Robert Blair

The schoolboy, with his satchel in his hand,
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.

The schoolboy, with his satchel in his hand,
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.

Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd;
How long, how short, we know not:--this we know,
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Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd;
How long, how short, we know not:--this we know,
Duty requires we calmly wait the summons,
Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission.

Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul,
Sweet'ner of life, and solder of society.

Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul,
Sweet'ner of life, and solder of society.

Ye undertakers, tell us,
'Midst all the gorgeous figures you exhibit,
Why is the principal conceal'd, for read more

Ye undertakers, tell us,
'Midst all the gorgeous figures you exhibit,
Why is the principal conceal'd, for which
You make this mighty stir?

The good he scorned
Stalked off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost,
Not to return; or if it read more

The good he scorned
Stalked off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost,
Not to return; or if it did, in visits
Like those of angels, short and far between.