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    The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 05 Poems of the Class of '29 (1851-1889)
    The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 05 Poems of the Class of '29 (1851-1889)
    The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 05 Poems of the Class of '29 (1851-1889)
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    The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 05 Poems of the Class of '29 (1851-1889)

    By Oliver Wendell Holmes

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 05 Poems of the Class of '29 (1851-1889)
    Author

    Oliver Wendell Holmes

    Oliver Wendell Holmes was an American physician, poet, and polymath based in Boston. A member of the Fireside Poets, he was acclaimed by his peers as one of the best writers of the day. His most famous prose works are the “Breakfast Table” series, which began with The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table.

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      The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 05 Poems of the Class of '29 (1851-1889) - Oliver Wendell Holmes

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Vol. 5, by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Vol. 5 Poems Of The Class Of '29 (1851-1889)

      Author: Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

      Release Date: September 30, 2004 [EBook #7392]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETRY OF HOLMES, VOL. 5 ***

      Produced by David Widger

      THE POETICAL WORKS

      OF

      OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

      [Volume 2 of the 1893 three volume set]

      POEMS OF THE CLASS OF '29 (1851-1889)

           BILL AND JOE

           A SONG OF TWENTY-NINE

           QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

           AN IMPROMPTU

           THE OLD MAN DREAMS

           REMEMBER—FORGET

           OUR INDIAN SUMMER

           MARE RUBRUM

           THE Boys

           LINES

           A VOICE OF THE LOYAL NORTH

           J. D. R.

           VOYAGE OF THE GOOD SHIP UNION

           CHOOSE YOU THIS DAY WHOM YE WILL SERVE

           F. W. C.

           THE LAST CHARGE

           OUR OLDEST FRIEND

           SHERMAN 'S IN SAVANNAH

           MY ANNUAL

           ALL HERE

           ONCE MORE

           THE OLD CRUISER

           HYMN FOR THE CLASS-MEETING

           EVEN-SONG

           THE SMILING LISTENER

           OUR SWEET SINGER: J. A.

           H. C. M., H. S., J. K. W.

           WHAT I HAVE COME FOR

           OUR BANKER

           FOR CLASS-MEETING

           AD AMICOS

           HOW NOT TO SETTLE IT

           THE LAST SURVIVOR

           THE ARCHBISHOP AND GIL BLAS

           THE SHADOWS

           BENJAMIN PEIRCE

           IN THE TWILIGHT

           A LOVING-CUP SONG

           THE GIRDLE OF FRIENDSHIP

           THE LYRE OF ANACREON

           THE OLD TUNE

           THE BROKEN CIRCLE

           THE ANGEL-THIEF

           AFTER THE CURFEW

      POEMS OF THE CLASS OF '29

      1851-1889

      BILL AND JOE

      COME, dear old comrade, you and I

      Will steal an hour from days gone by,

      The shining days when life was new,

      And all was bright with morning dew,

      The lusty days of long ago,

      When you were Bill and I was Joe.

      Your name may flaunt a titled trail

      Proud as a cockerel's rainbow tail,

      And mine as brief appendix wear

      As Tam O'Shanter's luckless mare;

      To-day, old friend, remember still

      That I am Joe and you are Bill.

      You've won the great world's envied prize,

      And grand you look in people's eyes,

      With H O N. and L L. D.

      In big brave letters, fair to see,—

      Your fist, old fellow! off they go!—

      How are you, Bill? How are you, Joe?

      You've worn the judge's ermined robe;

      You 've taught your name to half the globe;

      You've sung mankind a deathless strain;

      You've made the dead past live again

      The world may call you what it will,

      But you and I are Joe and Bill.

      The chaffing young folks stare and say

      "See those old buffers, bent and gray,—

      They talk like fellows in their teens!

      Mad, poor old boys! That's what it means,"—

      And shake their heads; they little know

      The throbbing hearts of Bill and Joe!—

      How Bill forgets his hour of pride,

      While Joe sits smiling at his side;

      How Joe, in spite of time's disguise,

      Finds the old schoolmate in his eyes,—

      Those calm, stern eyes that melt and fill

      As Joe looks fondly up at Bill.

      Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame?

      A fitful tongue of leaping flame;

      A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust,

      That lifts a pinch of mortal dust;

      A few swift years, and who can show

      Which dust was Bill and which was Joe?

      The weary idol takes his stand,

      Holds out his bruised and aching hand,

      While gaping thousands come and go,—

      How vain it seems, this empty show!

      Till all at once his pulses thrill;—

      'T is poor old Joe's God bless you, Bill!

      And shall we breathe in happier spheres

      The names that pleased our mortal ears;

      In some sweet lull of harp and song

      For earth-born spirits none too long,

      Just whispering of the world below

      Where this was Bill and that was Joe?

      No matter; while our home is here

      No sounding name is half so dear;

      When fades at length our lingering day,

      Who cares what pompous tombstones say?

      Read on the hearts that love us still,

      Hic jacet Joe. Hic jacet Bill.

      A SONG OF TWENTY-NINE

      1851

      THE summer dawn is breaking

      On Auburn's tangled bowers,

      The golden light is waking

      On Harvard's ancient towers;

      The sun is in the sky

      That must see us do or die,

      Ere it shine on the line

      Of the CLASS OF '29.

      At last the day is ended,

      The tutor screws no more,

      By doubt and fear attended

      Each hovers round the door,

      Till the good old Praeses cries,

      While the tears stand in his eyes,

      "You have passed, and are classed

      With the Boys of '29."

      Not long are they in making

      The college halls their own,

      Instead of standing shaking,

      Too bashful to be known;

      But they kick the Seniors' shins

      Ere the second week begins,

      When they stray in the way

      Of the BOYS OF '29.

      If a jolly set is trolling

      The last Der Freischutz airs,

      Or a cannon bullet rolling

      Comes bouncing down the stairs,

      The tutors, looking out,

      Sigh, "Alas! there is no doubt,

      'T is the noise of the Boys

      Of the CLASS OF '29."

      Four happy years together,

      By storm and sunshine tried,

      In changing wind and weather,

      They rough it side by side,

      Till they hear their Mother cry,

      You are fledged, and you must fly,

      And the bell tolls the knell

      Of the days of '29.

      Since then, in peace or trouble,

      Full many a year has rolled,

      And life has counted double

      The days that then we told;

      Yet we'll end as we've begun,

      For though scattered, we are one,

      While each year sees us here,

      Round the board of '29.

      Though fate may throw between us

      The mountains or the sea,

      No time shall ever wean us,

      No distance set us free;

      But around the yearly board,

      When the flaming pledge is poured,

      It shall claim every name

      On the roll of '29.

      To yonder peaceful ocean

      That glows with sunset fires,

      Shall reach the warm emotion

      This welcome day inspires,

      Beyond the ridges cold

      Where a brother toils for gold,

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