Ode to the Hill: An Appreciation
There buried within the brown-red bricks lies stories of old,
Boys sojourning to the light with youthful bravado bold,
Ne’er to be forgotten with haste most go,
Nestling within their pencil’d minds whilst they sow.
Inside these storied halls rooted upon hallowed grounds,
Lies a simple truth that mystic time resounds,
That as boys grow to become men,
The plight whose soul revolves over and again.
Always shall the kiln'd clay stand to test,
What most young fear when pressed:
That knowledge boasts an eternal bliss,
Rightly favored by fortune’s sweetly kiss.
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