Batch of Boys, swimming, chattering, diving.
"Stop" you said to the driver; "Come here" you called to the Lads.
They came trooping, dripping, out of the Pool.
A change came over you; flinging off your coat,
your hat, you arose to your feet.
There they stood before you, naked, unabashed, curious.
A complacent smile, flickered across the bearded
face of the Wise Wizard. He must have known!
He must have timed your arrival at that particular
spot, at that particular moment.
But even the Wizard could not have known what was to follow.
Without a word of explanation, you gave them, that
crowd of naked Boys--gave it, as you had never
given it before, doubtless, as you never
gave it again--your




"Old Swimmin' Hole"


Oh! the old swimmin' hole! whare the crick so still and deep
Looked like a baby-river that was laying half asleep,
And the gurgle of the worter round the drift jest below
Sounded like the laugh of something we onc't ust to know
Before we could remember anything but the eyes
Of the angels lookin' out as we left Paradise;
But the merry days of youth is beyond our controle,
And its hard to part ferever with the old swimmin'-hole.