 | Wood-notes and Church-bells |  |
277
CAMBRIDGE MEMORIES.
All hail, ye dear familiar towers,
Rising before me like a dream,
Dreamt long ago amid the bowers
Which shade that classic stream.
Rising before me like a dream,
Dreamt long ago amid the bowers
Which shade that classic stream.
On trees and battlements I gaze,
Till through a veil of gathering tears
I dimly see the purple haze
Of far-off happy years.
Till through a veil of gathering tears
I dimly see the purple haze
Of far-off happy years.
Under those studious walls I walked
With buoyant step, when life was young,
And Hope beside me gaily talked,
And birds around me sung.
With buoyant step, when life was young,
And Hope beside me gaily talked,
And birds around me sung.
278
The pleasant flutter of the gown
I feel as in the bygone time,
In grassy court, or quiet town,
Or avenue of lime.
I feel as in the bygone time,
In grassy court, or quiet town,
Or avenue of lime.
Once more beneath the dim expanse
Of fretted roof I hear the roll
Of organ, wave on wave, advance
And flood my raptured soul.
Of fretted roof I hear the roll
Of organ, wave on wave, advance
And flood my raptured soul.
Once more I greet the mighty shade
Of Newton toiling in his tower,
Or glorious Milton as he strayed
In youth's fresh morning hour.
Of Newton toiling in his tower,
Or glorious Milton as he strayed
In youth's fresh morning hour.
With cherished friend I thrid the gloom
Of college cloister as of yore;
Or hour by hour in lonely room
O'er learning's page I pore.
Of college cloister as of yore;
Or hour by hour in lonely room
O'er learning's page I pore.
279
With eager crowds beneath the feet
Of saint or sage I take my place,
And gather flowers of wisdom sweet
The after-years to grace.
Of saint or sage I take my place,
And gather flowers of wisdom sweet
The after-years to grace.
Hail, then, ye dear familiar towers,
Sacred to learning and to truth,
Amid whose academic bowers
Dwell England's choicest youth.
Sacred to learning and to truth,
Amid whose academic bowers
Dwell England's choicest youth.
Long may ye flourish as of old,
With sister-towers, a goodly band,
The light of life on high to hold
And pour it o'er the Land!
With sister-towers, a goodly band,
The light of life on high to hold
And pour it o'er the Land!
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