Book may have numerous typos, missing text, images, or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book from the publisher. 1891. Excerpt: ... 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 Tarn 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 HON. 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; -- 'Tis poor old Joe's "God ble...
Book may have numerous typos, missing text, images, or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book from the publisher. 1891. Excerpt: ... 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 Tarn 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 HON. 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; -- 'Tis poor old Joe's "God ble...