The Close Of The Session

A poem by Robert Fuller Murray

The Session's over. We must say farewell
To these east winds and to this eastern sea,
For summer comes, with swallow and with bee,
With many a flower and many a golfing swell.

No more the horribly discordant bell
Shall startle slumber; and all men agree
That whatsoever other things may be
A cause of sorrow, this at least is well.

The class-room shall not open wide its doors,
Or if it does, such opening will be vain;
The gown shall hang unused upon a nail;
South Street shall know us not; we'll wipe the Scores
From our remembrance; as for Mutto's Lane,
Yea, even the memory of this shall fail.