On The Last Day of Hill Abbey

Fresh in thy mind but dull in thy sight,
Venture to unravel the world in quite.
A fraction of knowledge and a faint ray,
Equipped with our books and blankets of gray.

Resolved thoughts personally and here,
The divided may quarrel in Christian cheer.
So the man of age sat by the young,
A song of smoke by the women sung.

The youthful men crow as a game,
To silence the other, passing the shame.
Though it may all seem as a group for the shabby,
We give regrets that we leave Hill Abbey.

I thank you Wes for your Socratic mind,
A gradeless school is for us, our kind.

By Evan Gunn Wilson

1 comment:

Caleb said...

Props. I do enjoy this one.