The Schoolhouse

In The Glen

Upon a handsome street it stands,

Above the glistening pond,

To overlook the country near

And forests far beyond.

Within a quiet, pleasant vale,

The home of famous men,

Is seen this seat of learning, famed

The schoolhouse in the Glen.

Far down the winding Lower Road

As far as artist’s dream

You see the ancient wooden bridge

That spans the silver stream:

While down the rugged mountainside

The gurgling brooklets flow,

With many a flash and many a fall

To meet their doom below.

Still farther up the pleasant road

That all your senses thrills,

You see the lofty Eagle Rock

The monarch of the hills.

Upon its brow the evening shades

Slow gather into night,

And round it lingers to the last

The dying sunset light.

You now have seen the famous views

That cluster round this school,

Where mountain, lake and valley join,

To mock the artist’s rule.

And in this quiet pleasant vale,

The home of famous men,

It stands renowned both far and near —

The School in Rocky Glen.