The weary teacher sat alone,
While twilight gathered on;
And not a sound was heard around,
The boys and girls were gone.

The weary teacher sat alone,
Unnerved and pale was he;
Bowed by a yoke of care he spoke
In sad soliloquy:

" Another round, another round
Of labor thrown away,
Another chain of toil and pain
Dragged through a tedious day.

" Of no avail is constant zeal,
Love's sacrifice is loss,
The hopes of morn, so golden, turn,
Each evening, into dross.

" I squander on a barren field
My strength, my life, my all;
The seeds I sow will never grow,
They perish where they fall. "

He sighed, and low upon his hands
His aching brow he prest,
And like a spell upon him fell
A soothing sense of rest.

Ere long he lifted up his face,
When, on his startled view,
The room by strange and sudden change
To vast proportions grew!

It seemed a senate-hall, and one
Addressed a listening throng;
Each burning word all bosoms stirred,
Applause rose loud and long.

The wildered teacher thought he knew
The speaker's voice and look,
" And for his name, " said he, " the same
Is in my record-book. "

The stately senate-hall dissolved,
A church rose in its place,
Wherein there stood a man of God,
Dispensing words of grace.

And though he heard the solemn voice,
And saw the beard of gray,
The teacher's thought was strangely wrought:
" My yearning heart to-day

" Wept for that youth, whose wayward will
Against persuasion strove,
Compelling force, love's last resource,
To establish laws of love. "

The church, a phantom, vanished soon;
What apparition then?
In classic gloom of alcoved room
An author plied his pen.

" My idlest lad! " the teacher said,
Filled with a new surprise;
" Shall I behold his name enrolled
Among the great and wise? "

The vision of a cottage home
Was now through tears descried:
A mother's face illumed the place
Her influence sanctified.

" A miracle! a miracle!
This matron, well I know,
Was but a wild and careless child
Not half an hour ago.

" Now, when she to her children speaks
Of duty's golden rule,
Her lips repeat, in accents sweet,
My words to her at school. "

Dim on the teacher's brain returned
The humble school-room old;
Upon the wall did darkness fall,
The evening air was cold.

" A dream! " the sleeper, waking, said,
Then paced along the floor,
And, whistling slow and soft and low,
He locked the school-house door.

His musing heart was reconciled
To love's divine delays:
" The bread forth cast returns at last,
Lo, after many days! "