That moment a young and merry group
Came bounding across the lea,
With rosy cheek, with ball and with hoop
They came to the old elm tree.

They paused awhile in their noisy play
To gaze on the aged man,
While he wiped his falling tears away
And in trembling tones began:

"I would not cloud for the world your joy,
Or have you less happy for me--
For I have been like yourselves a boy
Though I'm now the wreck you see.

"But let the words of wisdom and truth
In your memories be enrolled,--
And in the days of your sunny youth
_Be kind to the poor and old_!"

The children wept as they heard him speak,
And forgetful of their play
They wiped the tears from his furrowed cheek,
And they smoothed his locks of gray.

He laid his hand with a tender air
By turns on each youthful head,
Then lifting his faded eyes in prayer,
"God bless you!" the old man said.