The Seniors of 1917 ~ Grove High School ~ Class Poem

Commencement day is coming,
How glad we are 'tis near,
Four years we've looked and waited
And toiled for the end now here ;
And now that we are ready
To leave you, dear old Grove,
We kind of hate to do so—
Depart from you to rove.
To you our hearts are netted,
And something seems to say,
"To Grove you are indebted,
To her is honor due,
Nor shall you once forget her,
But keep her maxims true."

Forget her? no, oh never
Could we let a thing so dear
Slip from us thus neglected
Within a coming year.
In our book of memorandum,
In letters like the sun,
Will always be glittering
This word, this very one ;
And with this e'er before us,
And ever on our mind,
Our loads will be made lighter,
Our spirits more sublime.

What'ere we meet hereafter

Along life's rugged way,
May we overcome as easy
And triumph as today.
Our course has been not easy,
Our task a heavy one,
But so far we've succeeded,
So far the victory won.
In all the days hereafter,
Let follow what there may,
This banner will ever keep
Until our dying day.

So now we take our leave,
And bid adieu to you,
For other things are calling
And to them we must be true.
We must not keep them waiting,
Nor you must we delay,
But go to win our victory
Within some distant day.
One thing we want to ask you,
Before we hasten on,
And that is not to forget us
When from you we have gone.
And so, "Farewell Old Grove,"
And again we say "Farewell,"
But how we hate to leave you
Is not in power to tell.