The Old School House Poem by John A. Hancock

In among the evergreens and beside the maple trees
Stands the old school house quiet and mysteriously
Its painted sides are chipped and worn
The windows are broken in
The rusty school bell hangs silently, never to ring again
I peeked into the windows
And the memories flashed quickly by
Of when I was a young boy
Sitting in row number five
I can almost see the teacher
And the little boys and girls
As if I were back in time
To that very special world