My schoolmates all are blessed to-day,
Their lessons conning o'er;
O, how I wish that I were now
Within that school-room door!
My teacher sits beside her desk,
With a smile upon her face,
Until she looks around the room,
And sees my vacant place.
My heart is aching while I walk
Along the mountain glade;
I love the trees, the rippling stream,
But sigh that I have strayed.
O, there's no joy in the hours of play,
If snatched from the study-time;
No music in the wild-bird's song,
While I hear the school-bell chime.
O, then, I'll seek my school again,
My teacher's rules obey,
Nor wander, as a truant boy,
And waste another day.
[Illustration: "ALONG THE MOUNTAIN GLADE"]