alien ears To organ-voiced, great-hearted Homer.
We elders too, whose classics grow More rusty as our heads grow hoary, Still feel the ancient fervour glow When you recall their morning glory.
Once more the Theban train sweeps by ; Once more the Siren voices lull us ; Once more we hearken to the cry Wrung from the heart-strings of Catullns. You have not swum into the ken Of those who run the picture papers, And form their estimates of men
Less on their merits than their capers.
What should they know of such as you, A class now daily growing fewer, Who do their duty and eschew All traffic with the interviewer Too simple to assume a pose, Too fine a critic to be precious, With lticid, unaffected prose Yon intermittently refresh us : For there are editors who, vest By literary affectation, Find in your articles a text Incapable of emendation.
Whatever things are void of stain, Whatever things are true and tender, Have ever found in you a sane, A staunch, a chivalrous defender. Stern in rebuke when party spite Outruns the dictates of decorum, And when presumptuous fools show fight
A very malleus stultorum.
Though you are freed from school routine — Tam rude merito donatus- And must in many a well-known scene Create a much-deplored hiatus, Yet shall you in retirement find The prelude to some high endeavour, And reap the harvest of a mind That sought the best and sought it ever.
C. L. G.
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