Rocking on a lazy billow
With roaming eyes,
Cushioned on a dreamy pillow,
Thou read more

Rocking on a lazy billow
With roaming eyes,
Cushioned on a dreamy pillow,
Thou art now wise.
Wake the power within thee slumbering,
Trim the plot that's in thy keeping,
Thou wilt bless the task when reaping
Sweet labour's prize.

A student never forgets an encouraging private word, when it is given with sincere respect and admiration.

A student never forgets an encouraging private word, when it is given with sincere respect and admiration.

Responsibility for learning belongs to the student, regardless of age

Responsibility for learning belongs to the student, regardless of age

Today's students can put dope in their veins or hope in their brains. If they can conceive it and believe read more

Today's students can put dope in their veins or hope in their brains. If they can conceive it and believe it, they can achieve it. They must know it is not their aptitude but their attitude that will determine their altitude.

From his cradle
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one,
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and read more

From his cradle
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one,
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading;
Lofty and sour to them that loved him not,
But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.

Experience is the best of schoolmasters, only the school-fees are
heavy.

Experience is the best of schoolmasters, only the school-fees are
heavy.

Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.

Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.

Strange to the world, he wore a bashful look,
The fields his study, nature was his book.

Strange to the world, he wore a bashful look,
The fields his study, nature was his book.

The studious class are their own victims; they are thin and pale,
their feet are cold, their heads are read more

The studious class are their own victims; they are thin and pale,
their feet are cold, their heads are hot, the night is without
sleep, the day a fear of interruption,--pallor, squalor, hunger,
and egotism. If you come near them and see what conceits they
entertain--they are abstractionists, and spend their days and
nights in dreaming some dream; in expecting the homage of society
to some precious scheme built on a truth, but destitute of
proportion in its presentment, of justness in its application,
and of all energy of will in the schemer to embody and vitalize
it.