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II
Old Home of many a year,For old sake's sake most dear,
Fate, whom no Mortal may
Beyond the appointed day
Thwart, hath ordained that we
At length go forth from Thee!
What Fate decrees must be!
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Thee, Home, wherein we've met
This many a day in brave
Companionship. Still linger
Our hearts around thy walls,
Whose every nook recalls
Thoughts of what there hath been
Of grave or jocund scene,
That Time's relentless finger
Never shall quite efface.
Thou art a reverend Place
Evermore to each and all,
Who've won within thy Hall
Knowledge, and Hope, and Nerve,
And Friendship's Help, to serve
With yet more faithful Heart
Our Mistress—Art!
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