The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1876-04-08
Che 9utland 1ailu Glnbe.
SATURDAY, APRIL 8, 1876.
"AD AMIGOS"


1s29--1sI6.
"Dumq,ic rirent genua
H deceit, obductd solUdttr Jronte seneetds."
The muse OF boyhoods fervid hour
Grows tame as skies grow chill and hazy;
Where once she sought pasSOn-nower,
She only hopes to ind daisy.
Well, who the changing world bewsils9
Who asks to have IL stay unaltered?
Shall grown-up kittens chase their tails?
shali colts be never shod or haltered.?
Are we "the boys, that used to make
The tables ring with noisy follies,
Whose deep-lungd laughter oft would shake
The ceiling vita Its thunder-volleys?
Are we the youths with lips unshorn,
At beautys feet nwinkled suitors,
Whose memories reach traditions morn
The days OF prehistoric tutors'
"The boys" we knew-but who are these
Whose heads might serve FOR Plutarch's
sagcs,
Or Fox's martyrs, II you please,
Or hermts OF tue dismal ages?
''The boys" we knew-can these be those
Their cheeks with mornings blush were
Where are the Harrys, johns and Joes
With whom we once were well acquainted?
II we are they, we're not the same;
IL they are we why then we're masking
Do tel us, neighbor Whats-your-name,
Who are you?-What's the use or asking?
You once were George, or BIZ, or Ben;
There's you yourselt-there's YOU that other;
know you now-l knew you then
You used to be your younger brother.
You both are all our own to-day
But an ! hear q warning whisper,
Yon roseate hour that fits away
Repeats the Romans sad pdulispcr.
Come back come back we've need OF you
To pay you for your word OF warning;
Well battle your wings in brighter dew
Than ever wet the lids OF morning.
Behold this cup; It's mystic vino
No aliens lip has ever tasted;
The blood OF friendships clinging vine,
Stll flowing, flowing, yet unwasted;
Old time forgot his running sand
And laid hts hour-glasS down to I'LL It,
And Death himself with gentle hand
Has touched the challce not to spill It.
Each bubble rounding at the brlm
Is rainbowed with It's magic story;
The shining DAYS with age grown dim
Are dressed again in robes OF glory;
In all its freshness spring returns,
with song of birds ana blossoms tender;
once more the torch OF passion burns,
Ard youth Is here In all Its splendor.
Hope swings her anchor like toy,
love laughs and shows the silver arrow
We knew 80 well as man and boy.
The shaft that stings through bone and mar
row;
Again our kindlng pulses beat,
With tangled curls our fingers daily,
And bygone beauties smile as sweet
AS fresh-blown lilies OF the valley.
o blessed hour! we may forget
Its wreaths, It's rhymes, It's songs. Its laugh
ter,
But not the loving eyes we met
Whose light shall gild the dit hereafter.
How every heart 10 each grows warm.
Is one In sunshine's ray? We share 1t,
Is one In sorrows binding storm?
look, a word, Shall help him bear 1t.
1.-The boys" we were 1.-THE boys" Wen BIO
AS long as three, as two, are creeping;
Then here's to him-ah! which is he p
Who lives TIL all the rest are sleeping;
A life with tranquil comfort blest,
The young mans heath, the rich mans
plenty,
All earth can give that earth has blest,
and heaven at forescore years and twenty
[Olivcr Wendell Holmes,