DARTMOUTH LYRICS 
 
 
 OZORA STEARNS DAVIS '89 AND 
 WILLIAM DRUMMOND BAKER'89
 
 LIBRARY
 
 JffO.
 
 DARTMOUTH LYRICS 
 
 A COLLECTION OF POEMS FROM THE 
 UNDERGRADUATE PUBLICA- 
 TIONS OF DARTMOUTH 
 COLLEGE 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 OZORA STEARNS DAVIS, '89 
 
 AND 
 
 WILLIAM DRUMMOND BAKER, '89 
 
 CAMBRIDGE 
 prmttft at tfre lltersi&e 
 1888
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Ad Thaliarchum." J. H. Gtro*ld, '90 83 
 
 Arbutus. O. S. Davis, '89. 76 
 
 As Yesterday, so To-day. W. D. Quint, '87 40 
 
 Atom, An 25 
 
 At the Club. Richard Hovey, '85 74 - 
 
 At the Trysting-Piace. O. S. Davis, '89. 6 
 
 At the Window. H. R. Foster, '82. 92 
 
 August Noon, An. F. L. Pattre, '88 68 
 
 Ballade of Graves, A. D. L. Lawrence, '88 98 
 
 Battle of Tours, The. 17 
 
 Behinde ye Arras. F. J. Urquhart, '87 70 
 
 Beside the Sea. D. L. Laarreace, '38. 22 
 
 Bride of Death, The. F. L. Pattee, "8S 82 
 
 Broken Banjo, The. W . F. Gregory, '88. 72 
 
 Changing Year, The. JK. B. Forbush, '$8 36 
 
 DayDawn. W . B. Forlnuk, *88 90 
 
 Drift. tf.M.Hall,'*& 66 
 
 Drifting 20 
 
 Erato i 
 
 Evening. W. S. Sullivan, '89. 26 
 
 Even-Song. W. D. Baker, ^ 5 
 
 Faint-Heart's Lament. IV. D. Quint, '87 30 
 
 Freshman's Soliloquy, The. O. S. Davis, "89 37 
 
 Garden, The. F. L. Pattee, '83 34 
 
 Guide-Board Speaks, The. N. M. Hall, '88 8 
 
 Harmony. W. B. Forbush. '88 100 
 
 Heart, The. W. F. Gregory, '88 Si
 
 iv CONTENTS. 
 
 He is Our Peace. W. B. Forbvsh, '88 96 
 
 Hermit Thrush, The. F. L. Pattee, '88 75 
 
 Her Promise. W. S. SMivan, '89 73 
 
 Hortense. ^". J. LfryuAart,'8j 32 
 
 In Mud Time 84 
 
 In Roman Days. O. S. Davis, '89 43 
 
 In Sunset's Depths. O. S. Davis, '89 58 
 
 June and November. F. L. Pattee, '88 53 
 
 Kronos. Richard Hovey, '85 So 
 
 Lotus-Eaters, The. H r . D. Baker, '89 77 
 
 Luna. W. S. Sullivan,'?*) 87 
 
 Marlowe. N. M. Hall, '88 48 
 
 Mist Wraith, The. N. M. Hall, '88 63 
 
 Mount Mansfield 46 
 
 My Lady in the Garden. Jf. B. Forbusk, '88. . 93 
 
 On Robert Herrick. W. D. Baker, '89. 39 
 
 On Severn's Portrait of Keats. F. L. Pattee, '88 42 
 
 OntheCoast. N. M. Hall, '88 21 
 
 On the River 19 
 
 On the Statue of Niobe 47 
 
 Rondel. D. L. Lawrence, '88 52 
 
 Rose May 29 
 
 Sea-Song. W. D. Baker, '89 65 
 
 " She 's Fast Asleep." W. B. Forbush, '88 31 
 
 Song. O. S. Davis, '89 67 
 
 Songs without Words. W. D. Baker, '89 61 
 
 Spring 62 
 
 Squab Flights. Richard Hovey, '85 3 
 
 Storm, The. W. D. Baker, '89. 69 
 
 Summer School of Science, The 55 
 
 Tender and True. D. L. Lawrence, '88 97 
 
 Theocritus. A . C Lyford, '85 79 
 
 Thread of Gray, A. F. L. Pattee, '88 59 
 
 Three Sailor Boys 85 
 
 Toa Glove 38 
 
 To Love, Immortal Love. W, B. Forbush, '88 50 
 
 To My Tambourine 49 
 
 To Pollie Conn. F. jf. Urquhart, '87 95
 
 CONTENTS. v 
 
 Trembling Yes, A 91 
 
 Villanelle. D. L . Lawrence, '88 44 
 
 Violiniste. W-'. D. Quint, '87 51 
 
 Vita Nuova. Richard Hovey, '85 78 
 
 Waiting. J. A . Bellows, '70 10 
 
 Watching for the Fleet. N.M.Hall,' 1 ^, 24 
 
 Wedded. Richard Hovey, '85 57 
 
 Winter's Day, A. C. F. Robinson, 'go 27 
 
 Witches, The 15 
 
 " With Fair French Forms." O. S. Davis, '89 89
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ARTMOUTH journalism made a 
 feeble beginning in 1835 with the 
 Magnet. The publication of this 
 sheet, with that of the Scrap-Book, 
 two years later, was continued only for a few 
 numbers. In 1839 the Dartmouth first ap- 
 peared, at that time hi the form of a monthly 
 magazine of an exclusively literary character. 
 The graduation of the class of 1843 saw t^ e 
 cessation of this first series. From this time 
 until 1867 there was no established college 
 paper, though several were begun. In Jan- 
 uary of that year, the second series of the 
 Dartmouth began, and was continued in the 
 monthly form until December, 1874. The 
 Anvil, a weekly paper published during the 
 single college year of 1873-4, was a decided 
 success, and opened up for the college a new 
 field that of the college newspaper. Asa 
 result, in 1874 the Dartmouth began its third
 
 Vlii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 series as a weekly, containing little but news. 
 Finally, in 1879 it was again changed to its 
 present form, a bi-monthly, containing both 
 news and literary matter. In 1886 appeared 
 the Dartmouth Literary Monthly, edited by a 
 board from the senior and junior classes. Its 
 aim, like its name, is that of a purely literary 
 magazine. 
 
 Our college verse, even more than its prose, 
 has felt the influence of the times. In the 
 course of an examination, one detects the in- 
 fluences of Tennyson, Wordsworth, Bryant, 
 Longfellow, and latterly of Swinburne and 
 the host of writers of vers de socidte, repre- 
 sented by Austin Dobson. The older poetry 
 was ambitious in its aim, and as a conse- 
 quence fell farther short of its mark than 
 later more modest and natural work. Few 
 poems in this collection were written more 
 than a dozen years ago. Again, as a result of 
 the artistic and highly finished work done 
 everywhere of late years, college verse has 
 become more carefully written and exact in 
 form. By far the best of our undergraduate 
 poetry is the product of the last four years. 
 
 Every one knows the limitations and fail- 
 ures of college verse, even at its best. But 
 we hope that those into whose hands this 
 volume may fall will find it, while not a per-
 
 INTRODUCTION. ix 
 
 feet collection, yet what the editors have ear- 
 nestly tried to make it, a faithful representa- 
 tive of Dartmouth's best work in poetry. 
 
 While a few of the earlier poems here col- 
 lected cannot, in perfect strictness, be called 
 lyrics, yet the editors have felt that the excep- 
 tions were so few that in giving the volume a 
 title they might be overlooked. 
 
 We desire to take this opportunity to thank 
 Professor M. D. Bisbee, the librarian of the 
 college, for the free use of the files of the 
 college journals, and Professor C. F. Richard- 
 son, for valuable aid in the preparation of this 
 
 volume. 
 
 O. S. DAVIS, 
 W. D. BAKER. 
 
 HANOVER, N. H., November, 1888.
 
 When morning floods the waiting hills with 
 
 light 
 And, step by step, drives down the rebel 
 
 gloom, 
 
 The woods reecho, with a trebled might, 
 The music, ringing through their leafy room. 
 When flowers feel no blight nor lack of 
 
 bloom, 
 When hope has known no loss nor death to 
 
 mar, 
 
 In joy and strength we hail the dawn afar, 
 And, through the growing hours of lifts 
 
 sweet day, 
 We sing our songs of love and mirth 
 
 though far 
 From perfect be our mornings happy lay.
 
 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 i. 
 
 ERATO. 
 
 OVELY Muse of god-born race ! 
 Oft I see thy Grecian face, 
 Oft I gaze in those fond eyes 
 Soft and blue as Lemnian skies. 
 
 But those lips for me are still, 
 Speak to me they never will : 
 Lips I never saw like thine, 
 Red as reddest Lesbian wine. 
 
 In thy rose-wreathed, wavy hair 
 Eros weaves for me a snare, 
 And the music of thy lyre 
 Fills my throbbing heart with fire. 
 
 Ah ! could I thy praise prolong 
 In an endless strain of song,
 
 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 Could my tongue the numbers tell 
 Which my burdened spirit swell, 
 
 Then would I forevermore, 
 On the old .XEgean shore, 
 By the sounding, purple sea, 
 Linger still and sing for thee.
 
 SQUAB FLIGHTS. 
 
 n. 
 
 SQUAB FLIGHTS. 
 
 )VE is eternal," sang I long ago 
 Of some light love that lasted for 
 
 a day; 
 But when the fleeting fancy passed 
 
 away, 
 And other loves, that following made as 
 
 though 
 
 They were the very deathless, lost the glow 
 Youth mimics the divine with, and grew 
 
 gray, 
 
 I said, " It is a dream : no love wfll stay." 
 Angels have taught me wisdom. Now I 
 
 know, 
 Though lesser loves and greater loves may 
 
 cease, 
 Love still endures, knocking at myriad 
 
 gates 
 
 That lead to God stars, winds and waters, 
 birds,
 
 4 
 
 DAR TMOUTH L YRICS. 
 
 Beasts, flowers and men speaking its sweet- 
 est words 
 
 At woman's portal, till it finds its peace 
 In the abyss where Godhead loves and 
 waits. 
 
 Richard Hovey.
 
 EVEN-SONG. 
 
 m. 
 
 EVEN-SONG. 
 
 ITH noiseless tread 
 
 The dewy dusk has gently swung 
 
 The flaming red 
 
 And purple gates ; and high among 
 The stars the harvest moon is hung. 
 
 Dim clouds of white 
 Are chasing shadows past the delL 
 
 With whispers light 
 The little trees above me tell 
 A story that I know so well ; 
 
 For oh, behold ! 
 The clouds have left a radiant ring 
 
 A crown of gold ; 
 
 And there in beauty night doth bring 
 My love. For joy my heart doth sing ! 
 William Drummond Baker.
 
 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 AT THE TRYSTING-PLACE. 
 
 BOVE the hills, the eastern hills, 
 There 's a threat of the rising moon ; 
 
 And the night's fair queen 
 
 With a silver sheen 
 Will gladden the dark land soon. 
 
 Above the hills the white light fills 
 The vast, star-studded dome, 
 
 Then, into sight, 
 
 A disc of light, 
 She swings from her eastern home. 
 
 And through the trees, the evening breeze 
 Sings a welcome to greet the light; 
 
 Furious and long 
 
 Is the rasping song 
 Of the cricket minstrels of night 
 
 Rise higher, O Moon, above the hills ! 
 
 Sigh softly, O evening Breeze ! 
 My throbbing heart with longing thrills 
 
 As I wait beneath the trees.
 
 AT THE TRYSTING-PLACE. \ 
 
 Crickets, chirp low ! 
 
 Her haste is slow ! 
 Now, over the meadow, I see 
 
 A queen in white : 
 
 In the growing night 
 My love has come to me. 
 
 Otora Steams Davis.
 
 8 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 V. 
 
 THE GUIDE-BOARD SPEAKS. 
 
 The guide-board is hanging in the room of a sophomore, 
 surrounded by signs, handkerchiefs, and other souvenirs of 
 his conquests. 
 
 N honored place of old was mine, 
 Beside the highway standing ; 
 Four miles, I said, to Thompson's 
 
 Mills, 
 And six to Bowker's Landing. 
 
 The weary traveller, on the road, 
 To me his thoughts addressing, 
 
 Found out the way to Thompson's Mills, 
 And gave his heartfelt blessing. 
 
 I loved to see the children pass, 
 
 And hear their artless prattle, 
 The lumbering stage-coach and its load, 
 
 With many a jounce and rattle. 
 
 The deacon on his way to church, 
 Looked up with friendly greeting.
 
 THE GUIDE-BOARD SPEAKS. 9 
 
 Two lovers at my mossy foot 
 Once had their place of meeting. 
 
 But now I hang in durance vile, 
 The butt of jests and slander, 
 
 That I who showed the way so long, 
 Should to such nonsense pander ! 
 
 I long to hear the song of birds, 
 And catch the breath of clover. 
 
 Alas ! my hopes are all in vain, 
 My usefulness is over. 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 An honored place of old was tnttte, 
 Beside the highway standing; 
 
 Four miles, I said, to Thompson's Mills, 
 And six to Bowker"s Landing. 
 
 Newton Marshall HalL
 
 IO DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 VL 
 
 WAITING. 
 
 ND sharp as sword's-clash came the 
 
 one word, " Wait ! " 
 Wait ? He had waited years. The 
 
 soft-eyed spring, 
 Crowned with sweet daisies and forget-me- 
 nots, 
 
 The June with roses slumbering in her hair, 
 The blithe October with his grape-stained face, 
 And winter with a winding-sheet of snow, 
 Had passed him by with tiresome, steady pace, 
 Year after year, and found him waiting still. 
 
 O God, 't is hard to wait ! to stand one side 
 And see the noisy crowd go battling on ; 
 To mark that other hands, less strong than his, 
 Grasp the bright crowns that gleam for him in 
 
 vain ; 
 
 To note the love-light shining in some face, 
 A face Madonna-like in its repose, 
 And know that not for him was human love ; 
 To yearn, and long, and pray for yet to wait.
 
 WAITING. II 
 
 Once he had toiled for gold ; had watched the 
 
 pile 
 Of glittering coin grow 'neath his stealthy 
 
 touch, 
 
 Had envied e'en the happy summer fields, 
 The buttercups that sparkled here and there ; 
 Had measured with the yard the rainbow arch, 
 And coined his life out till it seemed spun 
 
 gold. 
 
 And then came loss by flood and field and fire ; 
 The storm-winds beat upon his earthly home, 
 The red flames crackled 'round his shining 
 
 store, 
 With impish laughter clapping their red 
 
 hands ; 
 
 And in and through and over all His voice 
 Saying, " Be still and know that I am God ! 
 This is the end stand back and humbly 
 
 wait!" 
 
 Then he had lived for fame, had sold himself 
 
 To what he called "the people." And the 
 world 
 
 The busy, heartless world that stands one 
 side, 
 
 And claps or frowns as suits its whim the 
 best 
 
 Cheered on, cried " Good ! " and " Brave phi- 
 lanthropist ! " 
 
 " This man has packed the truth into a shell,
 
 12 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 Which look you now he offer us to crack ; 
 We'll give him honors and.a seat of state." 
 Ah ! he had labored nights, and watched the 
 
 hours 
 
 Creep heavy-footed down the halls of time ; 
 Had heard the deep bells on the frosty air 
 Ring out the hours, and then had gone to rest 
 With aching head and eyes too dull for 
 
 sight ; 
 And all for what ? To see the great wave 
 
 turn 
 
 And beat him back upon the barren shore ; 
 To hear men praise another yes, and jeer, 
 And call him fool, whom yesterday the fates 
 Had seemed to beckon on with waving hands, 
 And jewelled hair, and gleams of flashing eyes ; 
 And then that word, as if an angel spoke, 
 Solemn, yet not without its comfort, too, 
 The peace of that word fell upon him 
 
 "Wait!" 
 
 The June was with him. All the summer air 
 Was full of fragrance blown from the sweet- 
 brier, 
 
 And rich with melody that ne'er was wrought 
 By cunningest musicians ; humming bees 
 Rocked in the golden heart of flowers all day ; 
 And when the night climbed up the sunset 
 hills,
 
 WAITING. 13 
 
 Leaving behind her train of silver stars, 
 The ghostly moon shone down through linden- 
 trees, 
 
 And God's great peace found rest within his 
 soul. 
 
 And June and roses and the birds brought 
 
 love. 
 
 Oh, she was fair as lily on its stalk 
 Or sweet white clover which the zephyr bends, 
 With face that soothed you like a low, sweet 
 
 psalm, 
 
 To mark her saint or else some pure Madonna. 
 The June had faded, and the autumn winds 
 Rustled the dead leaves round a new-made 
 
 grave, 
 
 O'er which a marble angel drooped her wings. 
 The old, old story, old as death and time, 
 The one is taken and the other left, 
 While to his heart descends the solemn words, 
 " Thy time shall come, not now, but quickly 
 
 Wait!" 
 
 The slow years dragged along, month after 
 month, 
 
 Week following week ; and each slow-footed 
 day 
 
 Found him the same, yet changed. The coun- 
 try folk 
 
 Told tales of how much good he did the poor,
 
 14 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 How kind he was, how gently soft he spoke, 
 Most often, too, to children, and to those 
 Whom grief had touched ; and oftentimes, 
 
 they said, 
 
 His face was as an angel's, with the light 
 (That never shone on land nor yet on sea) 
 About the eyes ; a certain longing, too, 
 As if he hoped for something that should be 
 If not on earth, yet in eternity. 
 
 They say his death was like a little child's. 
 The snow was hovering in the wintry air, 
 The winds were chanting in the leafless trees 
 A solemn music ; and as the red sun 
 Sank 'neath the hills, he turned away his face, 
 The sweet smile haunting still the kindly 
 
 lips 
 
 And tender eyes, and cried, " At last ! at last 
 The watch is over ! " and then fell asleep. 
 
 John Adams Bellows.
 
 THE WITCHES. 15 
 
 vn. 
 
 THE WITCHES. 
 
 SCENE, a professor's study. Night. Cauldron in the 
 middle. Thunder. Enter three -witches. 
 
 1st W. Thrice a freshman loud has cursed ! 
 2d W. Once hath shrieked the sophomore's 
 
 horn ! 
 3T W. 'T is midnight's hour ! to work, to 
 
 work! 
 1st W. Dance around the cauldron dread. 
 
 Curses on the wretch's head, 
 
 Who incurs our baleful spell; 
 
 Tongue can ne'er its horrors tell ! 
 
 In the grim digamma throw ! 
 
 Therein too ical yap must go ! 
 
 All. Crush the heart and rend the brain, 
 Victims quickly drive insane ! 
 
 -2.d W. Marks of deadly Persian hate, 
 Clisthenes' reforms of state, 
 Force of &v and suffix Bw, 
 Relics of the Hydra's den,
 
 1 6 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 Golden fleece, the Argo's course, 
 And the probable Greek force, 
 Use of fiev and use of Se, 
 Derivation, too, of ye, 
 Meaning of enclitic ice, 
 Pericles' and Solon's fame, 
 Origin of Plato's name, 
 Dative case of pronoun <r6, 
 Credit to Tyrtaeus due : 
 With this mass of horrors grim, 
 Fill the cauldron to the brim ! 
 
 All. Crush the heart and rend the brain, 
 Victims quickly drive insane ! 
 
 zd W. Stir the dreadful compound long, 
 Make our charm thus doubly strong ! 
 
 Enter Professor. 
 
 Prof. Well done ! your deeds my soul de- 
 light ! 
 
 With your decoction to the fight ! 
 Accursed papers fraught with fear, 
 Steeped in the mixture I revere, 
 Would wring from stony eyes the tear !
 
 THE BATTLE OF TOURS. 17 
 
 LX 
 
 VIII. 
 THE BATTLE OF TOURS. 
 
 HEARD the roar of battle down 
 
 the past, 
 And vaguely saw, through mists of 
 
 flying years, 
 Huge forms, strange banners borne along the 
 
 blast 
 'Mid gleaming ranks of spears, 
 
 Squadrons in shining mail, with turbans 
 
 crowned, 
 
 Long streams of yellow hair, and blazing eyes, 
 And crimson pools upon the trembling 
 
 ground, 
 And arrow clouded skies, 
 
 And white arms tossed upon the wailing wind, 
 And breasts, where sons of heroes should 
 
 have lain, 
 
 Go down beneath the horse's hoof to find 
 Rest on a heap of slain.
 
 1 8 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 And through the dim, wide portals of the night, 
 
 Silent and slow the crescent sank, blood- 
 stained; 
 
 And when the northern trumpet hailed the 
 light 
 
 The cross alone remained : 
 
 Its broad'ning shadows stretched across the 
 
 land, 
 
 Westward beyond the arch of unknown seas ; 
 In its blest shade rise states and cities grand, 
 Float priceless argosies, 
 
 Round rusty cannon children laugh and sing, 
 The golden horn of plenty fills and swells, 
 And lovers' happy voices sweetly ring 
 Like distant sounding bells.
 
 ON THE RIVER. 19 
 
 IX. 
 ON THE RIVER. 
 
 RIFTING downward with the river 
 
 Past the willows on the shore, 
 Watching for the moon - beam's 
 
 quiver 
 In the ripple round the oar, 
 
 Dreaming, in the peaceful quiet 
 Of the summer evening's air, 
 
 Tender fancies, running riot, 
 Far from life and light and care ; 
 
 Thus we floated on together, 
 
 Joyous as the stars above ; 
 Talking little of the weather, 
 
 Whispering low our words of love. 
 
 Lip to lip the compact sealing, 
 Homeward now ; the voyage is done. 
 
 But the merry chimes are pealing 
 " She is won !" Yes, she is won.
 
 2O DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 X. 
 
 DRIFTING. 
 
 SEA, thy waves are merciless and 
 wild ; 
 
 Across thy trackless waste no sun- 
 shine gleams, 
 Nor peaceful moon, with white effulgence 
 
 mild, 
 
 Filling the night with glory, till it seems 
 Only the dawn of a diviner day. 
 Thy solitude is one eternal night, 
 Whose blackness is unlit by heaven's ray, 
 And on thy billows we, bereft of sight, 
 The helpless driftwood of the changing years, 
 Rush on, now side by side upon the crest, 
 Now dashed apart amid the spray of tears, 
 Never to meet or from our drifting rest, 
 Till all that floats upon the mighty sea 
 Reaches the haven of eternity !
 
 ON THE COAST. 21 
 
 XL 
 ON THE COAST. 
 
 HE night is dark and the wind blows 
 
 east, 
 The spectral fog creeps in from 
 
 sea, 
 
 The breakers are white as foaming yeast, 
 But sheltered safe and warm are we. 
 
 A gust of wind and a dash of rain, 
 
 The storm has reached the coast at last, 
 
 The gale moans low like a thing in pain, 
 Then shrieks and roars, a raging blast 
 
 The waves sweep over the reeling deck, 
 
 The vessel staggers in the sea, 
 She drifts in the trough a helpless wreck, 
 
 While warm and sheltered safe are we. 
 
 Newton Marshall Hall.
 
 22 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XII. 
 
 BESIDE THE SEA. 
 A Villanelle. 
 
 INGING softly, she sits by her 
 
 wheel, 
 
 Her face ever turned to the shin- 
 ing bay, 
 Long waiting the sound of his grating keel. 
 
 The table is spread for the evening meal ; 
 Thro' the door streams the sleepy, golden 
 
 day : 
 Singing softly, she sits by her wheel. 
 
 " My sailor's love is for woe and weal, 
 
 Tho' my heart groweth sick at his delay, 
 Long waiting the sound of his grating keel." 
 
 " Our Lady of Grace," chimes the Angelus' 
 
 peal 
 " Star of the sea ! light my love on his 
 
 way." 
 Singing softly, she sits by her wheel.
 
 BESIDE THE SEA. 2$ 
 
 The bay gleams cold, like murderous steel, 
 And still by the casement she keepeth her 
 
 stay, 
 Long waiting the sound of his grating keel, 
 
 And ever, as if her heart to heal, 
 
 Bows meekly her saintly head to pray ; 
 
 Singing softly, she sits by her wheel, 
 
 Long waiting the sound of his grating keel. 
 Daniel Luther Lawrence.
 
 24 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 xm. 
 
 WATCHING FOR THE FLEET. 
 
 N Gloucester bluffs where the salt 
 spray flies, 
 
 And the surges beat, 
 With anxious faces and straining 
 
 eyes, 
 
 For the missing fleet, 
 The fisher women their vigils keep. 
 
 They scan each sail on the gray sea's rim, 
 
 And their cheeks grow white 
 As it fades away like a spectre dim 
 
 In the waning light. 
 The wind blows chill and the breakers moan. 
 
 Oh, watch no more by the hungry deep ; 
 
 You will look in vain. 
 In ocean graves they are laid to sleep, 
 
 And the hurricane 
 Above has chanted their requiem. 
 
 Newton Marshall Hall.
 
 AN ATOM. 25 
 
 3OV. 
 AN ATOM. 
 
 N atom is a little thing, 
 As small as small can be ; 
 'T is smaller than a needle's point, 
 'T is smaller than a flea. 
 
 I never saw one in my life ; 
 Yet, when I was in school, 
 I heard it would take two of them 
 To make a molecule. 
 
 Just think of something so minute 
 That on an inch of paper 
 Five thousand million could be placed, 
 Along with aqueous vapor ! 
 
 The shape of them was never known, 
 Nor was the color either ; 
 In fact, that they are all a myth, 
 I am a firm believer.
 
 26 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XV. 
 EVENING. 
 
 O eastward, o'er the green, long shad- 
 ows creep ; 
 The sunlight steals from vales in 
 
 quiet sleep 
 
 To crown with mellow glow and tints, so deep, 
 The distant height. 
 
 The night breeze, rising, hastens on apace ; 
 It fans with cooling breath all Nature's face ; 
 Low vespers float from quiet dells, through 
 space, 
 
 In upward flight. 
 
 Her trailing robes of light Day closer twines ; 
 She sinks in glory o'er the distant pines, 
 And from her warm embrace the world con- 
 signs 
 
 To arms of Night. 
 
 Walter Seager Sullivan.
 
 A WINTERS DAY. 2? 
 
 XVI. 
 
 A WINTER'S DAY. 
 MORNING. 
 
 IS cold and chill; the dull, gray 
 
 sky 
 Seems like an ice-arch o'er a deep 
 
 ravine ; 
 
 Straight up the smoke from that tall chim- 
 ney curls 
 
 Cold earth and colder heaven it lags between ; 
 Beneath its icy fetters, all unseen, 
 The buried streamlet, gently murm'ring, 
 purls. 
 
 NOON. 
 
 A wintry day ! So thick the clouds 
 That Sol scarce shows us which are southern 
 
 skies ; 
 But see ! from yon far mountain-side comes 
 
 down 
 
 A mighty host, that slow and silent flies 
 Across the frozen lake. Before our eyes 
 The low-hung clouds take on a deeper 
 frown.
 
 28 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 Dark falls the night ; in playful mood 
 The snow swift scurries o'er the dreary plain, 
 Sports round the eaves ; while like a were- 
 wolf's cry 
 
 The fierce wind loudly shrieks its weird re- 
 frain ; 
 
 And yet, my love, I count the storm but gain, 
 So bright the cosy hearth when thou art 
 
 nigh. 
 
 Charles Frederic Robinson.
 
 ROSE MAY. 29 
 
 XVII. 
 ROSE MAY. 
 
 I)/ 
 
 HIS is the end of all our love, Rose 
 
 May, 
 This packet of love-letters that were 
 
 penned 
 
 Before I- thought that I should ever say 
 " This is the end." 
 
 A year ago, and merely to defend 
 Your slipper from the wet some rainy day, 
 I would have dared the high gods to offend. 
 
 And now our summer dream has passed away, 
 For you are flirting with some other "friend," 
 While I am singing in this idle lay 
 " This is the end."
 
 30 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 FAINT-HEART'S LAMENT. 
 
 HE would not take a kiss, a miss 
 Whose mouth was sweet with taunt- 
 ing, 
 Whose lashes swept o'er rose-lit 
 
 cheeks 
 Where Cupid's flag was flaunting. 
 
 Ah, me ! the golden time went by. 
 
 Her head, half turned, said plainly 
 That wishes such as mine that night 
 
 Were running riot vainly. 
 
 But now somehow I 'm sure of this, 
 She would not take a kiss amiss. 
 
 Wilder Dwight Quint.
 
 "SHE'S FAST ASLEEP." 31 
 
 XIX. 
 
 "SHE'S FAST ASLEEP." 
 
 HE 'S fast asleep, and silent I 
 Behold her 'mongst the blossoms 
 
 lie. 
 
 She 's careless grown, my lady fair, 
 The gold-brown tresses of her hair 
 Down past her cheeks disordered fly. 
 
 Her parted lips the breath floats by, 
 Her blossom lips which shape a sigh, 
 I would a smile were resting there ! 
 She's fast asleep. 
 
 I bend above her who knows why ? 
 Oh, would that I had power to try 
 
 What many another man would dare ! 
 
 Down in the pillows, pink so rare, 
 Her cheek peeps up shall I be shy ? 
 She 's fast asleep ! 
 
 William Byron For bus A.
 
 32 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XX. 
 
 HORTENSE. 
 Wherinne is showne ye craftinesse of her lover. 
 
 ORTENSE is haughtye, and no 
 
 smile 
 
 She deignes to shedde on me, 
 Although I love her to dispaire, 
 And serve her faythfullye. 
 
 Each mornynge, when ye Sonne first shines, 
 I from my couch doe springe ; 
 And to her Lattice windowe then 
 Dew sprinklede flouerets bringe. 
 
 And when she goeth to ye wode, 
 Downe through ye mossie dell ; 
 And with her lovelie armes doth drawe 
 Ye water from ye well, 
 
 I haste to followe after her, 
 Althoughe she tells me nay. 
 And when I tell my love to her, 
 She not a worde will say.
 
 HORTENSE. 33 
 
 I toke her lytel hande in mine, 
 
 And quoth full softe and lowe ; 
 
 " Deare hearte, I must needes saye farewell, 
 
 I to ye Warres must goe." 
 
 Straightway her face gat deathlie white, 
 " O Cyril dear ! " quoth she, 
 " Nowe prithee doe not goe awaye, 
 Forsoothe, I I love thee." 
 
 Prank John Urquhart.
 
 34 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 THE GARDEN. 
 
 AHLIAS fill a wondrous garden; 
 
 Peonies from the land of palms, 
 Radiant in their musky splendor ; 
 Tulips with their gaudy charms. 
 Ah ! for me spring's daffodillies, 
 Not the summer's tiger lilies ; 
 
 For the gorgeous tiger lilies 
 Are the dark-eyed belles of Spain, 
 
 And the peonies Eastern maidens 
 With their passionate cheeks aflame. 
 
 What care I for tulips slender, 
 
 With their oriental splendor ! 
 
 But within the gorgeous garden, 
 
 In the angle of the wall, 
 Where the dewdrops still were clinging 
 
 In a grassy tangle tall, 
 There I spied a rosebud hiding, 
 In its weedy bower confiding.
 
 THE GARDEN. 35 
 
 Modest bud, still fresh with morning, 
 
 You are like a maid I know : 
 I will pass those gorgeous beauties ; 
 
 They would stain a breast of snow. 
 I will pluck thee ; go, sweet blossom, 
 She shall wear thee on her bosom. 
 
 Fred Lewis Pattte.
 
 36 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XXII. 
 THE CHANGING YEAR. 
 
 j]ED as my sweetheart's lips 
 
 Were the nodding heads of 
 
 clover. 
 
 Deep as my true-love's eyes 
 The blue sky bending over. 
 All out of doors, both birds and men, were 
 
 singing ; 
 
 The year was springing, 
 And so was love. 
 
 The wintry sky is gray 
 
 As the ash of a dying ember ; 
 The snow falls white to-day, 
 
 It is the chill November. 
 The breeze that sweeps the orchard floors is 
 sighing, 
 
 The year is dying, 
 
 But not my love ! 
 
 William Byron Forbush. 
 
 *
 
 THE FRESHMAWS SOLILOQUY. 37 
 
 XXIII. 
 THE FRESHMAN'S SOLILOQUY. 
 
 WONDER who that man can be 
 Now coming near ! He seems to 
 
 me 
 Like one who holds within his hand 
 
 The sun, the moon, the planets, and 
 
 Maintains this little world of ours 
 
 Obedient to his sovereign powers. 
 
 What stately mien and look has he, 
 
 Compared with men of less degree ! 
 
 That must be " Prex," or some great Prof. 
 
 I think I '11 take my hat quite off. 
 
 A Voice. 
 
 Oh, no, young sir, 
 You greatly err ! 
 It is the college carpenter. 
 
 Ozora Stearns Davis.
 
 38 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 xxrv. 
 
 TO A GLOVE. 
 
 SIT here while the moments go, 
 Gazing up at a dingy glove ; 
 And do I sentimental grow, 
 And murmur of some fickle love ? 
 Well, no, not quite. 
 
 'T was white as foam on surging main, 
 But wear and tear made it succumb ; 
 It now has many a crimson stain ; 
 There also straggles from the thumb 
 Some old horse hair. 
 
 It helped me win the " light-weight " prize, 
 It and its mate which hangs close by ; 
 Helped me to close up Thumper's eyes, 
 And get old Bangs " in chancery ; " 
 That boxing glove.
 
 ON ROBERT HERRICK. 39 
 
 XXV. 
 
 ON ROBERT HERRICK. 
 
 F hills and vales and dear melodious 
 
 streams 
 Within whose limpid depths cool 
 
 shadows lie ; 
 How meadow violets reflect the sky, 
 And how sweet mother earth with radiance 
 
 gleams 
 And glows for happiness, such are the 
 
 themes, 
 
 O merry voice, in which thou dost outvie 
 The careless birds, that, soaring far on high 
 On wings of song, pour forth soft summer 
 
 dreams 
 
 In liquid melody. Yet dost thou sing 
 Of love a higher strain. Not with chill art, 
 Like one who from afar examining 
 With calm philosophy, still stands apart 
 And smiles : its agonizing sorrows wring 
 Thy soul ; its rapturous joys consume thy 
 
 heart. 
 
 William Drummond Baker.
 
 4O DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XXVI. 
 AS YESTERDAY, SO TO DAY. 
 
 FAIN would climb, but dare not, 
 
 lest I fall." 
 So wrote a gallant courtier of Queen 
 
 Bess, 
 In days of ruffs, peaked beards, and regal 
 
 dress, 
 
 When Faery Queens were dainty maidens all, 
 Each to her lover's guess. 
 
 He fain would climb ! For what ? We may 
 
 suppose 
 His quick hand wandered to his jeweled 
 
 blade, 
 Eager for Spain's dark blood, in England's 
 
 aid ; 
 Or else he dreamed to stand within the muses' 
 
 close ; 
 Or loved a maid. 
 
 But dare not I Ah ! his courage failed him 
 
 then: 
 
 Yet blame him not o'ermuch. His hilt of 
 gold
 
 AS YESTERDAY, SO TO-DAY. 41 
 
 Might ne'er win cherished fame when all 
 
 was told : 
 
 The wayward muses frowned upon his up- 
 start pen ; 
 The maid was cold. 
 
 And so we live a space, and fain would climb 
 Like that gay cavalier in silken hose. 
 We treasure up a smile or withered rose : 
 
 Then courage fails. What might be ours in 
 heights sublime, 
 
 Alas ! who knows ? 
 
 Wilder Dwight Quint.
 
 42 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XXVII. 
 ON SEVERN'S PORTRAIT OF KEATS. 
 
 ; AD I not known thy face, immortal 
 
 one, 
 And found unnamed this portraiture 
 
 of thee, 
 
 I might have hailed it as a fantasie ; 
 Or yet a thing that some wild brain had won 
 From misty region stranger to the sun ; 
 I might have looked to see it fade or flee 
 At mortal gaze, like folk of Arcady, 
 Or those sad shapes that flit when night is 
 
 done. 
 The nameless pain in those deep eyes of thine, 
 
 As in a dream far-gazing wistfully, 
 Sometimes I almost think that I could tell ; 
 And oft I fain would link that pain with mine, 
 When all the world a pest-house seems to 
 
 be, 
 And my dark fate flings over me her spell. 
 
 Fred Lewis Pattee.
 
 IN ROMAN DA YS. 43 
 
 xx vm. 
 IN ROMAN DAYS. 
 
 " Cato liter as Graecas act ate jam decimal a didiat. n 
 
 QUINTIL. 12, XL 23. 
 
 STRONG old man, whose soft and 
 
 silvered hair 
 
 Is tossing in the mild Italian air, 
 Walks gravely through a marble 
 
 colonnade ; 
 
 Upon his brow his aged hand is laid, 
 And now he stops, and now he starts again, 
 And whispers in despair, " fs, pta, ." 
 
 Composed and stern the Romans were, they 
 
 say, 
 
 But this old Porcian is disturbed to-day. 
 The winged hours in silent glee steal by 
 And leave the baffled sage with * and KOI. 
 That modern days are quite like those antique, 
 We see from Marcus Cato learning Greek. 
 Ozora Stearns Davis.
 
 44 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 VILLANELLE. 
 
 vava\ 8' otre irebs i&v nev fvpois 
 ey 'TirtpBopfUV ayuva OavuaTav 686v. 
 
 Pyth. X. 
 
 , &i>8efi.a Se xp vff v <phey(i f. r. \. 
 Olymf. II. 
 
 OT overland the path, so Fate de- 
 
 crees, 
 That leads to earth's Hyperborean 
 
 rest, 
 Nor over seas. 
 
 Thus sang the bard whose honeyed lips the 
 
 bees 
 
 Had destined eloquent and lordliest ; 
 Not overland the path, so Fate decrees. 
 
 The mystic fruit of the Hesperides 
 
 Men shall not find far down the golden west, 
 
 Nor over seas.
 
 VILLANELLE. 45 
 
 They dream a dream, a broad highway to ease, 
 A path to peace, to soothe their anguished 
 
 breast ; 
 Not overland the path, so Fate decrees. 
 
 But elsewhere seek the wisdom and the peace 
 Of pious souls. Not here 's the heavenly 
 
 quest, 
 Nor over seas. 
 
 And to the isles where-round the ocean breeze 
 Blows breath of golden blooms, isles of the 
 
 blest, 
 
 Not overland the path, so Fate decrees, 
 Nor over seas. 
 
 Daniel Luther Lawrence.
 
 46 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 MOUNT MANSFIELD. 
 
 HOU grim old mountain ! did great 
 
 Jove's stern might 
 O'erthrow and bind thee here, at 
 
 that dread time 
 When he struck down the Titans for their 
 
 crime 
 Against his throne? I know not, but the 
 
 sight 
 
 Of thy huge face, turned ever toward the light, 
 Suggests defiance. Thou art more sublime 
 Than all around thee here, where mountains 
 
 climb 
 
 On top of mountains, rugged height on height ; 
 Thy cheeks are scarred by lightnings, torn and 
 
 seamed 
 
 By earthquakes ; gray and scanty is thy beard 
 Of stunted pines. Thy stern-set lips can vie 
 With Death in grimness. Often have I 
 
 dreamed 
 
 Of thee as our Prometheus, bound and feared, 
 But stronger thou, to suffer and defy.
 
 ON THE STA TUE OF NIOBE. 47 
 
 XXXL 
 
 ON THE STATUE OF NIOBE. 
 
 ITH stone the gods once bound my 
 
 heart, 
 
 And stopped each flowing vein ; 
 Praxiteles with magic art, 
 Has made me live again.
 
 48 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 MARLOWE. 
 
 HE cry of souls that perish in the 
 
 night, 
 The lightnings' blinding glare, the 
 
 pine trees' dirge, 
 The solemn thunder of the breaking surge, 
 The march of armed men, the bloody fight, 
 All these found voice in Marlowe's mighty 
 
 line. 
 
 He could be gentle as a mother too. 
 What pity that the gifted singer threw 
 Such priceless pearls before the senseless 
 
 swine 
 
 Of lust ! His life work only just begun, 
 To die the victim of a drunken brawl ! 
 Who knows what precious thoughts he left 
 
 untold, 
 What deathless fame his genius might have 
 
 won, 
 
 Had he not blighted in his wretched fall 
 The fairest promise of the age of gold. 
 
 Newton Marshall Hall,
 
 TO MY TAMBOURINE. 49 
 
 XXXIII. 
 TO MY TAMBOURINE. 
 
 AMBOURINE, tambourine, 
 Fairest gift of fairest queen, 
 Hanging by thy silken band, 
 Gorgeous from my lady's hand, 
 
 There is music in thy bells 
 
 That no tinkling ever tells. 
 
 Tambourine, tambourine, 
 Speak of her whom thou hast seen. 
 Art has many devotees ; 
 Thou hast only one to please. 
 Flowers everywhere grow free, 
 But thy roses bloom for me. 
 
 Tambourine, tambourine, 
 Thou dost love her too, I ween. 
 Thou hast felt her gentle touch 
 Who on earth, beside, has such ? 
 Thou wilt sympathize with me, 
 Parted from her, here to be.
 
 50 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 TO LOVE, IMMORTAL LOVE. 
 
 O Love, immortal Love, my soul doth 
 
 cry ! 
 Treading this lower plain of woes 
 
 and cares, 
 
 Vexed with entanglements of men's affairs, 
 I search the encroaching mists with eager 
 
 eye; 
 
 And beaten down, yet long for wings to fly. 
 I yearn with bitter tears and trustful 
 
 prayers 
 To reach that land where play the heavenly 
 
 airs, 
 
 And the fair vales of holy comfort lie. 
 Ah ! Love is perfect, and he does it wrong 
 Who faultily and ignorantly sings, 
 Calling on lips profane the holy fire ; 
 And so I pray the discords of my song 
 May all be soothed by Him who tunes the 
 
 strings 
 To the sweet diapason of God's choir. 
 
 William Byron Forlush.
 
 VIOLINISTE. 5 1 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 VIOLINISTE. 
 
 JINDER your rounded chin 
 
 The polished wood of your violin 
 Comes lengthening down to your 
 
 slender hand, 
 Where a bit of ribbon (a silken band) 
 Flutters and floats. 'T were better planned 
 To be under your rounded chin. 
 
 Now from your snowy throat 
 Swells on the air a soft, sweet note ; 
 And, caught in a perfect chord by the strings, 
 Its cadence rises and falls and swings, 
 And I listen enrapt as the melody rings 
 Up from your snowy throat. 
 
 Deftly your fingers go 
 
 O'er the quivering strings, now high, now 
 
 low, 
 
 And words that speak from the music start, 
 And for me thrill the world in its every part, 
 
 Until I feel that over my heart 
 
 Deftly your fingers go. 
 
 Wilder Dwigkt Quint.
 
 52 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 RONDEL. 
 
 ITH bleeding feet and drooping head 
 Fair Love unto my wicket came ; 
 And faint he called upon my 
 
 name 
 Ah ! how resist him as he plead ? 
 
 With wine of love sweet Love I fed, 
 
 With honey of song, and who would 
 blame ? 
 
 With bleeding feet and drooping head 
 Fair Love unto my wicket came. 
 
 Too well ah me ! I know the bread 
 
 I give him is my broken frame ; 
 
 That my life feeds his altar-flame ; 
 And yet, and yet, when all is said, 
 With bleeding feet and drooping head 
 
 Fair Love unto my wicket came. 
 
 Daniel Luther Lawrence.
 
 JUNE AND NOVEMBER. 53 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 JUNE AND NOVEMBER. 
 Triolets. 
 
 H ! summer days steal by like happy 
 
 dreams, 
 And summer hours are minutes, 
 
 love, with thee ; 
 When ripples softly murmur on the streams, 
 Oh ! summer days steal by like happy dreams. 
 Half faint with sweetness now the meadow 
 
 seems, 
 
 And joyous voices chant in every tree ; 
 Oh ! summer days steal by like happy dreams, 
 And summer hours are minutes, love, with 
 thee. 
 
 I 'm weary, love ! I would I were with thee ; 
 I 'm all alone, while blow the night winds 
 
 dreary ; 
 
 Lonely and sad the creeping hours flee ; 
 I 'm weary, love ! I would I were with thee. 
 The withered leaves flit o'er the barren lea ;
 
 54 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 In sad November naught is gay and cheery. 
 I 'm weary, love ! I would I were with thee ; 
 I 'm all alone, while blow the night winds 
 dreary. 
 
 Fred Lewis Pattee.
 
 SUMMER SCHOOL OF SCIENCE. 55 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 THE SUMMER SCHOOL OF SCIENCE. 
 
 HERE lived a would-be physicist, 
 With bright blue eyes and curly hair ; 
 To laws of dress and etiquette 
 He gave uninterrupted care. 
 At length to learn of Gramme's machine, 
 Of gravity and such as that, 
 Of waves of light, and microphones, 
 He forth did go to study at 
 
 The Summer School of Science. 
 
 There lived a would-be chemistress, 
 Who firmly settled in her mind 
 That there were certain hidden things 
 Which she must really try to find ; 
 Some molecules, some carbonates, 
 The true atomic weight of tin, 
 Precipitated atmosphere 
 Of these she came to study hi 
 
 The Summer School of Science.
 
 56 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 For physicist and chemistress 
 
 The summer season now is o'er. 
 
 Of their respective specialties 
 
 They know just what they knew before. 
 
 But how two bodies tend to meet, 
 
 And how two spirits coalesce, 
 
 And how two hearts can beat as one 
 
 All this they learned, and so they bless 
 
 The Summer School of Science.
 
 WEDDED. 57 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 WEDDED. 
 
 IRDS are singing in the closes, 
 
 Singing for joy of June. 
 Scent of English violets 
 Mingles with the mignonette's ; 
 And the garden 's red with roses, 
 
 When the glad brown thrushes croon, 
 Thrushes crooning in the closes 
 All this rose-sweet June. 
 
 Rarer joy than yours has found me, 
 
 Birds of the rose-sweet June ! 
 Maidenhood with Maytime ended ; 
 Love, the strong one, o'er me bended, 
 And with orange blossoms crowned me 
 
 In the hot, sweet summer noon. 
 Rarer joy than yours has found me, 
 
 Love's year has its June. 
 
 Richard Hovey.
 
 58 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XL. 
 IN SUNSET'S DEPTHS. 
 
 N sunset's depths, whose flushes 
 
 come and go 
 Across the silent wastes of driven 
 
 snow, 
 
 Which tint blue heaven with splendors mani- 
 fold, 
 And change grim mountain peaks to heaps of 
 
 gold, 
 
 There lies the alchemy man cannot know, 
 Although each eve its working he behold 
 In sunset's depths. 
 
 In sunset's depths, in which we almost see 
 Our fairy castles reared in childish glee, 
 There lies for me a stronger, better art, 
 One able, in my weakness, to impart 
 Deep sense of strength and hope, inspiring, 
 
 free. 
 
 Thus lies the source of peace to my sad heart 
 In sunset's depths. 
 
 Ozora Stearns Davis.
 
 A THREAD OF GRAY. 59 
 
 ZLL 
 
 A THREAD OF GRAY. 
 
 S there a time from thoughts of sad- 
 ness free ? 
 An autumn cricket pipes his dirge 
 
 in May, 
 And ere the springtime fades, on some lone 
 
 tree 
 Are yellow leaves to whisper of decay. 
 
 This morn I found a single thread of gray 
 
 In golden locks once bright as autumn's 
 moon. 
 
 Has springtime fled, and has the bright hey- 
 day 
 
 Of morn and gladness faded into noon ? 
 
 Oh ! what were life, should love and joy be 
 
 cold? 
 
 But what is love when happy youth is dead ? 
 So I am gray, so I am growing old, 
 And happy youth forevermore is fled.
 
 6o 
 
 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 There is no time from thoughts of sadness 
 
 free ; 
 
 We hail our joys and they at once are dead ; 
 The gentians bloom ere springtime violets 
 
 flee, 
 And vespers come ere matin psalms are read. 
 
 Fred Lewis Pattee.
 
 SONGS WITHOUT WORDS. 6 1 
 
 XLII. 
 SONGS WITHOUT WORDS. 
 
 HEN one in silence long has brood- 
 ing lain, 
 
 A rush of melody on quivering wings 
 Sweeps over him; and then he 
 
 fiercely sings 
 His heart's own song of rapture or of pain. 
 
 But when the dream is past, and in the glare 
 Of open day with calmer brain he reads, 
 What seemed like nature's whispered secret 
 
 needs 
 Interpreters ; for naught but words is there. 
 
 Beyond dull words look thoughts ; and thought- 
 fulness 
 
 Has never seen those hills whose shining 
 height 
 
 Magnificent is glowing in the light 
 
 Of paradise. This words cannot express. 
 
 William Drummond Baker.
 
 62 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XLIII. 
 SPRING. 
 
 HEN a tender dreaminess fills the 
 
 air, 
 
 And the woodchuck leaves his win- 
 try lair ; 
 
 When the slimy mud is everywhere, 
 And the base ball nine begins to swear, 
 Because the campus is not yet bare ; 
 When the night resounds with the tin horn's 
 
 blare, 
 
 And the student lays aside all care, 
 And every one feels like having a " tear," 
 Then it 's spring.
 
 THE MIST-WRAITH. 63 
 
 XUV. 
 THE MIST-WRAITH. 
 
 ROM the river's silent depths, 
 When the daylight fades away, 
 Rises up a ghostly form, 
 Wrapped in trailing robes of gray. 
 
 'Tis the Mist-wraith, pale and sad ; 
 O'er the landscape wide she creeps. 
 With her finger on her lips 
 At her silent task she keeps. 
 
 Fireflies light her on her way ; 
 Wood and field and village street 
 Thick she covers with her pall. 
 Passing on with noiseless feet, 
 
 Into chambers soft she glides, 
 As the midnight comes apace. 
 Restlessly the sleeper turns, 
 When she breathes upon his face.
 
 64 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 Gone is she at break of day, 
 But her footsteps you may trace 
 By her garments left behind, 
 Soft and light as finest lace. 
 
 Newton Marshall Hall.
 
 SEA-SONG. 65 
 
 XLV. 
 
 SEA-SONG. 
 
 P and away ! For the east wind is 
 
 blowing, 
 And high on the rocks dashes 
 
 swift-driven spray ; 
 Far in the distance the tempest is growing, 
 As we watch the approach of lowering day. 
 
 Up and away ! At home they are waking 
 And hurrying down in the face of the gale, 
 While the glare from the east dims eyes that 
 
 are aching 
 In search for a glimpse of an incoming sail. 
 
 Up and away ! Though storm clouds are kiss- 
 ing 
 
 The measureless waste of fierce-flying foam, 
 For the blasts that over our vessel are hissing 
 Are going before us to welcome us home. 
 
 William Drummond Baker.
 
 66 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 DRIFT. 
 
 HAT came in with the tide to-day ? 
 Bits of wood and seaweed gay, 
 Shells and moss and a broken oar, 
 Floating waifs from a foreign 
 
 shore, 
 
 Something else by the breakers rolled, 
 Something stark and white and cold, 
 Face upturned to the light of day. 
 Sullenly roars the sea with its prey. 
 
 Newton Marshall Hall.
 
 SONG. 67 
 
 XLVII. 
 SONG. 
 
 HERE 'S a flush on the high western 
 
 mountains, 
 
 And the forests in rapture awake ; 
 There 's a flashing of light in the 
 
 fountains, 
 And a promise o'er valley and lake. 
 
 And the lover, who gloomily wanders 
 Through the morning's first beautiful flush, 
 In his hoping soul greedily ponders 
 O'er a promise, a song, and a blush. 
 
 Ozora Stearns Davis.
 
 68 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 XLVHI. 
 AN AUGUST NOON. 
 
 j|HE swooning meadows lie like sum- 
 mer seas ; 
 The landscape reels ; a quivering, 
 
 ghastly gleam 
 Bedims the fields ; as in a spell they 
 
 seem, 
 Save where the redtop rolls with scarce a 
 
 breeze. 
 
 The mowers in the clover to their knees 
 Seem threading out the mazes of a dream. 
 No sound, save far away the locust's 
 
 scream, 
 Or dreamily a bird-voice in the trees. 
 
 The cricket's monotone amid the grass 
 Is scarcely heard, a soothing lullaby, 
 And steady drones the summer-sounding 
 bee. 
 
 The mingled notes to sleepy murmurs pass, 
 Without a sound floats o'er a butterfly, 
 And drowsiness and dreams steal o'er me. 
 
 Fred Lewis Pattee.
 
 THE STORM. 69 
 
 THE STORM. 
 
 JHE wind has blown in icy gusts all 
 
 day, 
 And through this valley, once the 
 
 dwelling-place 
 Of sunny spring, now sweeps with furious 
 
 pace. 
 
 The sun shines dim behind a bank of gray, 
 The trees and hills and very heavens sway 
 With sickening rockings. As I turn my 
 
 face, 
 
 The eastern hills are gone. The wind- 
 swept space 
 
 Below them only bending elms betray. 
 Hark ! through the ceaseless roar the heavy 
 
 boom, 
 Half smothered, of the sunset gun. The 
 
 form 
 
 Of objects long familiar in the gloom 
 Is changed. Without, within, deep shad- 
 ows swarm; 
 
 And as day sinks in blackness, in my room 
 I listen shuddering to the whirling storm. 
 
 William Drummond Baker.
 
 7O DAR TMO UTH L YRICS. 
 
 L. 
 
 BEHINDE YE ARRAS. 
 
 3AUNTLETED hands have thrust 
 
 ye backe, 
 Have roughlie made thy foldes to 
 
 quake, 
 
 And thy quainte figures, golde and blacke, 
 Have caused to bow and swaye and shake, 
 Fantastic Arras. 
 
 A white-jowled knave with poniarde brighte, 
 With stealthie treade once soughte thee oute, 
 And lurked behinde thee in ye nighte, 
 Whilst ghostlie shadowes flocked aboute, 
 O grislie Arras ! 
 
 Once, soe ye ancient legende goes, 
 In ye gode dayes of bluffe olde Hal, 
 A noble knighte hard-pressed bye foes, 
 Founde in thee safetie from them all, 
 O cunninge Arras ! 
 
 This morn, when no one else was nighe, 
 Before ye men-at-armes awoke,
 
 BEHIND E YE ARRAS. "]\ 
 
 My Ladye, from her lattice highe, 
 Dropped downe a littel perfumed note, 
 O silente Arras ! 
 
 And when ye birdes have gat to sleepe, 
 My Ladye Anne will meete me here, 
 When first ye moonbeames 'gin to peepe. 
 And now I waite her cominge, deare, 
 O lovelie Arras ! 
 
 Prank John Urqukart,
 
 72 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 LI. 
 
 THE BROKEN BANJO. 
 
 OICELESS lies the broken banjo, 
 
 Breathes its tuneful soul no more, 
 Gone are all the days it sang of, 
 Gone are all the boys who swore, 
 
 When the banjo, loudly thrummed on, 
 Roused them from their night's repose, 
 
 That the wretch who thus annoyed them 
 Should be numbered 'mong their foes. 
 
 O thou past-recalling banjo ! 
 
 Would I might see, even now, 
 Other night-disturbing banjos 
 
 Past recalling, e'en as thou. 
 
 Warren Penno Gregory.
 
 HER PROMISE. 73 
 
 LH. 
 
 HER PROMISE. 
 
 QUIT the dusty way, 
 Where the elms uniting sway 
 
 Just above ; 
 
 In deeper shadow there 
 Stands the form, so dainty fair, 
 Of my love. 
 
 To me the laughing face, 
 
 With the most bewitching grace, 
 
 Lightly trips. 
 I look, pause, reassure, 
 Ere I lift a face so pure 
 
 To my lips. 
 
 She says, with smile divine, 
 On her birthday she '11 be mine 
 
 Evermore. 
 
 She presses close to tell 
 Me her age, it is ah, well ! 
 
 Only four. 
 
 Walter Stager Sullivan.
 
 74 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 LIII. 
 AT THE CLUB. 
 
 Rondel. 
 
 HEN a pretty maiden passes 
 By the window down the street, 
 Cards and billiards lose their 
 
 sweet ; 
 
 Conversation on old brasses 
 Languishes ; up go the glasses : 
 
 " Nice complexion ! " " Dainty feet ! " 
 When a pretty maiden passes 
 By the window down the street. 
 
 Smith forgets the " toiling masses," 
 
 Robinson the fall in wheat ; 
 
 All the club is indiscreet. 
 Ah ! the wisest men are asses 
 When a pretty maiden passes. 
 
 Richard Hovey.
 
 THE HERMIT THRUSH. 75 
 
 LIV. 
 
 THE HERMIT THRUSH. 
 
 Rondel. 
 
 AR, far away in evening's hush, 
 We caught a plaintive, liquid lay, 
 
 The lonely love-lorn hermit thrush 
 That sang the vesper hymn of day. 
 
 The fragrant air was drunk with May, 
 While from the marsh's tangled brush, 
 Far, far away in evening's hush, 
 
 We caught a plaintive, liquid lay. 
 
 The mist stole from the meadows lush, 
 The day's glad chorus died away, 
 
 Save, half unheard, the river's rush, 
 And where, like murmurs from its spray, 
 
 Far, far away in evening's hush, 
 We caught a plaintive, liquid lay. 
 
 Fred Lewis Pattee.
 
 76 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 LV. 
 
 ARBUTUS. 
 
 N mossy bank, in wet, pine-shaded 
 
 nook, 
 Where yet remain some patches of 
 
 the snow 
 From which the rills with rippling music 
 
 flow, 
 And swell each day some muddy, roaring 
 
 brook, 
 
 Surging around its every bend and crook, 
 Are found the buds that fairies hide below 
 Dark, dying leaves, a careful covering, so 
 Each seeking eye the spot may overlook. 
 From something of the sunset in the fall, 
 And some of winter's white when nature 
 
 slept, 
 The elves had formed the flowers, and, at the 
 
 call 
 Of spring's returning robins, those who 
 
 kept 
 
 The chaliced prison loosed the chains, and all 
 This new-born beauty man can now accept. 
 
 Ozora Stearns Davis.
 
 THE LOTUS-EATERS. 77 
 
 LVI. 
 THE LOTUS-EATERS. 
 
 HIS is a land of dreams. The hills 
 
 are gray 
 With haze, and silent streams glide 
 
 on with slow 
 And placid current. Ocean's ebb and flow 
 Sounds dead and passionless from far away. 
 The star-lit nights are voiceless, till the day 
 Shoots quickly from the sea. Dreamy and 
 
 low 
 Is nature's speech. Such is our world, and 
 
 so 
 We live in peace, nor work, nor love, nor pray. 
 
 When first we came, we loved this dreamy 
 land, 
 
 And love it now ; yet sometimes, as to-day, 
 A breeze brings us across the rippling deep 
 
 A chill of keen remembrance. Up we stand, 
 While glazed eyes grow fearful, and we say, 
 
 " O God ! torture us not, but let us sleep." 
 
 William Drummond Baker.
 
 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 Lvn. 
 
 VITA NUOVA. 
 (Sonnetta doppa.) 
 
 ANTE ! when first I read the history, 
 Enwrit herein by thee, 
 Of all that infinite love that thou 
 
 didst have 
 
 For Bice from the day when thou didst see 
 First her sweet symmetry 
 And thy child heart was taken for her slave, 
 I was as one who sails across a sea, 
 Elate of spirit and free 
 As the glad gulls that laugh along the wave, 
 And hears the sirens singing fitfully 
 A mystic melody, 
 Luring him to a melancholy grave. 
 With sweetest music, tender Florentine ! 
 Thou didst allure me through this little 
 
 grove, 
 
 And in the midst thereof 
 Showed me a place where cypress-trees did 
 
 twine 
 
 Their sombre ombrage ; yet I saw above 
 An opening in the trees where-through did 
 
 shine 
 
 A ray of light divine, 
 Quivering with pulses of eternal love. 
 
 Richard Havey.
 
 THEOCRI 79 
 
 Lvm. 
 
 THEOCRITUS. 
 
 cS those Swiss-dwellers in a northern 
 
 clime, 
 
 A-weary of the winter and its snow, 
 Joyful, when cold and frost begin 
 
 to go, 
 
 Hail the glad coming of the summer time ; 
 Long, o'er then- mountain steeps, again to 
 
 climb 
 
 To hunt the eagle and the timid doe, 
 To pluck wild flowers that in deep valleys 
 
 grow, 
 And drive their flocks home at the vesper's 
 
 chime : 
 
 So oft, when tired of other Grecian song, 
 I hail thee gladly, and with thee alone 
 By some Sicilian stream I wander long 
 And hear the shepherds, in soft undertone, 
 Piping sweet ditties to a sylvan throng, 
 And feel the breath of southern breezes moan. 
 Amos Cogswell Lyford.
 
 8O DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 KRONOS. 
 
 S one of those huge monsters of the 
 
 sky, 
 
 Fierce with the flame of fiery float- 
 ing hair, 
 
 Falls from the zenith through the upper air, 
 Hurling the planets from their paths on high, 
 Jarring creation from its harmony, 
 Spreading on earth destruction and despair, 
 Terrifying men to the temples and vain prayer; 
 So from the summit of his majesty 
 He falls, and heaven is shaken as flame; 
 
 Zeus reigns 
 
 Usurping ; and no matter what is left 
 How smooth or tangled grows his god-life's 
 
 weft 
 
 With how swift footing or how slow the years 
 Speed on, for him forever there remains 
 A thunder and a chaos in the spheres. 
 
 Richard Hovey.
 
 THE HEART. 8 1 
 
 LX. 
 
 THE HEART. 
 (From the German of Neumann?) 
 
 |WO chambers has the heart, 
 And Joy and Pain apart 
 Dwell there. 
 
 In one Pain slumbers now : 
 Bid Joy awake with brow 
 So fair. 
 
 O Joy ! speak light and low ; 
 Let Pain no waking know : 
 Have care. 
 
 Warren Fenno Gregory.
 
 82 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 "THE BRIDE OF DEATH." 
 
 S in a festering marsh, 'mid foul de- 
 cay, 
 A lily grows and sweetens all the 
 
 air; 
 
 Or as some little primrose frail and fair 
 Springs from the blood shed on a battle day ; 
 The house of CEdipus sent one sweet spray 
 From out its slime and blackness and de- 
 spair, 
 
 Antigone, whose maiden soul could bear 
 The one fair bloom to drive its gloom away. 
 
 She dared to shed a sister's pitying tear, 
 And leave her youth and love's bewitching 
 
 breath * 
 
 To do God's will ; man's law she did not fear ; 
 She chose the right, to be the "bride of 
 
 Death." 
 
 Antigone, thy noble life still speaks, 
 The purest and the fairest of the Greeks. 
 
 Fred Lewis Pattee.
 
 "AD THALIARCHUM." 83 
 
 Lxn. 
 
 "AD THALIARCHUM." 
 (In Imitation of Horace^ 
 
 ]OW white Soracte yonder gleams 
 'Mid snows 'neatb which the trees 
 
 are bending ! 
 The frost-king halts the rushing 
 
 streams ; 
 
 Heap high the hearth, these chill bonds rend- 
 ing. 
 
 Bring forth the wine : for gods, the tending 
 Of winds that war the deep, one deems. 
 How white Soracte yonder gleams 
 
 'Mid snows 'neath which the trees are bend- 
 ing! 
 
 Let not the morrow haunt your dreams, 
 Nor spurn sweet loves : thee, boy, the spending 
 
 Of eve in whispered tryst beseems, 
 The girl's glad laugh the love-pledge lending. 
 
 How white Soracte yonder gleams 
 'Mid snows 'neath which the trees are bend- 
 ing ! 
 
 John Hiram Gerottld.
 
 84 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 LXIII. 
 IN MUD TIME. 
 
 HE "summer has kissed the winter 
 Across the face of spring ; 
 And Sol stood near and held the 
 
 light, 
 
 And Tellus awoke and saw the sight, 
 And sprang from his mattress, bolt upright, 
 And tore his coverlet all to strings, 
 And quoted a number of hackneyed things, 
 Rebuking the maiden's wanton freak, 
 While rivers of tears flowed down his cheek, 
 And all he did in the following week 
 Of any account, was to grumble and cry. 
 But Luna, esteemed demure and shy, 
 Leaned back her shoulders against the sky, 
 And snapped her fingers, and coughed, and 
 
 said : 
 
 " I 'm laughing at Tellus, but really I 'm glad 
 That summer has once in kindness dared 
 To kiss old winter in spite of his beard."
 
 THREE SAILOR BOYS. 85 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 THREE SAILOR BOYS. 
 
 HREE fair-haired youths sailed out 
 
 to sea, 
 
 John and James and little Willyum ; 
 And they were sick as sick could be, 
 John and James and little Willyum. 
 Said James : " This is bad." 
 Said John : "This is sad." 
 But little Willyum, he said : " Gol dum." 
 
 These fair-haired youths were led to smile, 
 
 John and James and little Willyum ; 
 For they hoped that liquor might calm their 
 
 bile, 
 John and James and little Willyum. 
 
 Said John : " Currant wine." 
 Said James : " Cider 's mine." 
 But little Willyum, he said : " Drink rum." 
 
 These fair-haired youths got safe to shore, 
 
 John and James and little Willyum ; 
 And they swore an oath that they 'd sail no 
 more,
 
 86 
 
 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 John and James and little Willyum. 
 John went to his bed, 
 James went to be fed, 
 But little Willyum, he went on a bum.
 
 LUNA. 87 
 
 LXV. 
 
 LUNA. 
 
 (After Shelley) 
 
 ijHEN young stars sang and the blue 
 
 vault rang 
 
 In the centuries dim, 
 To hail the birth of my sister Earth 
 With celestial hymn, 
 I leaped with delight from my parent bright, 
 
 I launched me far away, 
 And sped apace into airy space 
 In maddening, joyous play. 
 
 I pined in tears a million years 
 
 For flaming Mercury bold. 
 The strong, fierce fire of my great desire 
 
 First languished, grew faint, then cold. 
 I, sorrowing, bowed my head so proud 
 
 Upon my sister's breast, 
 And hid my woe in a mellow glow 
 
 As our parent sank to rest 
 
 A garland fair from the mists of air 
 I weave as a festal crown,
 
 88 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 As high in the skies I seem to rise 
 
 On pillows of softest down. 
 I lead the stars in their airy cars 
 
 With angel charioteers, 
 Through vast expanse in a mazy dance 
 
 To the music of the spheres. 
 
 I peep o'er the brim of ocean's rim, 
 
 With round and ruddy face ; 
 To my distant bath, a shining path 
 
 With paving of gold I trace. 
 I mirror my beams in the silver streams, 
 
 On ripple of lake and sea. 
 The sweetest notes from mortal throats 
 
 Are poured out in rapture to me. 
 
 I pale on high in the cloudless sky 
 
 When Aurora's car grows bright. 
 From heights serene, with silver sheen, 
 
 I smile on the world at night. 
 I scorn in mirth all things of earth, 
 
 From mortal greed I 'm free. 
 I hear but the beat of angels' feet, 
 
 I shall live for eternity. 
 
 Walter Seager Sullivan.
 
 "WITH FAIR FRENCH FORMS." 89 
 
 LXVI. 
 "WITH FAIR FRENCH FORMS." 
 
 ITH fair French forms, in early days 
 By laughing poets lightly sung, 
 The sunny air with sweetness rung 
 Responsive to their mistress' praise. 
 
 And now the willing reader stays, 
 And sweetest strains he finds among 
 
 The books of ancient, curious lays 
 By laughing poets lightly sung. 
 
 The modern poets paraphrase 
 
 Old forms, awakened fresh and young, 
 
 And, not bewildered in the maze, 
 They play a harp as firmly strung 
 
 With fair French forms, in early days 
 By laughing poets lightly sung. 
 
 Ozora Stearns Davis.
 
 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 LXVII. 
 DAY DAWN. 
 
 ER cheek's rose pink shall be 
 The bud of dawn to me, 
 The glory of her eyes 
 Shall be my fair sunrise. 
 
 William Byron Forbush.
 
 A TREMBLING YES. 91 
 
 LXVIII. 
 A TREMBLING YES. 
 
 TREMBLING yes ! How all my 
 
 pulses leap, 
 With joy and hope, awakened from 
 
 their sleep, 
 At that one word ! My life begins to-day, 
 For all those long, dark shadows clear away 
 Which fell across my path in darkness deep. 
 
 My own forever ! Ah ! swift blushes sweep 
 Across thy face, like rose-tints up the steep 
 Auroral sky. A kiss for lips which say 
 A trembling yes ! 
 
 The lagging days of waiting seem to creep 
 Like years, e'er I with thee can laugh and 
 
 weep, 
 
 And weary oft, in memory's fields I stray, 
 To seek for flowers which bloom beside the 
 
 way; 
 But finding many, only pluck and keep 
 
 A trembling yes !
 
 92 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 LXIX. 
 AT THE WINDOW. 
 
 you were sitting and singing, 
 As the evening chimes were ring- 
 ing, 
 
 At the window there; 
 And the quaint old-fashioned shading 
 Of the window curtains fading 
 Made a picture rare. 
 
 Long I stood and looked and listened 
 While the dying sunbeams glistened 
 
 In your golden hair ; 
 Till the shades of night up-creeping 
 Took you into their own keeping 
 
 I stood watching there. 
 
 Often since in vain I Ve waited 
 Thinking that you were belated, 
 
 Watching for my fair ; 
 But the quaint old-fashioned shading 
 Of the window curtains fading 
 
 Only mocked me there. 
 
 Henry Richard Foster.
 
 MY LADY IN THE GARDEN. 93 
 
 LXX. 
 MY LADY IN THE GARDEN. 
 
 UT through the blossoms she 's wan- 
 dering slowly, 
 
 Down in her pathway the apple- 
 blooms fall, 
 With scent of the lilacs the air is made holy 
 For her who is blossom and queen of them 
 all. 
 
 Cover your heads and hide in the grasses, 
 
 Lilies that nod so stately and tall. 
 She gathers you up in her hands as she 
 
 passes, 
 
 They are whiter than you ; she is queen of 
 you all. 
 
 i 
 Kneel ye, pink roses ; she 's found out the 
 
 treasure 
 Of all your sweet incense down here by the 
 
 wall ; 
 
 Close to her cheek, if that be her pleasure, 
 It is pinker than you ; she is queen of you 
 all.
 
 94 DAR TMO UTH L YRICS. 
 
 We, like the birds in the maple-trees o'er her, 
 
 Follow her footsteps, we come at her call. 
 Only with that which is pure we'll adore 
 
 her, 
 
 She, the white blossom, the queen of us all. 
 William Byron Forbush.
 
 TO POLLIE CONNE. 95 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 TO POLLIE CONN B . 
 
 ESHREWE me, thoughe I 'me 
 
 forced to Woo 
 Miss Poll, I love Her notte ; 
 
 For all She talkes of ys Wage due, 
 Rente, Profit & all thatte. 
 
 I write to Her ? Credit me, Noe ! 
 Toe saye Soe were a Fibbe, 
 The onlie Wrytinge yt I doe 
 Is inne ye lytel Cribbe. 
 
 Frank John Urquhart.
 
 96 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 LXXII. 
 HE IS OUR PEACE. 
 
 HEAVENLY Father, fold me close 
 
 to Thee. 
 
 I look up in Thy peaceful eyes to- 
 night 
 With naught in mine but an unreasoning 
 
 fright, 
 
 And nestle like a bird that would be free. 
 Then, tired even of this, all wearily 
 
 I shade my face from the too-dazzling light 
 Upon Thy breast, and long if I but might 
 Forever in this haven cradled be. 
 Oh, what is there in the hot streets of life 
 Whereon I wander that can give me peace, 
 Or where can I lie down, assured of rest ? 
 Without I hear but noise and din of strife, 
 The howl and wail and cries that never 
 
 cease ; 
 
 Within, the stillness of Thy holy breast. 
 William Byron Forbush,
 
 " TENDER AND TRUE." 97 
 
 LXXIII. 
 "TENDER AND TRUE." 
 
 A Rondeau. 
 
 ENDER and true." So read that 
 
 Douglas' shield 
 Who bore the heart of Bruce from 
 
 the alien field 
 Back to his realm, the land of cold and 
 
 dearth, 
 Fairest to him within the wide world's 
 
 girth, 
 
 Whose woes it was his glory to have healed. 
 Prouder this act of Douglas than to wield 
 A realm, nobler upon his arms annealed 
 This fair device than all the boasts of earth, 
 " Tender and true." 
 
 God grant that on my heart it may be sealed, 
 
 And in His grace grant my life, too, may yield 
 
 This surest stamp and print of gentle birth, 
 
 This crown and flower of all knightly 
 
 ^f worth, 
 
 This sum of Christian virtue here revealed 
 " Tender and true." 
 
 Daniel Luther Lawrence.
 
 98 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 A BALLADE OF GRAVES. 
 
 TANGLED wild rose climbs each 
 
 mound, 
 And white and red the clovers 
 
 pave 
 
 The grass-grown avenues. No sound 
 In this enchanted city, save 
 The murmuring of winds that wave 
 The unshorn locks of grass, the hum 
 
 Of honey-bees holding conclave, 
 At last the roll of the evening drum. 
 
 A march on which all men are bound 
 
 Is life, and all alike must brave 
 Its heat and burden, whether crowned 
 
 With diadem or fool's cap, slave 
 
 Or king. Let only cowards crave 
 Some painless sweet viaticum 
 
 Against the toil He willed, who gave 
 At last the roll of the evening drum. 
 
 Sweet is their slumber, and profound, 
 Who here have laid aside the glave,
 
 A BALLADE OF GRAVES. 99 
 
 And pitched their lowly tents, where round 
 Them only now the wild winds rave, 
 And only rains from heaven lave 
 
 Their restful couch. This is the sum 
 Of joy to hear, when near the grave, 
 
 At last the roll of the evening drum. 
 
 Envoy. 
 Ye peaceful dead, with this engrave 
 
 Our hearts, too oft to such truth numb, 
 For all men comes, or noble or knave, 
 At last the roll of the evening drum. 
 
 Daniel Luther Lawrence.
 
 100 DARTMOUTH LYRICS. 
 
 LXXV. 
 HARMONY. 
 
 SET my trembling heart at tune 
 
 with Thine 
 To play upon its silent, throbbing 
 
 strings : 
 
 The sweetest anthems that my spirit sings 
 Are those the fullest of the breath divine. 
 Let but my feebler harp below combine 
 
 With Thine, which hymns the purest, ho- 
 liest things, 
 My soul with strains of heavenly music 
 
 rings, 
 
 Because Thy song is feebly sung in mine. 
 And though, while chanting at my very best, 
 Compared with those serene immortal notes 
 My weaker tone harsh and discordant be, 
 And only crudely, humanly expressed, 
 Like the lark's song, I know it upward floats 
 To heaven, because inspired alone by Thee. 
 William Byron Forbush.
 
 When even comes, a deep and holy calm 
 Falls softly over forest, hill, and stream j 
 The weary earth sends up its softened psalm 
 Of praise for rest, and like a varied dream 
 The dying day^s quick joy and tumult seem. 
 When deeper shadows mark the closing day, 
 And ere the final ring of curfew, may 
 These songs bring back a sense of morning's 
 
 light, 
 
 Of friends and scenes forever passed away, 
 And soften shades that swiftly close in night.
 
 27218