Hall Here let the wisdom they have gained By practice, word or pen, Be given forth without reserve To aid their brethren. For, in these days of go-ahead, The farmer, great or small, Who does not work with hand and heart Will get a sudden fall. But tho'we may dislike the thought, It is none the less true The day will come when Hall Will disappear from view. Touched by the wasting hand of time, Those beams will yet decay, The rain and hail descending oft, Will wear those walls away. But times' destroying hand can ne'er From memory erase The thoughts that once within the mind Have found a lodging place. For memory like a faithful scribe, Keeps writing all the while Our thoughts and words and actions down And keeping them on file. Then let us all who in this hall May meet for council wise Speak good and true and noble thoughts Since memory never dies. Then whilst eternal ages roll We one and all shall find The hours spent in Marshfield Hall Have left no sting behind. By William Irving Thompson