Classic Poem

'Tis well nigh forty years ago,
This gallant company set forth,
A warmer-hearted set, I trow,
Hath never graced the earth;
And here we are, — a veteran ring, —
A remnant old and gray, —
Resolved, whate'er the morn may bring,
To-night we will be gay, dear Boys,
Oh, very glad and gay.
Then close the ranks, touch elbows, Boys,
Old friends are dropping fast,
Close up, close up a manly front,
'Twill all come right at last, dear Boys,
Sure to come right at last.

What's three score years to men like you?
The spirit scorns a base control, —
Old Time your sturdy backs may bow,
He cannot bend the soul;
The eye that scans an honest life
Nor age nor clouds may dim;
The heart with generous promptings rife
Sings a perpetual hymn, dear Boys,
A bright, perpetual hymn.

Shall we begrudge the tender tear
To those who've stemmed the Lethean wave?
Ah, no, 'twill cast no shadows here
To name them in the grave;
We loved them, " there's no fear in love, "
Then reach across the sea,
And hail them in their homes above,
Bright forms of memory, dear Boys,
Best forms of memory.

A moment longer, — he whose name
To-night goes round your festive board,
In stammering words and couplets tame
Thus pledges heart and word;
" We may not meet again 'till death
Unite us 'neath his power,

But while I draw the vital breath
I'll not forget this hour, dear Boys,
Never forget this hour! "
Then close the ranks, touch elbows, Boys,
Old friends are dropping fast;
Close up, close up a manly front,
'Twill all come right at last, dear Boys,
Sure to come right at last.