(I can’t get this out of my mind..it is memorized and sticking like glue today 🙂  so I am putting the stanzas here.  I love this poem.  It is so indicative of its time).


Here is another photo from Saturday.


Oh don’t you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt

Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown

Who wept with delight when you gave her a


And trembled with fear at your frown.


In the old church yard in the valley, Ben Bolt

In a corner obscure and alone

They have fitted a slab of granite so gray

And sweet Alice lies under the stone.


Under the hickory tree Ben Bolt

Which stood at the end of the hill,

Together we’ve lain in the noonday shade

And listened to Appleton’s mill.


The mill wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt

the rafters have tumbled in

And a quiet that crawls ’round the walls as you


Has followed the oldest din.


And don’t you remember the school, Ben Bolt

With master so cruel and grim

And the shaded nook by the running brook

Where the children went to swim.


Grass grows on the master’s grave, Ben Bolt

The spring of the brook is dry

And of all the boys who were schoolmates then

There are only you and I.


By Dr. Thomas Dunn and Nelson Kneass, 1848