On Old Man's Thought Of School

Walt Whitman

   AN old man's thought of School;
   An old man, gathering youthful memories and blooms, that youth itself
         cannot.

   Now only do I know you!
   O fair auroral skies! O morning dew upon the grass!

   And these I see--these sparkling eyes,
   These stores of mystic meaning--these young lives,
   Building, equipping, like a fleet of ships--immortal ships!
   Soon to sail out over the measureless seas,
   On the Soul's voyage.

   Only a lot of boys and girls?                                      10
   Only the tiresome spelling, writing, ciphering classes?
   Only a Public School?

   Ah more--infinitely more;
   (As George Fox rais'd his warning cry, "Is it this pile of brick and
         mortar--these dead floors, windows, rails--you call the church?
   Why this is not the church at all--the Church is living, ever living
         Souls.")

   And you, America,
   Cast you the real reckoning for your present?
   The lights and shadows of your future--good or evil?
   To girlhood, boyhood look--the Teacher and the School.

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