,
     And what than this could be more mete beside
       That twinned in death, their souls should pass away?

     There comes a memory of the bugle horn,
       Winding a blast, as with their daily load,
     The prancing coach-steeds dashed out in the morn
       To run the toll-gates of the turnpike road.

     Behold the change? now brakes are whistled down,
       And screaming engines wake the Mountain air;
     There is no longer, as of old, a Town
       Committee, but a Council and a Mayor.

     Go where the lake sleeps in the summer night,
       Kissed by the winds that on its bosom play,
     When the round moon sends down her fullest light,
       And evening glories in soft splendor lay.

     And you can almost fancy then that over,
       The moonlit mirror of the tranquil tide,
     You see the water spirits rise and hover,
       And on the sheen in laughing lightness glide.

     And I have seen those waters as they flow,
       Down on their course past bridge and wheel and mill,
     Where we as boys would "in-a-swimming go;"
       Do the boys swim in "Sunnygony" still?

     Oh, fellow scholar who along with me
       Learned the first rudiments of ball and book
     Within the grounds of the Academy,
       In vain for that old landmark now you look.

     Gone with the Master, yet a memory lingers,
       And will forever consecrate the spot,
     Nor can the power of Time's effacing fingers,
       While life shall last, the recollection blot.

     Teacher and pupils, few remain, and they
       Far on in years, lean on a slender staff;
     The school-house, all you see of that to-day
       Is shown you there upon its photograph.

     Change is on all things, and I see it here;
       Land that then grew the turnip and "potater,"
     Now blooms in flowers and costs exceeding dear,
       Bringing some thousand dollars by the acre!

     And villas crown the rising hill-tops round,
       And stately mansions stand adorned with art,
     And liveried coaches roll with rumbling so