 | Poems of home and country |  |
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SCHOOLS AND SCHOLARS.
SENTIMENTAL.
THE SEAL ONCE LAID ON PLIANT WAX.
ADDRESSED TO A TEACHER.
The seal, once laid on pliant wax,Stamps its own image, cancelled never;
The teacher's lineaments on the soul
Their vivid impress leave forever.
Lay careful hand on head and heart
While waits the youth at life's fair portal;
So shall your work, in beauty wrought,
Be beauty, stamped with life immortal.
NOTHING WITHOUT EFFORT.
Some nice things, you think, can be done without toil,
As weeds grow, untilled, from the generous soil;
You guess men in black, with the cheerfullest air,
Eat bread without work, and live without care;
So happy they float, like clouds in the blue,
You think, very likely, they 've nothing to do
But to read pleasant books and court life with the Muses,
While the hand of the workman is sore his bruises.
But no farmer grows rich who sets up for a shirk,
Nor merchant, whose aim is to live without work;
There is labor more wearing than digging a drain,—
Oh, that some men would try it,—'t is work with the brain!
As weeds grow, untilled, from the generous soil;
You guess men in black, with the cheerfullest air,
Eat bread without work, and live without care;
So happy they float, like clouds in the blue,
You think, very likely, they 've nothing to do
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While the hand of the workman is sore his bruises.
But no farmer grows rich who sets up for a shirk,
Nor merchant, whose aim is to live without work;
There is labor more wearing than digging a drain,—
Oh, that some men would try it,—'t is work with the brain!
I'll tell you a secret,—the song of the poet
Springs not with a gush before one can know it,
As breaks from the fountain the tinkling rill
And flows from the side to the foot of the hill.
The thought, born to shine in his beautiful strain,
Lies, like gems to be cut, in the depth of his brain;
But to clothe it with beauty, to point it with wit,
To fit to each line a shaft that will hit,—
To gather the glories, his lay to enfold,
From earth, air, and sea, from the crimson and gold,
That glow in the path of the opening day,
Or burnish the sky as the light fades away,—
Is never the work of a glance and a dash,
As the fluid-electric shoots out with a flash;—
The search for a jingle, the chase for a rhyme,
Is a toil to the brain, and the labor of time.
As a steamer,—the monster,—caught fast in the narrows,
Or striving, in summer, to pass over shallows,
Drives fierce on her pathway, ascending the stream,
But is forced to fall back with a shock and a scream,
To try a fresh channel, to make a new tack,
Still foiled in her efforts, still doomed to push back,
Till at last, as if borne by a freak of good chance,
She floats o'er the shoal, and shoots, with a glance,
To the sea of deep water, and glides through the tide,
Where balmy winds kiss her, and navies might ride,—
So, often, the poet, intent on his chime,
Seeks, earnest, to match some choice word with a rhyme;
But bootless his efforts,—his search all in vain,—
He backs off from the shallow and tries a new strain,
Gives up the dear word on which swung his fine thought,
Abandons the rhyme, long chased, but ne'er caught,
Creeps back through the shallows,—recasts his whole plan,
And, foiled where he wishes, he sails where he can,
Then floats, proud in success, o'er the glorious main,
Till the rhyme-search shall ground him in shallows again.
O wisdom of Virgil!—the bard of the ages,—
A wisdom well worthy of prophets and sages,
No genius, untoiling, to glory is whirled;
“A line in a day” brings the praise of the world.
Springs not with a gush before one can know it,
As breaks from the fountain the tinkling rill
And flows from the side to the foot of the hill.
The thought, born to shine in his beautiful strain,
Lies, like gems to be cut, in the depth of his brain;
But to clothe it with beauty, to point it with wit,
To fit to each line a shaft that will hit,—
To gather the glories, his lay to enfold,
From earth, air, and sea, from the crimson and gold,
That glow in the path of the opening day,
Or burnish the sky as the light fades away,—
Is never the work of a glance and a dash,
As the fluid-electric shoots out with a flash;—
The search for a jingle, the chase for a rhyme,
Is a toil to the brain, and the labor of time.
As a steamer,—the monster,—caught fast in the narrows,
Or striving, in summer, to pass over shallows,
Drives fierce on her pathway, ascending the stream,
But is forced to fall back with a shock and a scream,
To try a fresh channel, to make a new tack,
Still foiled in her efforts, still doomed to push back,
Till at last, as if borne by a freak of good chance,
She floats o'er the shoal, and shoots, with a glance,
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Where balmy winds kiss her, and navies might ride,—
So, often, the poet, intent on his chime,
Seeks, earnest, to match some choice word with a rhyme;
But bootless his efforts,—his search all in vain,—
He backs off from the shallow and tries a new strain,
Gives up the dear word on which swung his fine thought,
Abandons the rhyme, long chased, but ne'er caught,
Creeps back through the shallows,—recasts his whole plan,
And, foiled where he wishes, he sails where he can,
Then floats, proud in success, o'er the glorious main,
Till the rhyme-search shall ground him in shallows again.
O wisdom of Virgil!—the bard of the ages,—
A wisdom well worthy of prophets and sages,
No genius, untoiling, to glory is whirled;
“A line in a day” brings the praise of the world.
WHERE ARE THE BOYS OF EARLIER YEARS?
“THE BOYS.”
Where are the boys of earlier years.
Once known and loved so well?
Where childhood's hopes and childhood's fears,
O Muse of history, tell?
Once known and loved so well?
Where childhood's hopes and childhood's fears,
O Muse of history, tell?
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Where are the noisy shouts that spoke
In wild joy on the air?
Where are the lips, in love which spoke—
The echoes answer, Where?
In wild joy on the air?
Where are the lips, in love which spoke—
The echoes answer, Where?
Where are the ready eye and hand
That made our greetings sweet?
Parted long since,—the choice old band,—
Where will they ever meet?
That made our greetings sweet?
Parted long since,—the choice old band,—
Where will they ever meet?
Where are they? Ask the manly face,
White hairs, and furrowed brow;
The veterans, with their antique grace—
The boys are elders now.
White hairs, and furrowed brow;
The veterans, with their antique grace—
The boys are elders now.
Roll back, roll back Life's hastening tide,
Nor count each passing year;
Behold, their bows in strength abide,
The ancient boys are here!
Nor count each passing year;
Behold, their bows in strength abide,
The ancient boys are here!
THE LADY AND THE POET.
I have read of a poet whose minstrelsy woke
The spirit of music in beautiful Spain;
He was urged by a lady, not quite to his taste,
To write her a sonnet,—nor urged she in vain.
The spirit of music in beautiful Spain;
He was urged by a lady, not quite to his taste,
To write her a sonnet,—nor urged she in vain.
In the noble Castilian 't were easy to write,
From a madrigal down to a funeral knell;
So this son of the Muses proceeded to draw
The sonnet she claimed from his murmuring shell.
From a madrigal down to a funeral knell;
So this son of the Muses proceeded to draw
The sonnet she claimed from his murmuring shell.
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She deemed he would glory her beauty to praise,
Her form, and her hair, and form her dark Spanish eyes;
And her fancy was filled with the glow of his lays,
Lighted up like the rainbow with heavenly dyes.
Her form, and her hair, and form her dark Spanish eyes;
And her fancy was filled with the glow of his lays,
Lighted up like the rainbow with heavenly dyes.
But her guess was at fault; not a word of her charms
Was allowed by the minstrel to smile on his page,
Not a breath of true gallantry breathed from his lip,
Not a soft note of grace warbled forth from his cage.
Was allowed by the minstrel to smile on his page,
Not a breath of true gallantry breathed from his lip,
Not a soft note of grace warbled forth from his cage.
But he set for his quill the ingenious task
Of making the sonnet, in measure and time,
As smooth as an eclogue, as bald as a stone,
And as empty of meaning as faultless in rhyme.
Of making the sonnet, in measure and time,
As smooth as an eclogue, as bald as a stone,
And as empty of meaning as faultless in rhyme.
The words were consummate in number and time,
The lines were as faultless as eye ever read;
The sonnet was perfect, excepting alone,—
'T was just what he purposed,—that nothing was said.
The lines were as faultless as eye ever read;
The sonnet was perfect, excepting alone,—
'T was just what he purposed,—that nothing was said.
HOW BLEST THE ART THAT LINKS IN SACRED BONDS.
PRESERVED THOUGHTS.
How blest the art that links in sacred bonds
The living present with the living past!
The life of other years to ours responds,
Pulse-beat to pulse-beat thrills, and first to last.
The living present with the living past!
The life of other years to ours responds,
Pulse-beat to pulse-beat thrills, and first to last.
The thoughts once breathed in prose, or rolled in song,
Treasured in faithful records, sound again;
Genius and love their harmonies prolong,
And vanished souls converse again with men.
Treasured in faithful records, sound again;
Genius and love their harmonies prolong,
And vanished souls converse again with men.
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And books are thoughts; these alcoves fair shall hold,
Like rare and priceless gems, the sacred trust,
When monumental piles and shrine of gold,
Battered and worn, shall crumble into dust.
Like rare and priceless gems, the sacred trust,
When monumental piles and shrine of gold,
Battered and worn, shall crumble into dust.
Whose shall the honor be, O history, say,—
When, passed from earth, the glorious thinkers sleep,—
Their thoughts, like jewels rescued from decay,
In fitting chambers to arrange and keep?
When, passed from earth, the glorious thinkers sleep,—
Their thoughts, like jewels rescued from decay,
In fitting chambers to arrange and keep?
Thank God! such trusts to human hands are given;
Thank God! such trusts shall not be given in vain;
Earth's clustered blooms will show fair fruit in heaven,
Thoughts, saved on earth, will shine in heaven again.
Thank God! such trusts shall not be given in vain;
Earth's clustered blooms will show fair fruit in heaven,
Thoughts, saved on earth, will shine in heaven again.
How blest the task, in this short life of ours,
Life's loving work and influence to extend,
Clothing the mortal with immortal powers,
Making all ages with all ages blend!
Life's loving work and influence to extend,
Clothing the mortal with immortal powers,
Making all ages with all ages blend!
THE GENTLE MUSE OF TO-DAY.
The Muses, in the olden days,—
They numbered barely nine,—
'T was theirs to wake the sweetest lays,
To charm and to refine;
To teach the bliss of life and love,
To make the whole world bright,
Ten thousand rills of joy to start,
To shine, as shines the light.
They numbered barely nine,—
'T was theirs to wake the sweetest lays,
To charm and to refine;
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To make the whole world bright,
Ten thousand rills of joy to start,
To shine, as shines the light.
But we, in later times, have found
A hundred Muses more;
And on each gentle Muse we meet,
Our love and praise we pour;
Each makes earth happier, life more blest,
Brings to our homes a heaven,—
Dear charmers of our secret hearts,
The best gift God has given!
A hundred Muses more;
And on each gentle Muse we meet,
Our love and praise we pour;
Each makes earth happier, life more blest,
Brings to our homes a heaven,—
Dear charmers of our secret hearts,
The best gift God has given!
Ardent, they study to expand
The fields already won;
And in their noble deeds surpass
All that the past has done;
By pinnacles of honor gained,
By summits grandly trod,
They prove what woman can attain,
Inspired and helped of God.
The fields already won;
And in their noble deeds surpass
All that the past has done;
By pinnacles of honor gained,
By summits grandly trod,
They prove what woman can attain,
Inspired and helped of God.
We honor all whose hearts are true,
And gladly, proudly, raise
The noblest trophy art can bring
Their glorious course to praise;
A thousand blessings on them rest,—
Blessings from heart and hand,—
The Muses we delight to own,
They are this fairy band.
And gladly, proudly, raise
The noblest trophy art can bring
Their glorious course to praise;
A thousand blessings on them rest,—
Blessings from heart and hand,—
The Muses we delight to own,
They are this fairy band.
86
ANNIVERSARIES AND DEDICATIONS.
COME TO THE FESTAL DAY.
A HYMN FOR A SCHOOL ANNIVERSARY.
Come to the festal day,
Cheerfully welcomed, come!
Come join our songs; come share the joy
That crowns our school and home!
Cheerfully welcomed, come!
Come join our songs; come share the joy
That crowns our school and home!
Here have our hearts received
Treasures of holy truth,—
God's living words,—the helps of age,
The loving guides of youth.
Treasures of holy truth,—
God's living words,—the helps of age,
The loving guides of youth.
Come, for the rolling year,
With bursting buds and flowers,
Summons the sower to his toils,
And gladdens us in ours!
With bursting buds and flowers,
Summons the sower to his toils,
And gladdens us in ours!
God's blessing cheers each task:
No work for God is vain:
His is alike the beaming sun,
And His the gentle rain.
No work for God is vain:
His is alike the beaming sun,
And His the gentle rain.
Then to our festal day
And cheerful greetings, come!
Come join our songs; come share the joy
That crowns our school and home!
And cheerful greetings, come!
Come join our songs; come share the joy
That crowns our school and home!
87
IN LOVING FAITH THIS STONE WE PLACE.
LAYING THE CORNER-STONE, NORUMBEGA, WELLESLEY COLLEGE.
In loving faith this stone we place;
God is our trust,—in Him we build;
All noble works through Him are wrought,
All life is with His pulse-beat thrilled.
God is our trust,—in Him we build;
All noble works through Him are wrought,
All life is with His pulse-beat thrilled.
O Life of life! O Light of light!
Our breath, our joy, our hope, our aim,—
We plant our corner-stone, we rear
Our home, in honor of Thy name!
Our breath, our joy, our hope, our aim,—
We plant our corner-stone, we rear
Our home, in honor of Thy name!
In love o'er all the work preside
As wall, and tower, and peak ascend;
And be its crown of glory, Thou,—
Earth's noblest hope, life's highest end,
As wall, and tower, and peak ascend;
And be its crown of glory, Thou,—
Earth's noblest hope, life's highest end,
The broad, sweet landscape at our feet,—
Forest and vale, and hill and sea,—
Reveal Thy wondrous skill and power;
All space, all time, are full of Thee.
Forest and vale, and hill and sea,—
Reveal Thy wondrous skill and power;
All space, all time, are full of Thee.
So let the building we prepare,
The house we to Thy honor raise,
Be a new temple built for God,—
Forever vocal with His praise.
The house we to Thy honor raise,
Be a new temple built for God,—
Forever vocal with His praise.
June 22, 1885.
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IN FAITH THIS CORNER-STONE WE LAY.
FOR THE CORNER-STONE LAYING, WORCESTER ACADEMY, 1889.
In faith this corner-stone we lay,—
A tribute to fair Learning's shrine;
God is our wisdom, God our stay,
And His the work our thoughts design.
A tribute to fair Learning's shrine;
God is our wisdom, God our stay,
And His the work our thoughts design.
We build in faith for nobler years,
For generations yet to be;
As every soul its structure rears
And builds for immortality.
For generations yet to be;
As every soul its structure rears
And builds for immortality.
Let children's children here be trained
To love the paths their fathers trod,
To keep the boon their fathers gained,
To love and trust their fathers' God.
To love the paths their fathers trod,
To keep the boon their fathers gained,
To love and trust their fathers' God.
And day by day the walls shall grow,
And arch, and dome, and towers shall rise,
As, slowly, works of love below
Tend to bright mansions in the skies.
And arch, and dome, and towers shall rise,
As, slowly, works of love below
Tend to bright mansions in the skies.
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NOT YET COMPLETE,—THE HALL WE REAR.
AN UNFINISHED MAIN BUILDING.
Not yet complete,—the hall we rear,
O Learning, to thy shrine;
Not yet complete,—our character,
To match the mould divine.
O Learning, to thy shrine;
Not yet complete,—our character,
To match the mould divine.
But wall, and architrave, and dome,—
As stone on stone we raise,—
A finished temple shall become,
Built for Jehovah's praise.
As stone on stone we raise,—
A finished temple shall become,
Built for Jehovah's praise.
And year by year shall many a soul,
Like marble from the mine,
Polished, and set,—a perfect whole,—
In holy beauty shine.
Like marble from the mine,
Polished, and set,—a perfect whole,—
In holy beauty shine.
As arch, and pinnacle, and spire
Point upward to the skies,
O living souls, grandly aspire
To shine in Paradise!
Point upward to the skies,
O living souls, grandly aspire
To shine in Paradise!
90
HYMN FOR THE DEDICATION OF A SCHOOL-HOUSE.
Sow ye beside all waters
The seeds of love and light,
And train your sons and daughters
To wisdom, truth, and right;
Open fresh founts of beauty
Along life's devious road;
Fashion the soul to duty,
And lead it up to God.
The seeds of love and light,
And train your sons and daughters
To wisdom, truth, and right;
Open fresh founts of beauty
Along life's devious road;
Fashion the soul to duty,
And lead it up to God.
Prepare the peaceful bowers
Where opening minds shall wake,
As rosebuds into flowers
In blushing fragrance break;
Water with skilful teaching
The springing germs of thought,
Onward and heavenward reaching,
With coming glory fraught.
Where opening minds shall wake,
As rosebuds into flowers
In blushing fragrance break;
Water with skilful teaching
The springing germs of thought,
Onward and heavenward reaching,
With coming glory fraught.
As priests of God anointed
To keep this high behest,
We take the charge appointed,
To do such bidding blest;
Here shall new gems be fitted
With mild, fair light to shine,
The toil to us committed,
The help, O God, is Thine.
To keep this high behest,
We take the charge appointed,
To do such bidding blest;
Here shall new gems be fitted
With mild, fair light to shine,
The toil to us committed,
The help, O God, is Thine.
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FAIR SEAT OF LEARNING! WHO SHALL TELL.
JUBILEE HYMN FOR MOUNT HOLYOKE SEMINARY, JUNE 23, 1887.
Fair seat of learning! who shall tell
The joy we feel in greeting thee
On this glad day, thy festal day,
Thy blessed day of jubilee!
The joy we feel in greeting thee
On this glad day, thy festal day,
Thy blessed day of jubilee!
O born of faith! O nursed in prayer!
What grateful throngs repeat thy name!
What memories, lingering round the globe,
With fervent blessing crown thy fame!
What grateful throngs repeat thy name!
What memories, lingering round the globe,
With fervent blessing crown thy fame!
O loyal hearts! bring hymns of praise
To Him to whom all praise is due;
With loyal homage pay your vows,
In loyal faith your vows renew.
To Him to whom all praise is due;
With loyal homage pay your vows,
In loyal faith your vows renew.
Glory to Him who planned, who guides,
The years elapsed, the years to be;
For His dear sake, in His great name,
We keep our hallowed Jubilee.
The years elapsed, the years to be;
For His dear sake, in His great name,
We keep our hallowed Jubilee.
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FAIR WORCESTER.
Fair Worcester, enthroned on the hills in thy pride,
With the city-domes gleaming below,
A gem on the robe of a beautiful bride,
Or a crown on a beautiful brow,
Thy children return to thy favorite halls,
With more joy than the hom-flying dove;
Their hearts burn with gladness to answer thy calls,
As they bring thee their tribute of love.
With the city-domes gleaming below,
A gem on the robe of a beautiful bride,
Or a crown on a beautiful brow,
Thy children return to thy favorite halls,
With more joy than the hom-flying dove;
Their hearts burn with gladness to answer thy calls,
As they bring thee their tribute of love.
Dear Muse of our childhood, dear guide of our youth,
To our hearts what fond memories throng;
From thy chalice we drank the rich draughts of truth,
And our souls through thy strength were made strong.
No landscape was ever so fair to be seen;
No such sunsets crowned day's busy hours;
No friends like the friends of our boyhood have been,
And no teachers so gracious as ours.
To our hearts what fond memories throng;
From thy chalice we drank the rich draughts of truth,
And our souls through thy strength were made strong.
No landscape was ever so fair to be seen;
No such sunsets crowned day's busy hours;
No friends like the friends of our boyhood have been,
And no teachers so gracious as ours.
O favored of Heaven, thy sons have engraved
Their bright names on the wreath of thy fame;
To guard thee and guide thee, around thee has waved
God's broad pillar of cloud and of flame.
Still onward and upward pursue thy fair march,
Like an army with banners unfurled;
While God bends above thee His covenant arch,
And before thee lies waiting the world.
Their bright names on the wreath of thy fame;
To guard thee and guide thee, around thee has waved
God's broad pillar of cloud and of flame.
Still onward and upward pursue thy fair march,
Like an army with banners unfurled;
While God bends above thee His covenant arch,
And before thee lies waiting the world.
November 13,1891.
93
FAIR SUFFIELD, THY CHILDREN RETURN TO THY HALLS.
FAIR SUFFIELD.
Fair Suffield, thy children return to thy halls,
As the birdlings fly back to their nest,
Delighted to welcome thy motherly calls,
And to lean as of old on thy breast;
Whatever our lot in the future may be,
And wherever our footsteps may roam,
Our hearts shall still turn with affection to thee,
And shall find in thy bosom a home.
As the birdlings fly back to their nest,
Delighted to welcome thy motherly calls,
And to lean as of old on thy breast;
Whatever our lot in the future may be,
And wherever our footsteps may roam,
Our hearts shall still turn with affection to thee,
And shall find in thy bosom a home.
What lessons of wisdom we learned from thy lips!
What ambitions thy teachings have fired!
The light of those teachings no years can eclipse,
Nor imperil the love they inspired;
Thy light has shone far o'er the darkness of earth,
Like the sunbeams that break from the sky;
Thy prophets and heroes have honored their birth,
And their record stands written on high.
What ambitions thy teachings have fired!
The light of those teachings no years can eclipse,
Nor imperil the love they inspired;
Thy light has shone far o'er the darkness of earth,
Like the sunbeams that break from the sky;
Thy prophets and heroes have honored their birth,
And their record stands written on high.
Oh, long from thy seat on the hills, in thy pride,
Be thy glorious banner unfurled;
There draw every eye like a beautiful bride,
And bring blessing and joy to the world!
The God of our fathers establish thy state,
And His pillar of cloud and of flame
Defend thee and guide thee while thousands shall wait
To be honored and called by thy name!
Be thy glorious banner unfurled;
There draw every eye like a beautiful bride,
And bring blessing and joy to the world!
The God of our fathers establish thy state,
And His pillar of cloud and of flame
Defend thee and guide thee while thousands shall wait
To be honored and called by thy name!
94
RE-UNIONS.
HYMN
FOR THE REUNION OF ALUMNI OF NEWTON THEOLOGICAL INSTITUTION AT SARATOGA SPRINGS, MAY, 1885.
Toilers from many a distant field,
Alike in shade or sun,
Each throbbing heart and beating pulse
Beats as the pulse of one.
Alike in shade or sun,
Each throbbing heart and beating pulse
Beats as the pulse of one.
A thousand memories of the past
Bind us in trust and love;
They make us one,—one band on earth,—
One here, and one above.
Bind us in trust and love;
They make us one,—one band on earth,—
One here, and one above.
One work, one Christly work, inspires
The thoughts of every soul;
One aim, one Christly aim, makes one
The labors of the whole.
The thoughts of every soul;
One aim, one Christly aim, makes one
The labors of the whole.
One hope, one glorious hope, relieves
And cheers our pilgrim way;
We see afar our crown, to grace
Christ's coronation day.
And cheers our pilgrim way;
We see afar our crown, to grace
Christ's coronation day.
And so the men that toiled and loved
In trial, zeal, and pain,
Redeemed, shall find one home, at last,
In Christ be one again.
In trial, zeal, and pain,
Redeemed, shall find one home, at last,
In Christ be one again.
95
HYMN FOR NEWTON THEOLOGICAL INSTITUTION.
Drawn to this blest retreat,
What hosts, in converse sweet,
These paths have trod;
What hosts have loved and prayed,
And on Heaven's altar laid
Their all, amid thy shades,
O mount of God!
What hosts, in converse sweet,
These paths have trod;
What hosts have loved and prayed,
And on Heaven's altar laid
Their all, amid thy shades,
O mount of God!
One bond unites the whole,—
Breathes, moves, one kindred soul,
Our life, the same.
Our hopes, our aims, are one;
Christ is our central sun,
And all our works are done
In His dear name.
Breathes, moves, one kindred soul,
Our life, the same.
Our hopes, our aims, are one;
Christ is our central sun,
And all our works are done
In His dear name.
Our ears the call have heard,
“Go, preach my saving word,”
Here, Lord, are we;
Each in his chosen sphere,
Ready the cross to rear,
Answers, in accents clear,
“Here, Lord, send me.”
“Go, preach my saving word,”
Here, Lord, are we;
Each in his chosen sphere,
Ready the cross to rear,
Answers, in accents clear,
“Here, Lord, send me.”
Behold, the nations wake!
Saviour, Thy sceptre take,
Assume Thy throne;
Armed with the prophet's rod,
Thy servants wait thy nod,
God over all, our God,
Come, reign, alone!
Saviour, Thy sceptre take,
Assume Thy throne;
Armed with the prophet's rod,
Thy servants wait thy nod,
God over all, our God,
Come, reign, alone!
Davenport, Iowa, April 5, 1893.
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A SONG OF “LANG SYNE.”
FOR THE CLASS OF 1829.
When autumn blasts sweep o'er the fields,
And slanting suns decline,
How bright the hour that gathers here
The Class of '29!
And slanting suns decline,
How bright the hour that gathers here
The Class of '29!
How fair the day when round the heart
Old friendships, hallowed, twine;
Blest be the ties that join in love
The Class of '29!
Old friendships, hallowed, twine;
Blest be the ties that join in love
The Class of '29!
Now college days come back afresh,—
Secant, and curve, and sine,
Logic and Latin, that imbued
The Class of '29.
Secant, and curve, and sine,
Logic and Latin, that imbued
The Class of '29.
Homer and Hesiod, Paley, Brown,
Anacreon's love and wine,
And modern lore, that came t' adorn
The Class of '29.
Anacreon's love and wine,
And modern lore, that came t' adorn
The Class of '29.
Around our brows, once bright with youth,
Now age hangs out its sign;
But nobler grows the fame which wreathes
The Class of '29.
Now age hangs out its sign;
But nobler grows the fame which wreathes
The Class of '29.
Then hand to hand, and heart to heart,
Like brothers, still combine,
Till not a name, unstarred, shall mark
The Class of '29.
Like brothers, still combine,
Till not a name, unstarred, shall mark
The Class of '29.
97
NOT YET THE FROST OF AGE.
HARVARD CLASS OF '29.
Not yet the frost of age,
Nor ardent summer's rage,
Nor history's burdened page
Has chilled or scorched the friendships of our youth;
Nor with a “finis” ended,
Life's stories, vaguely blended,
Which years have comprehended,
Are closed and bound and sealed with changeless truth!
Nor ardent summer's rage,
Nor history's burdened page
Has chilled or scorched the friendships of our youth;
Nor with a “finis” ended,
Life's stories, vaguely blended,
Which years have comprehended,
Are closed and bound and sealed with changeless truth!
Like seamen, when they tack,
Our eyes look gravely back
Along the lengthening track,
Far to our sunny morn and booming spring;
When with our sails inflated,
Time's mingled cup untasted,
On the fair verge we waited,
And gazed intent, to see what life would bring.
Our eyes look gravely back
Along the lengthening track,
Far to our sunny morn and booming spring;
When with our sails inflated,
Time's mingled cup untasted,
On the fair verge we waited,
And gazed intent, to see what life would bring.
From old companions parted,
The dear and noble-hearted,
With whom the race we started,—
Like weary steeds, we watch the setting sun;
Climbed are the heights we sought,
Our manhood's deeds are wrought,
Our battles sternly fought,
Favored by God's good grace, and victory won.
The dear and noble-hearted,
With whom the race we started,—
Like weary steeds, we watch the setting sun;
Climbed are the heights we sought,
Our manhood's deeds are wrought,
Our battles sternly fought,
Favored by God's good grace, and victory won.
98
Yet that old fervor burns,
Still the young blood returns,
Just as the summer ferns
Are green and strong till falls the autumn blast;
So to the clouds of even,
Grouped in the glittering heaven,
Ever new glow is given,
And never are they brighter than at last.
Still the young blood returns,
Just as the summer ferns
Are green and strong till falls the autumn blast;
So to the clouds of even,
Grouped in the glittering heaven,
Ever new glow is given,
And never are they brighter than at last.
The dropping sands still fall;
From heaven new voices call;
We claim them each and all,—
The starred that shone, the unstarred names that shine.
Oh, fewer still, and fewer,
But never, never truer,
Just as when life was newer,—
God keep the unstarred names of “twenty-nine!”
From heaven new voices call;
We claim them each and all,—
The starred that shone, the unstarred names that shine.
Oh, fewer still, and fewer,
But never, never truer,
Just as when life was newer,—
God keep the unstarred names of “twenty-nine!”
At Parker's, Boston, January 10, 1884.
99
'MID THE TEMPEST AND THE STRIFE.
HARVARD CLASS OF '29.
'Mid the tempest and the strife,
With stern heart and ready hand,
As when amid the conflict dire
Embattled legions stand,
In a world where bounding joy
Comes alternately with tears,
As night dews follow noontide heat,—
We have finished fifty years.
With stern heart and ready hand,
As when amid the conflict dire
Embattled legions stand,
In a world where bounding joy
Comes alternately with tears,
As night dews follow noontide heat,—
We have finished fifty years.
Oh, blissful were the hours
When, with brilliant hopes and young,
We launched our bark on life's bright sea,
And wooed the siren's tongue,
And the future, calm and fair,
Stood undimmed by rising fears;
Alas, our hearts had yet to learn
The scenes of fifty years!
When, with brilliant hopes and young,
We launched our bark on life's bright sea,
And wooed the siren's tongue,
And the future, calm and fair,
Stood undimmed by rising fears;
Alas, our hearts had yet to learn
The scenes of fifty years!
But with steadfast eye and heart,
Ever up and onward led,
The joy of freedom round us cast,
Its light above our head,
As shouts the pilgrim from the height
The towering mountain rears,—
So on the summit gained, we stand;
We have finished fifty years.
Ever up and onward led,
The joy of freedom round us cast,
Its light above our head,
As shouts the pilgrim from the height
The towering mountain rears,—
So on the summit gained, we stand;
We have finished fifty years.
100
Now back we turn to view
The path our steps have trod,
And, yearning, seek to press again
With loving feet the sod,
And busy memory to our souls
The fragrant past endears;
Yet comes that benison no more,—
We have finished fifty years.
The path our steps have trod,
And, yearning, seek to press again
With loving feet the sod,
And busy memory to our souls
The fragrant past endears;
Yet comes that benison no more,—
We have finished fifty years.
As the gray old ruin stands,
And verdure o'er it creeps,
And clings in every nook and seam,
And in silent beauty sleeps,—
So round our manhood's heart
The bloom of youth appears;
Age nurtures these sweet-trailing flowers,—
We have finished fifty years.
And verdure o'er it creeps,
And clings in every nook and seam,
And in silent beauty sleeps,—
So round our manhood's heart
The bloom of youth appears;
Age nurtures these sweet-trailing flowers,—
We have finished fifty years.
We have finished fifty years;
But our friendship, warm and true,
Unchanging, mocks the lapse of time,
Like heaven's immortal blue.
The radiant arch still smiles;
And while faith the portal nears,
Our love outrides the storms of life,—
The gales of fifty years.
But our friendship, warm and true,
Unchanging, mocks the lapse of time,
Like heaven's immortal blue.
The radiant arch still smiles;
And while faith the portal nears,
Our love outrides the storms of life,—
The gales of fifty years.
So clasp each brother's hand,
With a firm heart and a brave,
Strong to endure each adverse shock,
To breast each beating wave,
And light the crested foam with joy,
Howe'er the tempest veers,
Till storm and conflict, lulled, repose
Beyond these mortal years.
With a firm heart and a brave,
Strong to endure each adverse shock,
To breast each beating wave,
And light the crested foam with joy,
Howe'er the tempest veers,
Till storm and conflict, lulled, repose
Beyond these mortal years.
Founded on the fact that the members of the Class of 1829, with two or three exceptions only, are understood to be just fifty years of age.
101
TRIBUTES.
TO MR. SETH DAVIS, SCHOOL-MASTER.
ON HIS ONE HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY.
Hail, honored master! Hail, thrice-honored friend!
Before thy hundred years, we, reverent, bend;
Distinguished praises for thy well-earned fame
Our lips would speak, our grateful thought would frame.
Distinguished man, whose deeds, so bravely done,
Have charmed and blessed, in turn, both sire and son;
Lone pillar, thou, amid the wastes of years,
The sole survivor of their joys and tears;
Whose like our eyes will ne'er behold again,
Grand and alone,—a monument of men.
Before thy hundred years, we, reverent, bend;
Distinguished praises for thy well-earned fame
Our lips would speak, our grateful thought would frame.
Distinguished man, whose deeds, so bravely done,
Have charmed and blessed, in turn, both sire and son;
Lone pillar, thou, amid the wastes of years,
The sole survivor of their joys and tears;
Whose like our eyes will ne'er behold again,
Grand and alone,—a monument of men.
Distinguished, thou, dear man, above thy peers,
Rich in the circle of thy hundred years,
Whose eye, undimmed, has seen the months decay,
While generations thrice have passed away;
Skilful to teach, kind and discreet to guide,
Keen to discern, and honest to decide,
Acute to plan, and earnest to defend;
If e'er a foe in seeming, still a friend,
Training thy pupils to be good and wise.
Goodness lives ever; wisdom never dies.
Thy teaching made them men, both good and great,
Fitted to hold and grace the chair of state;
Great for the platform, pulpit, field, or mart,
But greatest in the goodness of the heart;
As fruits that ripen 'neath the genial sun,
Beauty and richness yield, combined in one.
Rich in the circle of thy hundred years,
Whose eye, undimmed, has seen the months decay,
While generations thrice have passed away;
Skilful to teach, kind and discreet to guide,
Keen to discern, and honest to decide,
Acute to plan, and earnest to defend;
If e'er a foe in seeming, still a friend,
Training thy pupils to be good and wise.
Goodness lives ever; wisdom never dies.
Thy teaching made them men, both good and great,
Fitted to hold and grace the chair of state;
102
But greatest in the goodness of the heart;
As fruits that ripen 'neath the genial sun,
Beauty and richness yield, combined in one.
Friend of our early youth and riper age,
The citizen, the patriot, and the sage;
Blessed with an eye to see, a hand to do,
A heart to throb, a soul both large and true;
Man of the present, treasury of the past,—
How has thy life been honored to the last!
Of old traditions, thou, a matchless store,
A walking volume of historic lore;
Lover of Nature in its varied moods,
Its brooks and flowers, its fields and leafy woods,
A thousand trees, set by thy loving care,
Attest thy taste and toil, which placed them there.
The citizen, the patriot, and the sage;
Blessed with an eye to see, a hand to do,
A heart to throb, a soul both large and true;
Man of the present, treasury of the past,—
How has thy life been honored to the last!
Of old traditions, thou, a matchless store,
A walking volume of historic lore;
Lover of Nature in its varied moods,
Its brooks and flowers, its fields and leafy woods,
A thousand trees, set by thy loving care,
Attest thy taste and toil, which placed them there.
So on the hill, where forests used to stand,
One tall old tree—the monarch of the band—
Towers upward, all alone, in lofty pride,
While generations, nourished at its side
In gentle summer and in winter drear,
Have grown and fallen with every passing year,—
Each season crowns it with luxuriant leaves,
Each autumn round it some fresh glory weaves,
And twittering birds and sunbeams o'er it play,
While the old monarch suffers no decay.
One tall old tree—the monarch of the band—
Towers upward, all alone, in lofty pride,
While generations, nourished at its side
In gentle summer and in winter drear,
Have grown and fallen with every passing year,—
Each season crowns it with luxuriant leaves,
Each autumn round it some fresh glory weaves,
And twittering birds and sunbeams o'er it play,
While the old monarch suffers no decay.
May thy late years decline, O honored friend,
As setting suns their glowing colors blend,
Peacefully fading towards the darkening west,
Sinking serenely to their destined rest,
Prophetic of a new and brighter day,
When years and centuries shall have passed away!
As setting suns their glowing colors blend,
Peacefully fading towards the darkening west,
Sinking serenely to their destined rest,
Prophetic of a new and brighter day,
When years and centuries shall have passed away!
September 3, 1887.
103
THE DEPARTED TEACHER.
Gone, but not lost! the star of day,
Merged in the morning radiance, dies,
But holds, unseen, its onward way,
And walks in glory through the skies.
Merged in the morning radiance, dies,
But holds, unseen, its onward way,
And walks in glory through the skies.
The brilliant orbs that guard the night,
Like priests around their altar-fires,
Quenched, but not lost, a living light,
Are watching still, though night retires.
Like priests around their altar-fires,
Quenched, but not lost, a living light,
Are watching still, though night retires.
Gone, but not lost! the glowing sun
Sinks, weary, 'neath the darkening west,
But tho' his daily race is run,
New worlds are by his presence blest.
Sinks, weary, 'neath the darkening west,
But tho' his daily race is run,
New worlds are by his presence blest.
Gone, but not lost! the summer's bloom
Lies sleeping 'neath the wintry snow;
But richer fruits spring from the tomb,
From dark decay fair harvest grow.
Lies sleeping 'neath the wintry snow;
But richer fruits spring from the tomb,
From dark decay fair harvest grow.
Gone, but not lost! who lives sublime
Lives beyond life, he cannot die;
Born for all years, for every clime,
His a true immortality.
Lives beyond life, he cannot die;
Born for all years, for every clime,
His a true immortality.
We weep as, one by one, we lay
Our brethren with the garnered host,
While gratefully the ages say,
No saintly life is ever lost.
Our brethren with the garnered host,
While gratefully the ages say,
No saintly life is ever lost.
104
Farewell, the reverend teacher sleeps,
Taken, alas! yet doubly given;
His life undimmed, its pathway keeps—
One course alike in earth and heaven.
Taken, alas! yet doubly given;
His life undimmed, its pathway keeps—
One course alike in earth and heaven.
January, 1875.
REQUIEM.
Another,—yes, another,—
We are passing, one by one,
Like soldiers, fallen in battle,
Be the conflict lost or won.
Another,—yes, another,
Like an evening star, has set;
Behind the western mountains
The light is lingering yet.
We are passing, one by one,
Like soldiers, fallen in battle,
Be the conflict lost or won.
Another,—yes, another,
Like an evening star, has set;
Behind the western mountains
The light is lingering yet.
Another,—yes, another,—
The friends of earlier days,
As melt the mists of morning
Amid the noonday haze,
Life's golden harvests, gathered,
Pass on to other spheres;
Life's early promise kindled
Light round their riper years.
The friends of earlier days,
As melt the mists of morning
Amid the noonday haze,
Life's golden harvests, gathered,
Pass on to other spheres;
Life's early promise kindled
Light round their riper years.
Another,—yes, another,—
As ever on the lake
Wave follows wave, and shoreward
Successive billows break;
Grand in the storm, but fairest
When, all the conflict o'er,
In gentle ripples moving,
They lave the silent shore.
As ever on the lake
Wave follows wave, and shoreward
Successive billows break;
105
When, all the conflict o'er,
In gentle ripples moving,
They lave the silent shore.
Another,—yes, another,
Torn from the golden chain,
Crowned, after life's stern conflict,
Another warrior slain;
With closer ranks, his valor
Shall help us dare and do;
Shorter the chain, but stronger,—
We'll weld the parts anew.
Torn from the golden chain,
Crowned, after life's stern conflict,
Another warrior slain;
With closer ranks, his valor
Shall help us dare and do;
Shorter the chain, but stronger,—
We'll weld the parts anew.
Another,—yes, another,—
We drop like forest leaves,
When the year's crown of glory
The mellow autumn weaves;
But lives of love and duty
Sink to no vain repose;
Sunsets shed lingering radiance,
Fragrance, the dying rose.
We drop like forest leaves,
When the year's crown of glory
The mellow autumn weaves;
But lives of love and duty
Sink to no vain repose;
Sunsets shed lingering radiance,
Fragrance, the dying rose.
Another,—yes, another,—
The calls more frequent grow,
As whitens round our temples
More thick the silver snow;
God of the weak and weary,
Light of our joyful past,
Guide us, support and keep us,
Till falls in death the last!
The calls more frequent grow,
As whitens round our temples
More thick the silver snow;
God of the weak and weary,
Light of our joyful past,
Guide us, support and keep us,
Till falls in death the last!
106
N. P. WILLIS.
Come back to be buried beneath the green willow,
Whose long weeping branches trail over the tomb;
The soil of thy birthplace prepares thee a pillow,—
Where kindled thy morn, for thy eve there is room.
Whose long weeping branches trail over the tomb;
The soil of thy birthplace prepares thee a pillow,—
Where kindled thy morn, for thy eve there is room.
Come back to be buried, where patriarchs holy
In faith breathed thy name at the altar of prayer;
Come back, from thy greatness, to sleep with the lowly,
Where pride sounds no trumpet, and fame is but air.
In faith breathed thy name at the altar of prayer;
Come back, from thy greatness, to sleep with the lowly,
Where pride sounds no trumpet, and fame is but air.
Come back to be buried, where honor first found thee,
And o'er thee her mantle deliciously flung;
Come back with thy robe of renown wrapped around thee,
To rest where thy garlands in youth o'er thee hung.
And o'er thee her mantle deliciously flung;
Come back with thy robe of renown wrapped around thee,
To rest where thy garlands in youth o'er thee hung.
Come back to be buried, as blossomings vernal
Fall back to the soil whence their beauty was born;
As sunset clouds glitter in glory supernal,
Returned from the earth which they moistened at morn.
Fall back to the soil whence their beauty was born;
As sunset clouds glitter in glory supernal,
Returned from the earth which they moistened at morn.
Come back to be buried,—but still shall the crescent
Of fame, early won, the record illume;
As chaplets of love, made sempervirescent,
Are saved from the night and the damps of the tomb.
Of fame, early won, the record illume;
As chaplets of love, made sempervirescent,
Are saved from the night and the damps of the tomb.
107
Come back to be buried,—mowed down by the Reaper,
Whose pitiless scythe spares nor manhood nor bloom;
Come back to be buried, O lone, silent sleeper,
Thy kindred await thee,—come, pilgrim, come home.
Whose pitiless scythe spares nor manhood nor bloom;
Come back to be buried, O lone, silent sleeper,
Thy kindred await thee,—come, pilgrim, come home.
Mr. Willis was born in Portland, passed his early days in Boston, died at Idlewild, N. Y., Jan. 20, 1867, and came back to be buried in Mt. Auburn, Jan. 24.
EDWARD EVERETT.
Mute is his eloquence: that silver tongue
On whose sweet accents crowds, admiring, hung,—
Whose fitting words in heavenly beauty fell
On ear and heart, that owned the witching spell;
Whose graceful cadence tides of feeling woke,
As if on earth some loving angel spoke,—
Now rests in silence, like a harp unstrung.
Its notes, unrivalled, on the breezes flung,
Still breathe in living echoes in the air,
As though the master-spirit lingered there.
Who can do justice to so great a name?
Who speak in worthy words his matchless fame?
In varied learning brilliant and profound;
In taste a model, and in judgment sound;
Above ambition's mean and shuffling arts;
Too great to purchase power at public marts;
In life so pure, in motive so unstained,—
He trod with honor all the heights he gained;
His aims so worthy, and his powers so rare,
If first he stood, the people placed him there.
As stands a shaft on some far-reaching plain,
Rising o'er cottage-roofs and waving grain,
Catching the earliest morning's crimson streams,
And latest splendor of the evening beams,
Towering o'er all, it meets the distant sight,
And bathes its summit in the peerless light,—
So, in his country, in his age, alone,
As in the earlier times great Washington;
When foemen trod the stage with haughty stride,
He for his country spoke with manly pride,
Consoled the timid, made the fainting strong,
Stood for the right, and frowned upon the wrong.
As some brave soldier waves his flag on high,
And points his comrades on, to do or die,
Then plants the banner on the topmost height,
Borne through the fiercest whirlwind of the fight,
Himself forgetting, eager but to see
His nation's struggle crowned by victory,—
So toiled in love, so stood, till evening set,
The ripe, the brave, immortal Everett.
On whose sweet accents crowds, admiring, hung,—
Whose fitting words in heavenly beauty fell
On ear and heart, that owned the witching spell;
Whose graceful cadence tides of feeling woke,
As if on earth some loving angel spoke,—
Now rests in silence, like a harp unstrung.
Its notes, unrivalled, on the breezes flung,
Still breathe in living echoes in the air,
As though the master-spirit lingered there.
Who can do justice to so great a name?
Who speak in worthy words his matchless fame?
In varied learning brilliant and profound;
In taste a model, and in judgment sound;
Above ambition's mean and shuffling arts;
Too great to purchase power at public marts;
In life so pure, in motive so unstained,—
He trod with honor all the heights he gained;
His aims so worthy, and his powers so rare,
If first he stood, the people placed him there.
As stands a shaft on some far-reaching plain,
Rising o'er cottage-roofs and waving grain,
108
And latest splendor of the evening beams,
Towering o'er all, it meets the distant sight,
And bathes its summit in the peerless light,—
So, in his country, in his age, alone,
As in the earlier times great Washington;
When foemen trod the stage with haughty stride,
He for his country spoke with manly pride,
Consoled the timid, made the fainting strong,
Stood for the right, and frowned upon the wrong.
As some brave soldier waves his flag on high,
And points his comrades on, to do or die,
Then plants the banner on the topmost height,
Borne through the fiercest whirlwind of the fight,
Himself forgetting, eager but to see
His nation's struggle crowned by victory,—
So toiled in love, so stood, till evening set,
The ripe, the brave, immortal Everett.
Well at his funeral-pomp did wreaths of green
Adorn the places where his life had been,
And garlands deck, with sweet and cheerful bloom,
The opening gateway to his honored tomb.
The full-blown flowers, of pure and spotless white,
Symbols of finished life, a life upright;
The bursting buds, of fresh and bright renown,
Wreathed o'er his name, like an immortal crown,—
Each fragrant blossom round the good and brave,
Telling how virtue lives beyond the grave.
The martial dirge, with deep and solemn strain,
Fell on the ear as falls the gentle rain,
Breathing o'er troubled hearts a healing balm;
While mingling organ-notes prolonged the psalm,
As if the twofold music had been given,
Symbol of closing earth and opening heaven.
Thus when the good man parts from earth and time.
Soaring from toil and pain to joys sublime,
The flickering light of such a world as this
Melts in the splendor of ecstatic bliss;
The mortal, like the setting sunlight, fades,
While glorious visions rise that know no shades;
And earthly music, as the soul ascends,
Dies on the ear, and with the angelic concert blends.
Adorn the places where his life had been,
And garlands deck, with sweet and cheerful bloom,
The opening gateway to his honored tomb.
The full-blown flowers, of pure and spotless white,
Symbols of finished life, a life upright;
The bursting buds, of fresh and bright renown,
Wreathed o'er his name, like an immortal crown,—
Each fragrant blossom round the good and brave,
Telling how virtue lives beyond the grave.
The martial dirge, with deep and solemn strain,
Fell on the ear as falls the gentle rain,
Breathing o'er troubled hearts a healing balm;
While mingling organ-notes prolonged the psalm,
As if the twofold music had been given,
Symbol of closing earth and opening heaven.
Thus when the good man parts from earth and time.
Soaring from toil and pain to joys sublime,
109
Melts in the splendor of ecstatic bliss;
The mortal, like the setting sunlight, fades,
While glorious visions rise that know no shades;
And earthly music, as the soul ascends,
Dies on the ear, and with the angelic concert blends.
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
IN MEMORIAM.
Dear master of the tuneful lyre,
How shall we breathe the word, “Farewell”?
How shall we touch the trembling wire,
Which vibrates with thy mystic spell?
How shall we breathe the word, “Farewell”?
How shall we touch the trembling wire,
Which vibrates with thy mystic spell?
The world seems poor, of thee bereft;
The evening sky without the sun;
The setting, not the gem, is left;
The frame remains, the picture gone.
The evening sky without the sun;
The setting, not the gem, is left;
The frame remains, the picture gone.
As birds that float on heavenward wing,
Unseen, the air with music fill,—
Singing, they soar, and, soaring, sing,—
Thy broken harp yields music still.
Unseen, the air with music fill,—
Singing, they soar, and, soaring, sing,—
Thy broken harp yields music still.
Life's golden bowl was dashed too soon,
But love still holds thy cherished name;
No sunset thine, but fadeless noon;
No shadow, but immortal fame.
But love still holds thy cherished name;
No sunset thine, but fadeless noon;
No shadow, but immortal fame.
110
So the dear chrysalis we hide,
For God's safe-keeping, in the tomb;
And, in firm faith and hope, we bide
The dawn that breaks the silent gloom.
For God's safe-keeping, in the tomb;
And, in firm faith and hope, we bide
The dawn that breaks the silent gloom.
Wait the fair day, the glorious hour,
The precious form, enshrined in clay,
Instinct with new-created power,
Shall wake, and heaven-ward soar away.
The precious form, enshrined in clay,
Instinct with new-created power,
Shall wake, and heaven-ward soar away.
Newton Centre, October 18, 1894.
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