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S school is nearly to an end, and closes Friday afternoon; We each will have a piece to speak and then will give a little room For this old chair; you call it mine, as in it sitting, oft I be And to a teacher, nice it is; this kind provision made for me. As all are through and did so well, I introduce my Mr. Chair, Who will be pleased to speak to you, in broken tongue; with accent rare, About his life ; to you no doubt a curious story it will seem, Because his life was not as yours, a playground and a summer's dream. Dear Scholars: I, this old, old chair, and standing here for many a day, Will tell you of my birth and life; give good attention all, I pray, And follow close my truthful tale, be- cause deep interest you will find In what I did and what I wore and what developed through my mind. My father was a giant great; they called him Oak; was large and strong, Therefore kind nature showed the way to bring the future life along, Which through an acorn, first I was; my coat was smooth; I wore a cap; A little crown it seemed to me, and nicer far than any hat. When I had taken needed food, to make me plump and round and neat, The Lady in the moon looked down and said to me in accent sweet; You have a mission, little man; you should not live for idle show, Because you are no butterfly, and to your work should wisely go. A FROST one night was handed down, which touched what you might call my pen; And being ripe, as people say, it "nipped" the feeble little stem That held me to the generous branch, and fed me all the summer through. But when the sun had found the frost, I broke away and bade adieu. And arrow-like I shot to earth, and I was never found alone, Because all things had been prepared for comfort, in my rustic home. I looked about and saw the leaves; they made me such a lovely bed That to go back to dizzy heights, I never would, I frankly said. The squirrels jumped and played about, their little stories they would tell Of how they watched me days ago, and how they saw me when I fell, And while they thought I frightened was; that probably my head would split, They truly knew no harm would come; that harmed I would not be, a bit. I wished to rest, and this I did; my lovely home, my charming bed, Filled every want my heart desired, and every wish within my head. The storms came on, I sweetly slept; beneath a mantle white I lay; They called it snow; it was as pure as incense on a summer's day. When months had gone and spring had come, with ecstasy my heart had welled ; My coat no longer was a fit; the threads no longer firmly held But gave away; so strange it seemed; I hoped my crown was firm and tight, Yet curiously it almost seemed, a soul within was seeking light. In this I seemed to have no voice; kind Nature, faithful to her task Was working out what God designed; I need not any questions ask; was But be submissive, for the time creeping on, and come it would When I should fill the place designed; as father, who a giant stood . My inner heart, a spark contained; the germ we recognize as life; Although I had been living still, the fact thereof was never rife; But as a bud about to burst, that all the world might know and see The workings of a Master mind; so strangely sweet; a mystery. A little tendril, or a shoot, to ease my heart was searching deep; In gentle way, to find a place, and silently its way did creep Until it found the one designed; where mother earth had stored away A morsel for the hungry mouth; here I would spend a life-long day. It ate and thrived, as well it might; earth's sacred table was its own; A worthy heir had it become; pro- nounced by One upon the Throne, And strong it waxed; a tender stem at first, and still it seemed to me Was perfect in its woodland garb; or as a little school-boy tree. The changing seasons brought it joy; the springtime and the summer too; The autumn when it lost its coat; yet left no thought of being blue; Crisp winter was its time of rest; gained strength in every stubborn storm, And I will take the pronoun now; I ne'er was stronger since was born. I looked at others of my age; I strove to keep with them a-pace; My lineage was good indeed, and win I would in life's wise race; I studied well the other shrubs. but studied most what seemed to me The lesson which I best should know; how to upbuild my own good tree. My cover now was known as bark and rough it seemed to those outside. But knowing what reposed beneath, their verdict I have not denied, But kept along with heart and limbs; 'the. taunts fell lightly on my ear, While others talked, I harder worked; dismissed I not the thought of cheer. As I was strong, the sweetest birds amid my branches built their nests, And reared their young, which sang to me, when they were given music- vests. They held their concerts every morn, as close there beamed a mirrored pool, At which they drank, and then agreed, with other birds to go to school. I THINK perhaps three hundred years, the sunshine and the shadows came; The showers and the rainbow too; that brightened up, if it should rain, And when kind Nature had discerned that I no greater here would grow, Some men were sent to cut me down, and to the mill must truly go. With axes keen they chopped and chopped; with them it seemed to be an art; I weakened when they reached what seemed the very tendrils of my heart; No longer I the forests pride; no longer I the monarch strong; No longer should my dancing leaves, sing to the breeze their summer song; I fell; and with a deep, sad moan, I heavy fell upon the ground; The woods, lamenting as it seemed, carried about the solemn sound; The birds and squirrels changed their tune in reverence it seemed for me, For I had fallen as they said; yet fallen as a noble tree. They sawed me up in logs 'tis true; in lengths that they could haul away, And had they not, remember this, I had not been with you today; Because, except in lesser form, con- flicting forces may not fill Their coffers through our precious lives, and take us to a dusty mill. They placed me on a carriage smooth; it seemed to me unwritten law; It took me to some naughty teeth, in what was wisely termed a saw; It sang and buzzed and whirled along, and slashed me to the very heart, In slabs and planks and boards like- wise; identity had lost its art. A planer then they put me through, to quite remove the roughness left By cruel teeth, that ruffled up; that gave me neither joy or rest, But man is wise, he seems to feel, where trees at last are sure to go, Yet often in his weakness guessed, if wisdom shall his pathway show. Yes, I was quarter-sawed they said, and that meant something fine, indeed, And I was sought throughout the town; wood-workers all were now in need Of flawless timber; smooth and nice. Until that time I had not spoke. I simply said, my searching friend, one day you lunched beneath an oak. Beneath the branches of an oak, and they were just a part of me; We both were one, and every part that went to make the giant tree; I shielded you from sun and shower, upon my plot I gave you rest, But now I am at your command, do unto me as seemeth best. Said he I prize your very worth; your reason and your meekness too And I, a man in truest sense, will only justice with you do; He took me to a busy shop, where men were dressed in white it seems; But each had spoke his little piece, and very few were in their teens. They trimmed me in peculiar way; bored holes and filled with wooden pegs. They polished me; I fairly shone; they built me up with jointless legs; A strong support was built around the rear: that seemed a little nack, Designed, the workman said to me, to well support a weary back. When I was finished, as they said, I was the King Bee of the day; Directors of a District came, and paid the price; took me away To where you children come to school; to learn the book; to use the pen; To speak your piece in after years; when youth is passed; when you are men. Now, I, this old and soiled chair, have told the story of my birth, And how I battled many years, to hold my place upon the earth. And if you think your life is hard; if little worries change your hair; Remember well the piece I spoke. Re- member well the Teacher's Chair. |