, r f 
 
 (j t Jf~ Y //?^s^rL<j
 
 SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 f i\ I 
 
 CLASS OF 
 
 Igfctaen futndrd and 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 for \\t nst of t^e Class onlg. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PRKNTISS & DELANO, BOOK AND JOB PRINTEBS, 
 
 Ko. 40, Congress Street. 
 1868.
 
 THE CLASS 
 
 GRADUATED AT HABVAED COLLEGE, 1829. 
 
 With their residences in 1868. 
 
 (See Triennial Catalogue.) 
 
 * JOSEPH ANGIER Milton. 
 
 *ELBRWGE GERRY AUSTIN 
 
 *REUBEN BATES 
 
 \GEORGE TYLER BIGELOW Boston. 
 
 WILLIAM BRIGHAM Boston. 
 
 *JOHN PARKER BULLARD 
 
 WILLIAM HENRY CHANNING London, Eng. 
 
 JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE . Jamaica Plain. 
 
 EDWIN CONANT Worcester. 
 
 *FREDERICK WILLIAM CROCKER 
 
 FRANCIS BOARDMAN CROWNINSHIELD . . . Boston. 
 
 EDWARD LINZEE CUNNINGHAM Newport, R.I. 
 
 * BENJAMIN ROBBINS CURTIS Boston. 
 
 CURTIS CUTLER Cambridge. 
 
 GEORGE THOMAS DAVIS Portland, Me. 
 
 JONATHAN THOMAS DAVIS Concord. 
 
 * NATHANIEL FOSTER DERBY 
 
 SAMUEL ADAMS DEVENS Charlestown. 
 
 * NICHOLAS DEVEREUX 
 
 * GEORGE HUMPHREY DEVEREUX Salem. 
 
 CHARLES FAY St. Albans, Vt. 
 
 * WILLIAM EMERSON FOSTER 
 
 FRANCIS AUGUSTUS FOXCROFT North Cambridge. 
 
 JOEL GILES New York. 
 
 WILLIAM GRAY Boston. <
 
 CHARLES LOWELL HAXCOCK Chicago, IU. 
 
 OLlt'SR WEXDELL HOLMES Botton. 
 
 JOHX HUBBARD 
 
 8OLOMOX MARTI X JEXKIXS 
 
 ALBERT LOCKS 
 
 JOSIAU QUIXCY LORIXG 
 
 SAMUEL MAT Leiceiter. 
 
 HEXRY BLAKE McLELLAX 
 
 HORA TIO COOK ME HI AM Xortk Tewktbury. 
 
 "EDWARD PATRICK MILLIKEX CharUtlon.S.C. 
 
 ISAAC EDWARD MORSE 
 
 BE.VJAMI.V PEIRCE Cambridge. 
 
 OEORGE WILLIAM PHILLIPS Botton. 
 
 GEORGE VTASHtXGTOX RICllARDSOS .... Worcettor. 
 AXDREW RITCHIE 
 
 CffAXDLER ROBBIXS Botton. 
 
 JAMES DUTTOX RUSSELL 
 
 HOWARD SARGEXT Boston. 
 
 SAMUEL FRAXCIS SMITH Nevto* Centre. 
 
 EDWARD DEXTER SOHIER Botton. 
 
 CHARLES STORER STORROW /;,-/... 
 
 JOH.V JAMES TA TLOR Owego, \ ) 
 
 GEORGE AUGUSTUS TAYLOR 
 
 ^ FRAXCIS THOMAS Scltuaie. 
 
 JAMES THURSTOX Wett Xewton. 
 
 JOHX ROGERS THURSTOX 
 
 SAMUEL RIP LEY TOWXSEXD Taunton. 
 
 JOSIAH KEXDALL WAITB LowtU. 
 
 JOSHUA UOLYOKE WARD 
 
 EZRA WTESTOX 
 
 JAMES HUMPHREY WILDER Botton. 
 
 BEXJAMIX POLLARD WIXSLOW Wett floxbury. 
 
 WILLIAM YOUXG .
 
 Also, in full membership : 
 
 JAMES SULLIVAN AMORY Boston. 
 
 GEORGE GARDNER Boston. 
 
 WILLIAM MIXTER Hard wick. 
 
 MOSES P ARSON'S STtCKXEY Boston. 
 
 THE FOLLOWING were members of the Class, for a part of the course: 
 
 WILLIAM PERKINS APTHORP Quinoy. 
 
 *DEXTER BEMIS Spencer. 
 
 *PARK BENJAMIN Demerara, S. A. 
 
 * ANDREW BIGELOW Worcester. 
 
 *JOHN BARNARD BENIGNO DAVENPORT . . . Natchitoches, La. 
 
 * WILLIAM HENRY" ELLIS Boston. 
 
 GEORGE SMITH FRENCH Boston. 
 
 * ELLIS GRAY HALL Boston. 
 
 MARSHALL SPRING HAGAR Waltham. 
 
 * THOMAS JOHNSON HELLEN Washington, D. C. 
 
 * DANIEL CLEAVES KING Danvers. 
 
 * WASHINGTON LAZARUS Wilmington, N.C. 
 
 *JOHN SAMUEL PRESCOTT Reading. 
 
 * WILLIAM OLIVER PRESCOTT Groton. 
 
 * BENJAMIN MORGAN SAUL New Orleans, La. 
 
 * JAMES EDWARD SHEAFE Portsmouth, N. ff. 
 
 * WILLIAM WATSON STURGIS Boston. 
 
 *THEODORE OXEN3RIDGE THACHER .... Boston. 
 
 * WILLIAM WOLCOTT WADSWOHTH Geneseo, N. Y. 
 
 vJOHN WARREN . Boston.
 
 Cliu-$ag Offirrn, |nlg I'l, 1829. 
 
 GEORGE II. DEVEREUX .......... Orator. 
 
 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES ........ Pott. 
 
 JAMES FRKEMAN CLARKE ......... Writer qf Song. 
 
 JAMES THURSTON ............. Chaplain. 
 
 WILLIAM II. CHANNING > 
 
 > .......... Murthalt. 
 
 JAMES D. RUSSELL ) 
 
 v ~ n . u i xi. .\ I Prttident <if 
 
 EZRA \\ ES N .............. j aatt 
 
 DENJAMIX R. CURTIS ^ 
 
 ISAAC E. MORSE > .......... Ylce-PreMent. 
 
 GEORGE W. PHILLIPS ' 
 
 EDWARD D. SOIIIER . . Toait Matter. 
 
 Clas* Dfficrr*, 
 
 AS ORIHIXAI.LY CBO8EX. 
 
 EDWARD L. CUNNINGHAM, ^ 
 
 WILLIAM GRAY, 
 
 Standing 
 
 ALBERT LOCKE, > ., 
 
 Committ'f. 
 
 HENRY B. McLELLAN, 
 GEORGE W. PHILLIPS, 
 
 SAMUEL MAY Secretary.
 
 PRESENT OFFICERS. 
 
 Committee of tbc Class. 
 
 GEORGE T. BIGELOW. 
 BENJAMIN R. CURTIS. 
 WILLIAM GRAY. 
 GEORGE WM. PHILLIPS. 
 GEORGE W. RICHARDSON. 
 
 Class Srtrttanj. 
 SAMUEL MAY. 
 
 trustees of Class J;unfr. 
 
 GEORGE T. BIGELOW. 
 FRANCIS B. CHOWNINSHIELD. 
 WILLIAM GRAY. 
 GEORGE W. RICHARDSON.
 
 " cfJuittf tat eit; nnimum nan carmiiui jacto."
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 
 
 A SONG- OF "TWENTY-NINE." 
 
 Written for the Annual Meeting, 1851. 
 
 The summer dawn is breaking 
 On Auburn's tangled bowers, 
 The golden light is waking 
 On Harvard's ancient towers ; 
 The sun is in the sky 
 That must see us do or die, 
 Ere it shine on the line 
 Of the CLASS OF '29. 
 
 At last the day is ended, 
 
 The tutor screws no more, 
 By doubt and fear attended 
 Each hovers round the door, 
 Till the good old Prseses cries, 
 While the tears stand in his eyes, 
 "You have passed, and are classed 
 With the BOYS OF '29." 
 
 Not long are they in making 
 The college halls their own, 
 
 Instead of standing shaking, 
 Too bashful to be known;
 
 10 SONGS AND POEMS OP 
 
 But they kick the Seniors' shins 
 Ere the second week begins 
 When they stray in the way 
 Of the BOYS OF '29. 
 
 If a jolly set is trolling 
 
 The last Der Freischutz airs, 
 Or a "cannon bullet" rolling 
 Gomes bouncing down the stairs, 
 The tutors looking out, 
 Sigh, "Alas! there is no doubt, 
 T is the noise of the Boys 
 Of the CLASS OP 10? 
 
 Four happy years together, 
 
 By storm and sunshine tried, 
 In changing wind and weather, 
 They rough it side by side. 
 
 Till they hear their Mother cry, 
 "You are fledged, and you must fly," 
 And the bell tolls the knell 
 Of the days of '29. 
 
 Since then in peace or trouble, 
 Full many a year has rolled, 
 And life has counted double 
 The days that then \\e told; 
 Yet we HI end as we've begun, 
 For though scattered, we are one, 
 While each year sees us here, 
 Round the board of
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 11 
 
 Though fate may throw between us 
 
 The mountains or the sea ; 
 No time shall ever wean us, 
 No distance set us free; 
 But around the yearly board, 
 When the flaming pledge is poured, 
 It shall claim every name 
 On the roll of '29. 
 
 To yonder peaceful ocean 
 
 That glows with sunset fires, 
 Shall reach the warm emotion 
 This welcome day inspires, 
 Beyond the ridges cold 
 Where a brother toils for gold, 
 Till it shine through the mine 
 Round the BOY OF '29. 
 
 If one whom fate has broken 
 Shall lift a moistened eye, 
 We'll say, before he's spoken 
 " Old Classmate, don't you cry ! 
 Here, take the purse I hold, 
 There's a tear upon the gold 
 It was mine it is thine 
 A'n't we BOYS OP '29?" 
 
 As nearer still and nearer 
 
 The fatal stars appear, 
 The living shall be dearer 
 
 With each encircling year,
 
 12 BONOS AND POEMS OF 
 
 Till a few old iwn shall gay 
 " Wo remember 't is the day 
 Let it pass with a glass 
 For the CLASS OF '29." 
 
 As one by one is falling 
 
 Beneath the leaves or snows, 
 Each memory still recalling 
 The broken ring shall close, 
 Till the nightwinds softly pass 
 O'er the green and growing grass, 
 Where it waves on the graves 
 Of the BOYS OP '29 ! 
 
 JAVCAKY 2, 1851. O. W. II. 
 
 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. 
 
 For the CUM. ISO. 
 
 Where, O where are the visions of morning, 
 Fresh as the dews of our prime! 
 
 Gone, like tenants that quit without warning. 
 Down the back entry of time. 
 
 When-, O where are life's lilies and mas, 
 Nursed in the golden dawn's sinil" .' 
 
 Dead a* the bulrushes round liti! 
 On the old banks of tin- Nile.
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 13 
 
 "Where are the Marys, and Anns, and Elizas, 
 
 Loving and lovely of yore? 
 Look in the columns of old Advertisers, 
 
 Married and dead by the score. 
 
 Where the gray colts and the ten-year-old fillies, 
 
 Saturday's triumph and joy? 
 Gone, like our friend TioSu; axv; Achilles, 
 
 Homer's ferocious old boy. 
 
 Die-away dreams of ecstatic emotion, 
 Hopes like young eagles at play, 
 
 Vows of unheard of and endless devotion, 
 How ye have faded away ! 
 
 Yet, though the ebbing of Time's mighty river 
 Leave our young blossoms to die, 
 
 Let him roll smooth in his current forever, 
 Till the last pebble is dry. 
 
 o. w. H.
 
 14 80N08 AND POEMS OF 
 
 LINES 
 
 WriMMi for UM CU MMttaff. Xor.mbr S, UBS. 
 
 I have promised to give them some verses to-<lay. 
 
 Shall I go without song! Or, myself, stay awayt 
 
 Old friendships invite me most strongly to go 
 
 The unfulfilled promise exhorts to say No. 
 
 The song I would choose I have no time to spin it; 
 
 A work for such ears is not done in a minute. 
 
 You gave me a year, but I left till this week 
 
 The words of affection and love I would speak ; 
 
 The year was so long I delayed and delayed it, 
 
 Putting off the song when I should rather have made it, 
 
 Because, like the clergy at large, I've a way 
 
 Of leaving, till wanted, the task of each day. 
 
 Necessity's impulse must urge me along, 
 
 But when 'tis most needed 'tis sometimes too strong. 
 
 Have you written the song? of course you must know 
 
 I cannot say "Yes" I'm ashamed to say "No." 
 
 I have brought you my presence 't was all I could do, 
 
 Tin- heart of a student, still faithful and true 
 
 To the friends of my youth, to our nourishing mother, 
 
 To each fellow student the heart of a brother. 
 
 But I wonder you deem the Muse ever roams 
 
 For poem and ode we must go to our ll<i(l)m. - : 
 
 Still, give me carte llmclic in respect to tin- day, 
 
 And, la foi tFun fr&re, I promise to pay. 
 
 8. F. s.
 
 ( ( THE CLASS OF '29. 15 
 
 A SONG OF 'LANG SYNE.' 
 
 Written for the Annual Meeting, 1853. 
 
 When autumn blasts sweep o'er the fields, 
 
 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. 
 
 Now College-days come back afresh 
 
 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. 
 
 Around our brows, once bright with youth, 
 Now age hangs out its sign; 
 
 But nobler grows the fame which wreathes 
 The Class of '29.
 
 16 SONUS AND POEMS OF 
 
 Then hand to huiul, and heart to heart, 
 
 Like Unit hers, still combine, 
 Till not a name, unstarred, shall mark 
 
 The Class of '29. 
 
 S. F. S. 
 
 AN IMPROMPTU NOT I'lJKMKlHTATEI). 
 
 Written for the CU Mrvtiaf. Xovvnbrr , USS. 
 
 The clock has stnick noon ; ere it thrice call the hours, 
 We shall meet round the table that blushes with flowers, 
 And I shall blush deeper, with shame-driven blood, 
 That I came to the banquet, and brought not a bud. 
 
 Who cares that my verse is a beggar in art, 
 If you sec through her rags the full throb of her heart ? 
 Who axks if his comrade is bettered and tanned, 
 When he clasps the warm soul in the grasp of his hundf 
 
 No! be it an epic, or be it a line, 
 
 The l>oys will all love it because it is mine; 
 
 I sung their lat song on the nmrn of the day 
 
 That tore from their lives the last blossom of May. . 
 
 It is not the sunset that glows in the wine, 
 But the smile that beams over it. makes it divine; 
 I sprinkle these drops, and belmld as they fall 
 The daystar of memory shines in them all!
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. 17 
 
 And this is the last; they are drops that I stole 
 From a wine-press that crushes the life from the soul ; 
 But they ran through my heart and they sprang to my brain, 
 Till our twentieth sweet summer was shining again ! 
 
 o. w. H. 
 
 NOS, ET ALMA MATER NOSTRA. 
 
 Written for the Twenty -fifth Anniversary of the Class, and sung at our 'Silver Wedding,' at 
 Prof. Peirce's, Cambridge, Commencement Day, 1854. 
 
 " Welcome ! " cries our Alma Mater, 
 
 " Welcome every son of mine ! " 
 But, to-day, with special favor 
 
 Greets she us of 'Twenty-nine.' 
 Since she sent us, with her blessing, 
 
 Forth, to reap as here we'd sown, 
 Five and twenty suns have circled, 
 
 Bearing us their ' silver crown.' 
 
 Now, in manhood's strength returning, 
 
 Grateful at her feet we bend; 
 Day by day have we been learning 
 
 Her to own a truthful friend. 
 Classmates ! pledge we then the Mother, 
 
 Us who nurtured years Hang syne,' 
 Bound us each to each a brother, 
 
 Heart and hand, in 'Twenty-nine.' 
 
 2*
 
 18 - N ', - \ N ! P"l M s OK 
 
 Scones wo know in life's gay morning, 
 
 Now, in noon's broad light we view; 
 Boyhood's dreams and manhood's warning 
 
 Tinge the day with Mended hue. 
 Who shall wait the soher evening, 
 
 Who shall wear the 'golden en>wn,' 
 Thanks to Him, the wise All-Seeing, 
 
 Not by us may this he known. 
 
 Hand in hand, as gathering gladly, 
 
 Here we join the narrowing ring, 
 Heart to heart rapoodeth sadly, 
 
 "In nicnioriam " while we sing. 
 One by one, as Time sh:ill sever 
 
 Links that loop the golden chain, 
 Only closer clasjM'd forever 
 
 lie the bands that yet remain ! 
 
 By the joys that gild the Present, 
 
 By our memories of the Past, 
 By the hopes still gleaming pleasant 
 
 O'er life's pathway to the last 
 Classmates! pledge we one another, 
 
 Here 's a health to each and all ! 
 Health to every absent brother! 
 
 Us AND OURS! God bless us all! 
 
 When is heard the same fond greeting, 
 
 Half a century sped aw:iy, 
 Hearts that then may \<-t le beating. 
 
 Warm as ever, still shall pray
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. 19 
 
 "Oh, God bless thee, Alma Mater! 
 
 Guide and guard each son of thine ! 
 Still bless us us lingering later, 
 
 Us, the last of ' Twenty-nine ! ' " 
 
 THE DREAM. 
 
 Written for the Class Meeting. November, 1854. 
 
 ! for one hour of youthful joy ! 
 
 Give back my twentieth spring ! 
 I 'd rather laugh, a bright-haired boy, 
 
 Than reign, a gray-beard king. 
 
 Off with the spoils of wrinkled age ! 
 
 Away with Learning's crown ! 
 Tear out life's "Wisdom-written page, 
 
 And dash its trophies down ! 
 
 One moment let my life-blood stream 
 From boyhood's fount of flame ! 
 
 Give me one giddy, reeling dream 
 Of life all love and fame ! 
 
 My listening angel heard the prayer, 
 And, calmly smiling, said 
 
 " If I but touch thy silvered hair 
 Thy hasty wish hath sped. 
 
 j. H. w.
 
 M SONGS AND POEMS OP 
 
 But is there nothing in thy track, 
 
 To hid thee fondly stay, 
 While the swift seasons hurry back 
 
 To find the wished for day f 
 
 Ah, truest soul of womankind ! 
 
 Without thee what were lif? 
 One bliss I cannot leave behind: 
 
 I '11 take my precious wife ! 
 
 The angel took a sapphire pen 
 And wrote in rainlmw dew 
 
 "The man would be a lny again, 
 And be a husband too! 
 
 And is there nothing yet unsaid, 
 Before the change appears? 
 
 Remember, all their gifts have fled 
 With those dissolving years." 
 
 "Why yes;" for memory would recall 
 
 My fond paternal joys; 
 " I could not Ix'ar to leave them all 
 
 I '11 take my girl and 1>"\ 
 
 The smiling angel dropped his pen 
 "Why this will never do; 
 
 The man would IK- a loy again, 
 And be a father too!"
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 21 
 
 And so I laughed my laughter woke 
 
 The household with its noise, 
 And wrote my dream, when morning broke, 
 
 To please the gray-haired boys. 
 
 Nov. 25, 1854. O. W. H. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Written for Ihe Class Meeting, January 10, 1856. 
 
 And what shall be the song to-night, 
 
 If song there needs must be? 
 If every year that brings us here 
 
 Must steal an hour from me? 
 Say, shall it ring a merry peal, 
 
 Or heave a mourning sigh 
 O'er shadows cast, by years long past, 
 
 On moments flitting by f 
 
 Nay, take the first unbidden line 
 
 The idle hour may send, 
 No studied grace can mend the face 
 
 That smiles as friend on friend ; 
 The balsam oozes from the pine, 
 
 The sweetness from the rose, 
 And so, unsought, a kindly thought 
 
 Finds language as it flows.
 
 SONGS AND POEMS OF 
 
 The years rush by in Hounding flight, 
 
 I hoar their ceaseless wings; 
 Their songs I hear, some far, some near, 
 
 And thus the burden rings: 
 "The morn has fled, the noon has past, 
 
 The sun will soon be set, 
 The twilight fade to midnight shade; 
 
 llememtar and Forget ! " 
 
 Remember all that time has brought 
 
 The starry hope on high, 
 The strength attained, the courage gained, 
 
 The love that cannot die. 
 Forget the bitter, brooding thought, 
 
 The word too harshly said, 
 The living blame love hates to name, 
 
 The frailties of the dead ! 
 
 We have been younger, so they say, 
 
 But let the seasons roll, 
 He doth not lack an almanac, 
 
 Whose youth is in his soul. 
 The snows may clog life's iron track, 
 
 But does the axle tire, 
 While (tearing swift through bank and drift 
 
 The engine's heart of fire? 
 
 I lift a goblet in my hand; 
 
 If good old wine it hold, 
 An ancient skin to keep it in, 
 
 Is just the thing, we 're toll.
 
 THECLASSOF'29. 23 
 
 We're grayer than the dusty flask, 
 
 We're older than our wine; 
 Our corks reveal the "white top" seal, 
 
 The stamp of '29. 
 
 Ah, Boys ! we clustered in the dawn, 
 
 To sever in the dark; 
 A merry crew, with loud halloo, 
 
 We climbed our painted bark ; 
 We sailed her through the four years' cruise, 
 
 We'll sail her to the last, 
 Our dear old flag, though but a rag, 
 
 Still flying on her mast. 
 
 So gliding on, each winter's gale 
 
 Shall pipe us all on deck, 
 Till faint and few, the gathering crew 
 
 Creep o'er the parting wreck, 
 Her sails and streamers spread aloft 
 
 To fortune's rain or shine, 
 Till storm or sun shall all be one, 
 
 And down goes TWENTY-NINE ! 
 
 o. w. H.
 
 -I SONUS AND POEMS OF 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 Written for Ib. CUM MMtinc, Sor.mlr, I8M. 
 
 You'll Mieve me, dear boys, 'tis a pleasure to rise, 
 With a welcome like this in your darling old eyes; 
 To meet the same smiles and to hear the same tone, 
 Which have greeted me oft hi the years that have flown. 
 
 Were I gray as the grayest old rat in the wall, 
 My locks would turn brown at the sight of you all ; 
 If my heart were as dry as the shell on the sand, 
 It would till like the goblet I hold in my hand. 
 
 There are noontides of autumn when summer returns, 
 Tho* the leaves are all garnered and scaled in their urns, 
 And the bird on his perch that was silent so lonjr, 
 Believes the sweet sunshine and breaks into song. 
 
 We have caged the young birds of our beautiful June: 
 Their plumes are still bright and their voices in tune; 
 One moment of sunshine from faces like these 
 And they sing as they sung in the green-growing t 
 
 The voices of morning ! how sweet is tlicir thrill 
 When the shadows have turned, and I lie c veiling grows 
 
 still ! 
 
 The text of our lives may get wiser with age, 
 But the print was so fair on its twentieth page!
 
 THECLASSOF'29. 25 
 
 Look off from your goblet and up from your plate ; 
 Come, take the last journal, and glance at its date : 
 Then think what we fellows should say and should do, 
 If the 6 were a 9 and the 5 were a 2. 
 
 Ah, no ! for the shapes that would meet with us here, 
 From the far land of shadows, are ever too dear! 
 Though youth flung around us its pride and its charms, 
 We should see but the comrades we clasped in our arms. 
 
 A health to our future a sigh for our past, 
 We love, we remember, we hope to the last; 
 And for all the base lies that the almanacs hold, 
 While we 've youth in our hearts we can never gro\\ old ! 
 
 NOVEMBER 6, 1856. O. W. H. 
 
 MARE RUBRUM. 
 
 Written for the Annual Meeting of the Class, 1858. 
 
 Flash out a stream of blood-red wine, 
 
 For I would drink to other ,days, 
 And brighter shall their memory shine, 
 
 Seen flaming through its crimson blaze ! 
 The roses die, the summers fade, 
 
 But every ghost of boyhood's dream 
 By nature's magic power is laid 
 
 To sleep beneath this blood-red stream !
 
 M 80NOS AND POKMS OK 
 
 It filled the purple grapes that lay, 
 
 And drank the splendors of the sun, 
 When the long summer's cloudless day 
 
 Is mirrored in the broad Garonne; 
 It pictures still the bacchant sha]>cs 
 
 That saw their hoarded sunlight shed, 
 The maidens dancing on the grab's, 
 
 Their milk-white ancles splashed with red. 
 
 Beneath these waves of crimson lie, 
 
 In rosy fetters prisoned fast, 
 Those flitting shapes that never die, 
 
 The swift-winged visions of the past. 
 Kiss but the crystal's mystic rim 
 
 Each shadow rends it flower}' chain, 
 Springs in a bubble from it brim 
 
 And walks the chambers of the brain. 
 
 Poor beauty ! Time and fortune's wrong 
 
 No shajM' nor feature may withstand ; 
 Thy wrecks are scattered all along, 
 
 Like emptied sea-shells on the sand ; 
 Yet, sprinkled with this blushing rain, 
 
 The dust restores each blooming .girl, 
 As if the sea-shells moved again 
 
 Their glistening lips of pink and pearl. 
 
 Here lies the home of school-hoy life. 
 
 With creaking stair and wind-swept hall, 
 And, warred by many a truant knife. 
 
 Our old initials on the wall;
 
 THECLASSOF'29. 27 
 
 Here rest, their keen vibrations mute, 
 The shout of voices known so well, 
 
 The ringing laugh, the wailing flute, 
 The chiding of the sharp-tongued bell. 
 
 Here, clad in burning robes, are laid 
 
 Life's blossomed joys, untimely shed, 
 And here those cherished forms have strayed 
 
 We miss awhile, and call them dead. 
 What wizard fills the w r ondrous glass ? 
 
 What soil the enchanted clusters grew? 
 That buried passions wake and pass 
 
 In beaded drops of fiery dew! 
 
 Nay ! take the cup of blood-red wine, 
 
 Our hearts can boast a warmer glow, 
 Filled from a vintage more divine, 
 
 Calmed, but not chilled, by winter's snow ! 
 To-night .the palest wave we sip 
 
 Rich as the priceless draught shall be 
 That wet the bride of Cana's lip, 
 
 The wedding wine of Galilee ! 
 JANUARY 14, 1858. O. W. H.
 
 - x SONUS AND POKM8 OF 
 
 P O K M . 
 
 Mrillrn f..r ib CUM MMtlnf, Jnouarr II. I/O! 
 
 Til E MOLE. 
 
 As I wound my way in the ground, 
 
 A nice little rootlet I found; 
 
 I followed it curiously, 
 
 Till it joined the trunk of the: tree. 
 
 There other rootlets collected, 
 From all roots with care selected, 
 Joined and soared, so my neighbors say, 
 A grand tree-stalk in air and day. 
 
 THE COLLEGE GOODY. ( Loquitur. J 
 
 At the College door I stand, 
 My broom and pail in my IKUM!, 
 It ' the year of grace '25, 
 And there come, as I 'in alive, 
 Some white-headed, Mack-headed l>oyg, 
 (Here and then- a red one for choice,) 
 And I think, as I see them pa--. 
 Here comet h the Freshman Class. 
 
 A ROBIX RED-BREAST. f/,o////;//- ., 
 
 Ily my faith, this tree's tall and \vide. 
 Hearing cherries, ripe on each side;
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. 29 
 
 This branch grows straight in the air, 
 These sideways, these others nowhere; 
 But all these brother branches are good 
 For leaves, branches, cherries, and wood. 
 
 DR. NOTES AND DR. HEDGE. (Loquuntnr.) 
 
 Dr. Noycs 
 
 My class is a fine one, Sir, 
 Some day they will make a stir, 
 There's Crocker, a capital Greek; 
 There's Storrow will work by the week, 
 Then there's others, of whom I wont speak. 
 
 Dr. Hedge 
 
 No ! I think you \1 better keep quiet, 
 For some are bad boys at a riot, 
 There 's Winslow his logic is slim, 
 And Richardson what of him ? 
 
 THE OWL. ( Philosophises. ) 
 
 I've bothered my brains to see, 
 
 The typical truth of this tree, 
 
 Its essence and unity. 
 
 First, a number of rootlets fine, 
 
 Then, these in one trunk combine, 
 
 Then, into branches divide; 
 
 Yet these branches still keep side by side.
 
 30 S..N,;S A M> I'oi: M> el' 
 
 TUB OWL'S WIFE. (Uespontls.) 
 
 The tree is a type, my dear, 
 
 Of the CMass which assembles this year 
 
 In the house 'yclept The Itercrc. 
 
 Like roots they together met, 
 
 In the trunk which holds them yet. 
 
 They soared into air together, 
 
 Took wind and sun, rain and fair weather; 
 
 But though each may his own way go, 
 
 Together they join below 
 
 Held fast to each other yet 
 
 By scenes they will never forget; 
 
 Scenes which moulded each youthful breast, 
 
 Like the seal on soft wax impressed. 
 
 POET. (Concludes.) 
 
 We met, we parted, but still 
 
 Cling together for good and ill. 
 
 Divided in thought, and life, 
 
 Each joins in the world's great strife. 
 
 But one day in each changing year, 
 
 Shall see us assembled here; 
 
 Forgetting for one brief hour. 
 
 Our struggles for fame, and power. 
 
 In the old familiar f.icrs. 
 
 Each classmate the past retrace-. 
 
 And joys to forget ull strife. 
 
 All difference in thought and life;
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. 31 
 
 To go to his boyhood again, 
 
 To leave the labor of men, 
 
 And toast, with water and wine, 
 
 The GRAND CLASS OF TWENTY-NINE. 
 
 j. F. c. 
 
 THE BOYS. 
 
 Written for the Class Meeting, January 6, 1859. 
 
 Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys? 
 If there has, take him out, without making a noise. 
 Hang the Almanac's cheat and the Catalogue's spite ! 
 Old time is a liar ! We 're twenty to-night ! 
 
 We 're twenty ! We 're twenty ! Who says we are more ? 
 He's tipsy, young jackanapes! show him the door! 
 "Gray temples at twenty?" Yes! tchite if we please; 
 Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there's nothing can 
 freeze ! 
 
 Was it snowing I spoke off Excuse the mistake! 
 Look close, you will see not a sign of a flake ! 
 We want some new garlands for those we have shed, 
 And these are white roses in place of the red. 
 
 We 've a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told, 
 Of talking (in public) as if we were old : 
 That boy we call " Doctor," and this we call " Judge ; " 
 It' s a neat little fiction, of course it 's all fudge.
 
 32 SONGS AND POEMS OF 
 
 That fellow 's the Speaker," the one on the right ; 
 "Mr. Mayor," my young one, how are you to-night? 
 That 's our " Member of Congress," we say when we chaff; 
 There's the "Kevercnd" What's his name? don't 
 make me laugh. 
 
 That IMIV with the grave mathematical look 
 
 Made U-lieve he had written a wonderful hook, 
 
 And the ROYAL SOCIETY thought it was true! 
 
 So they chose him right in ; a good joke it was, too ! 
 
 There's a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain, 
 That could harness a team with a logical chain; 
 When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire, 
 We called him "The Justice," but now he's "The 
 Squire." 
 
 And there 's a nice youngster of excellent pith, 
 Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith: 
 But he shouted a song for the brave and the free, 
 Just read on his menial, " My country," " of thee ! " 
 
 You hear that boy laughing? You think he's all fun; 
 But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has ilin : 
 The children laugh loud as they troop to his call. 
 And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all ! 
 
 Yes, we're boys, always playing with tongue or with 
 
 pen, 
 And I sometimes have asked, Shall we ever he men! ,
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. 33 
 
 Shall we always be youthful, and laughing, and gay, 
 Till the last dear companion drops smiling away? 
 
 Then here 's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray ! 
 The stars of its winter, the dews of its May ! 
 And when we have done with our life-lasting toys, 
 Dear Father, take care of thy children, THE BOYS ! 
 
 o. w. H. 
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Written for the Meeting of the Class, January, 1859. 
 
 Air, " Araby's Daughter." 
 
 Though cast are our burdens of care to the morrow, 
 And brothers and classmates have met once again, 
 
 The iris-hued tissue is shaded with sorrow, 
 The chorus of joy has a minor of pain. 
 
 'T is fit that rejoicing be chastened by sadness, 
 Remembering those who have passed on before, 
 
 Whose warm clasp of friendship, and bright looks of 
 
 gladness, 
 In these our re-unions, shall mingle no more. 
 
 Though lost in the distance those glittering fountains, 
 Whose green sunny banks we can never re-tread, 
 
 Though frown darkly round us life's bare rugged mountains, 
 And the far-stretching torrid plain covers our dead ;
 
 34 80NG8 AND POEMS OP 
 
 May the years ami the graves that are lying behind us 
 Exorcise the demons of self and of pride; 
 
 Dear thoughts of the past and a common hojw hind us 
 Still eloser to those who remain at our side. 
 
 Be that Divine Love which surrounds and enfolds us 
 Our shield from the evil, our strength for the right ; 
 
 And we, when the prison is broken that holds us, 
 Be evermore brothers in mansions of light. 
 
 O dear Alma Mater, so often forgiving 
 
 Thy wild, wayward children, may no blush of shame 
 Be thine for thy "offspring, but may we, while living, 
 
 Emblazon thy glory and cherish thy fame. 
 
 Nor will we, O revered of thy sons, e'er forget thee 
 Till life from its death-stricken casket departs, 
 
 Entwined with our fondest affections we'll set thee, 
 While throbs in our bosoms one pulse of our hearts. 
 
 B. p. w.
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 35 
 
 THE PROSPECT. 
 
 Written for the Meeting of the Class, January, 1859. 
 
 Air, "Aukl Lang Syne. 
 
 Close up ! Close up ! That trumpet call, 
 
 Where iron hailstones pour, 
 Where thick and fast the warriors fall, 
 
 Rings through the battle's roar. 
 
 Close up ! In this fierce war of life, 
 
 Shall not our little band, 
 Calm and resolved amid the strife, 
 
 Shoulder to shoulder stand! 
 
 Who will not, for the good and right 
 
 His brothers by his side 
 With earth's true heroes stem the fight, 
 
 Or fall as martyrs died? 
 
 Lo ! fast they drop, the wise, the good, 
 
 Whole ranks are down in front, 
 Up, with a holy hardihood, 
 
 And meet the battle's brunt. 
 
 Though we have slumbered at our posts, 
 
 Away all vain regret; 
 Close up ! Invoke the Lord of Hosts, 
 
 And we shall conquer yet.
 
 36 SONUS AND POEMS OF 
 
 When comes the truce, and for a while 
 The deafening thunders cease, 
 
 The hearty grasp, the kindly smile, 
 Shall greet our brief release. 
 
 And so, we, spared to gather here, 
 
 And pledge the social cup, 
 While to our lost we give a tear, 
 
 Will eheerly yet elose up. 
 
 B. P. w. 
 
 IN MKMOK1AM. 
 
 Written tar tb Clu* MUn. J.nu,ry 6, IMX 
 
 The friendships we fonned when life was still young, 
 The sport* that we joined in, the songs we then sung, 
 How oft from the chambers of memory they well. 
 Like the echo of waves in the beautiful shell. 
 
 The griefs we have met on the pathway of life. 
 The conquests won bravely amid tin- stern strife; 
 The light and the shadow, the joy and the wo, 
 Form, like sun-whine and rain-drop, the radiant bow 
 That reste on the brow of the storms that are o'er, 
 That lights up the wave where it breaks mi the sliore : 
 That fades like the fair hues of hopes that are riven, 
 
 * 
 
 But sails, as it fades, through the blue arch of heaven.
 
 THECLASSOF'29. 37 
 
 The garlands we wove on the foretop of time, 
 
 Though robbed of the freshness they wore in our prime ; 
 
 The castles we built, so lofty and fair, 
 
 Though crumbled to dust, or vanished in air; 
 
 The barques we once freighted with hearts beating high, 
 
 And launched on the sea without tremor or sigh, 
 
 Though sunk in the ocean, or dashed on the reef, 
 
 The more grand their career, the more sad and more brief; 
 
 Though the plants we have loved to the angels are given, 
 
 Having climbed o'er the wall and are blooming in heaven ; 
 
 Still this chain of our love does not tarnish with years, 
 
 Nor wear with the friction of toil and of tears ; 
 
 Nor crumble in dust, nor vanish like breath, 
 
 Nor chill with the darkness and shadow of death; 
 
 Nor perish in shipwreck, nor waste in the tomb, 
 
 A thing to be lost in earth's gathering gloom; 
 
 Though time's jealous fingers make all things decay, 
 
 We brighten its links as the yeai-s pass away; 
 
 We fastened the lock in our youth and our glee, 
 
 Then wandered abroad and have lost the sole key ; 
 
 The heart-clasp unites so firmly the chain, 
 
 That 'tis welded by time and must ever remain. 
 
 s. F. s.
 
 38 SONGS AND POEMS OF 
 
 OUR BROTHERHOOD. 
 
 Wrtttm for ItM CU*. Mewling, Jory 6, 1898. 
 
 Why gather wo here with zest so keen, 
 
 Forsaking fireside- joys? 
 Why blooms with flowers this gladsome scene? 
 
 What mean these table toys? 
 Old Time, to-night, we 'd put to flight, 
 
 And once again be boys! 
 
 To meet around the social board, 
 
 To laugh and chat a while, 
 And, intervening years ignored, 
 
 At frosty Age to smile; 
 To sing the songs of other days, 
 
 To hear each much-loved voice 
 In this delight, once more to-night, 
 
 We gratefully rejoice. 
 
 Nor this alone there is another, 
 
 To crotcn our festive cheer; 
 It is to name each one a brother, 
 
 Who comes to inert us ln-re : 
 
 To know we're close in one firm clasp. 
 
 Howe'er by fate apart; 
 And, as each separate hand we grasp, 
 
 To feel but one great heart!
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 39 
 
 Assured we've come, as children, home, 
 Sons, all, of one dear mother; 
 
 Eager to know the weal or woe 
 Of each beloved brother. 
 
 Though ocean waves bear far away 
 
 One dear to every other, 
 Where'er he stray, for him to pray 
 
 " God speed thee, oh my brother ! " 
 
 Diverse although our fortunes flow, 
 
 To glory in each other ! 
 When honors wreathe a classmates brow, 
 
 To say "Ah ! he 's my brother ! " 
 
 Or, if hard luck has been the lot 
 
 Of one or of another, 
 Old ties, old times, not yet forgot, 
 
 To think " He 's still my brother ! " 
 
 Should ever stain bedim a name 
 Whose promise had been other, 
 
 To neither shrink, nor shirk the shame, 
 But own " He is my brother ! " 
 
 Whatever he be or high or low, 
 
 Minus his sign, or plus 
 Alpha, Omega enough to know 
 
 He was he is of us !
 
 40 ION"* A N I. 1-oK M s OF 
 
 Ah ! this, dear friends, this is tho charm 
 That hallows all our greetings, 
 
 And such the thoughts that sweetly swarm 
 At these fraternal meetings. 
 
 Oh ! cherish, then, till time shall close 
 
 Their dearly-prized returns, 
 The love that only wanner grows, 
 
 The longer that it burns! 
 
 j. H. w. 
 
 A TOAST. 
 
 Propowd it (he CUM Moling. January, 1M9. 
 
 The Autocrat's J/V/.sr 
 
 Like the good widow's cruise, 
 The more it flows out, the fuller it grows! 
 
 The more, then, we drink, 
 
 The less reason to think 
 It ever will come to a close! 
 
 What promise is this. 
 
 How brimming with bliss, 
 To charm us as none but our poet is able : 
 
 Then, brothers, pledge here 
 
 A health and good cheer 
 To the pride and delight of tun- Dinner Table. 
 
 J. H.
 
 THECLASSOF'29. 41 
 
 LINES. 
 
 Written for the Class Meeting, 18CO. 
 
 I'm ashamed, that's the fact, it's a pitiful case, 
 Won 't any kind classmate get up in my place ? 
 Just remember how often I've risen before, 
 I blush as I straighten my legs on the floor ! 
 
 There are stories, once pleasing, too many times told, 
 There are beauties once charming, too fearfully old, 
 There are voices we've heard till we know them so well, 
 Though they talked for an hour they 'd have nothing to tell. 
 
 Yet, Classmates ! Friends! Brothers! dear blessed old boys ! 
 Made one by a life-time of sorrows and joys, 
 What lips have such sounds as the poorest of these, 
 Though honeyed, like Plato's, by musical bees? 
 
 What voice is so sweet and what greeting so dear 
 As the simple, warm welcome that waits for us here? 
 The love of our boyhood still breathes in its tone, 
 And our hearts throb the answer " He 's one of our own ! " 
 
 Nay ! count not our numbers ; some sixty we know, 
 But these are above, and those under the snow; 
 And thoughts are still mingled wherever we meet 
 For those we remember with those that we greet. 
 
 L, J8 
 
 4*
 
 !-' BONUS AMD POEMS OF 
 
 We have rolled on life's journey, how fust ami how far! 
 One round of humanity*!* many-wheeled ear, 
 But up-hill ami down-hill, through rattle and nib, 
 Old, true Twenty-niners ! we've stuck to our huh! 
 
 While a brain lives to think, or a bosom to feel, 
 We will cling to it still like the spokes of a wheel! 
 And age, as it chills us, shall fasten the tire 
 That youth fitted round in his circle of fire ! 
 
 JAXCARY 5, 1860. O. W. II. 
 
 REMINISCENCES. 
 
 Written for the CUM Mretlng, January 4, 1800. 
 
 What class of all old Harvard's classes, 
 The "Class of Twenty-nine" surpasses, 
 Albeit some wen- reckoned asses 
 
 lly Tutor N-y-s, 
 When he and others with dire inal 
 The old Professors and their allies. 
 Within the Presidential palaee. 
 
 On our poor boys, 
 
 (Who now and then of cloudy mornings. 
 Despite repeated threats and warnings, 
 Forgot the bell at early dawnir 
 
 Vented their ire.
 
 THECLASSOF'29. 43 
 
 And in the shape of admonitions 
 Public and private, hard conditions, 
 And all regardless of petitions 
 
 Thrown in the fire, 
 
 Arranged and classed us into sections, 
 And by their whimsical directions 
 Transformed our classical affections 
 
 To bitter hate; 
 
 And thus aroused by what we reckon'd 
 A deep injustice vengeance beckon'd 
 Our young minds thoroughly to second 
 
 Deeds desperate ! 
 
 Which to revenge, the squad of tutors, 
 For college favors who were suitors, 
 "With proctors and their co-adjutors, 
 About our mugs 
 
 Showered governmental invitations, 
 And made such hostile intimations, 
 That we were in quite cool relations 
 With the big bugs. 
 
 And chief among our youthful follies, 
 Were bonfires round the pumps of Hollis, 
 Salvos, salutes, and rattling vollies 
 
 Of cannon balls, 
 
 Which down stairs rolling make such clatter, 
 Each tutor's teeth are fain to chatter, 
 And seeking to find out the matter, 
 
 The proctor calls.
 
 II - \ ., > A M> I'., I Ms 
 
 And once it happen'd Tutor Ot-s, 
 (With very little previous notice,) 
 Found in his room, as the report is, 
 
 A horrid smell ; 
 Like onion j>erfume concentrated, 
 With fragrant brimstone triturated, 
 And which for weeks had not abated 
 
 Its odor fell. 
 
 And who's forgot the Greek Majoras 
 
 And Dr. P-pk-n, when, before us, 
 
 On ponies mounted, like "rude Boreas," 
 
 Some dodg'd a screw, 
 He made in tones of shrewd suspicion 
 To those bold riders his decision, 
 That those same books in private session 
 He wished to view. 
 
 Yet from that tomb of interliners, 
 That stood hard by Hoi worthy minors, 
 Xo tears, no prayers, no golden shiners 
 
 Could ever draw 
 
 One forfeit book from his possession. 
 When *inc<- tin- convict made confrs>ion. 
 That, in his wish for quick progression. 
 
 II- M lirokc the law. 
 
 Who can forget the saintly unction, 
 And pious fervor in conjunction, 
 Wherewith old Prex his solemn function, 
 At morning prayers,
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. 45 
 
 Discharged with such serene composure 
 To those who brav'd the great exposure 
 Of crossing o'er the yard's enclosure, 
 
 Up those stone stairs; 
 
 And then ascending one more story, 
 
 Lo ! Dr. H. in all his glory, 
 
 Sat in his arm-chair right before ye, 
 
 Logic in hand ; 
 To hear discussions voluntary, 
 Forced from the speechless and unwary, 
 On plea that thus 'twas necessary 
 
 To understand. 
 
 And oh ! the ghosts of those back lessons, 
 Required of us in lengthened sessions, 
 Which even now we'll make confessions, 
 
 To his assigns, 
 
 Are still unpaid and those demises, 
 Which seeming mortal 'twould surprise us 
 How a poor patient from such crisis 
 
 New vigor finds. 
 
 To Commons Hall now turn we gladly, 
 For though the grub was cook'd so badly, 
 Yet still we favorVl King and Hadley, 
 
 That unctuous pair, 
 
 For now and then the meats they'd bring us 
 They'd fail to find with prying fingers, 
 (Beneath the table where it lingers, 
 
 Pinn'd hard up there.)
 
 I'. lON'iS A Ml I'M] \! s 
 
 And though one evil-minded varlct, 
 Without a twinge or taming scarlet, 
 On one occasion from afar let 
 
 Drive at King's head 
 A teapot tillM with Ivoiling water, 
 His majesty thought it no matter, 
 And shaking off the fluid sought a 
 
 Dry place instead. 
 
 And then how we did growl and mutter 
 At the stale bread and hirsute butter, 
 And those old geese that fain would utter, 
 
 If they had breath 
 
 And parts of speech, that, without joking, 
 They were the same whose timely croaking 
 Saved Rome from sanguinary soaking 
 
 And civic death. 
 
 O'erhaul your mem'ries ye that have one, 
 And say who haunted Wil lard's tavern, 
 Or dove down in that dismal cavern, 
 
 'Neath Harvard Hall, 
 And groping round among the bottle-. 
 Seized this and that one by their throttles, 
 And served them as they do at hotels 
 
 When boarders call. 
 
 In early term-time too 'twas pleasant. 
 When cash and appetites were present 
 (Alas they both were evanescent), 
 For some to go,
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 47 
 
 At least I well remember I did, 
 And several now within my eye did, 
 To that dim cellar where presided 
 P. and S. Snow ; 
 
 And of their oysters quick partaking, 
 As suddenly the place forsaking, 
 Sometimes without due payment making, 
 
 We saunter'd o'er 
 
 To Porter's, when flip was in season, 
 Assigning as a valid reason, 
 The air was cold, and it was freezing 
 
 Without the door. 
 
 If I had Holmes's gift I'd teach ye, 
 (Prithee don't smile now I beseech ye,) 
 How I, with Austin and with Eitchie, 
 
 Heaven be their rest! 
 Prepared a part for exhibition 
 For our most gifted rhetorician, 
 And sent it off upon its mission, 
 
 With special zest. 
 
 And how our agency mistrusted 
 He straightway hat and coat adjusted, 
 And off to Dr. H's posted, 
 
 To learn from him 
 Whether or no at their last meeting, 
 Those old nobs deem'd it right and fitting, 
 That he should have so mark'd a greeting, 
 
 Or was't a whim
 
 -..\ ..> A M> I'..] M -, OK 
 
 Of WHIM' of those fourth-section asses f 
 The old l*rofes>r raised his glasses, 
 And said that when the different classes 
 
 Had parts assigned, 
 He was not present at the quorum, 
 But So and So presided o'er 'em, 
 And he, while sipping down his jorum, 
 
 Would bear't in mind ; 
 
 So thereupon for t' other's study, 
 With intellect a little muddy, 
 And visage not a little ruddy, 
 
 He made a track; 
 And finding the old man \\iiliin it, 
 Got at the truth within a minute, 
 And learning there was nothing in it, 
 
 March'd forthwith back. 
 
 But time would fail me did I mention 
 A tithe of what, with small attention, 
 Would entertain this learned convention 
 
 Of lawyers, pric- 
 
 And men renowned in various callings, 
 On bench, at bar, in short for all things 
 That men bee.. me iii their he fallings, 
 
 At work or feasts. 
 
 Then brethren here's a flowing bumper 
 To each survivor of our number, 
 And heaven forefend that any slumber 
 
 the ground,
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. 49 
 
 Until the years' successive fleetings 
 Shall bring us many kindred meetings, 
 Where each shall hail fraternal greetings 
 
 From all around. 
 
 F. w. c. 
 
 FIFTY YEARS. 
 
 [The members of the "Class of 1829" are at this date, with but two or 
 three exceptions, fifty years old.] 
 
 Written for the Class Meeting, Jan. 5, 1860. 
 
 '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. 
 
 blissful were the hours, 
 
 When, with brilliant hopes, and young, 
 We launched our barque on life's bright sea, 
 
 And wooed the Syren'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.
 
 50 s"N -iS AN I. I'c.i: Ms (IK 
 
 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, wo stand, 
 
 We have finished fifty years. 
 
 Now back we turn to view 
 
 The path our steps have trod, 
 And, yeaming, 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 f.fly 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. 
 
 We have finished fifty years; 
 
 But our friendship, warm and true, 
 Unchanging marks the lapse nf time. 
 
 Like heaven's immortal blue.
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 51 
 
 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 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. 
 
 FIDES CONSERVATRIX. 
 
 S. F. S. 
 
 Written for the Class Meeting, January, 18CO. 
 
 AIR " Drink to me only." 
 
 Come, gather here, with heartier cheer, 
 
 The farther on we glide, 
 With every sere and ripening year, 
 
 Down time's on-sweeping tide. 
 And if fair gales our canvass fill, 
 
 And not a cloud we see, 
 Let "Auld Lang Sync" be precious still 
 
 To you, glad friend, and me.
 
 S.-N.iS \ N I- I'o IMs OK 
 
 Start wannly here, the manly tear, 
 
 For those passed on before, 
 Whose voices dear no more we hear, 
 
 "Who walk with us no more. 
 What though the skies he dark al>ove, 
 
 And many treasures flee, 
 I 1 is well to prize the ancient love 
 
 For you, sad friend, and me. 
 
 PUB quickly here, all gloomy fear, 
 
 For lie who sets the how, 
 Where, wild and drear, the storms career, 
 
 Will heal the Marah's flow. 
 Then let the kindly thoughts that swell 
 
 Our hearts, an earnest be, 
 That He will order all things well, 
 
 For you, old friends, and me. 
 
 B. P. w.
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. 53 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Written for the Class MuBtinj, January 5, I860. 
 
 AIR " Farewell, and whenever." 
 
 With hearts, boys, of old, we still welcome the hour, 
 That brings back the springtime with youth's rosy dower; 
 And if Time's wing has shadowed each once flashing brow, 
 His spell we'll dissolve in bright memories now. 
 Though that spell be renewed with to-morrow's first beam, 
 That awakens the heai't from its fond vanished dream, 
 Life's gloom it will soften and gild its best cheer, 
 To remember how blest we've been, lingering here. 
 
 And thus, all re-kindled our hearts' early glow 
 
 By the rays that yet gleam from the long, long ago; 
 
 They may oft droop with sorrow but ne'er feel it's blight, 
 
 Reviving, like flowers, in the magic sun-light. 
 
 Bathing thus in Youth's fountain, sporting still with its 
 
 wiles, 
 
 Our souls, to night, beam with Hope's warm sunny smiles; 
 And as the name of some absent one blends with our eheer, 
 Each kind voice shall murmur, "I wish he were here." 
 
 Let Fate do her worst to imbitter life's joy, 
 These gleams from the past she can never destroy, 
 They'll shed their bright rays amid sorrow and care, 
 Fresh strength they will give us to do and to dare.
 
 80X08 AND POEMS OF 
 
 Then still, as the Karth circling round with the year 
 Brings again the blest hour of our hearts'-meeting here, 
 We'll hail the glad summon*, as hlythe as of yore, 
 Till the last trembling foot-step shall echo no more! 
 
 J. A. 
 
 THE IlETROSl'KCT. 
 
 Extract from Po.ro. wriitrn fur th CUM Meeting, Jun. 5, 1900. 
 ***** 
 
 We too have each our pebble ca>t 
 On the foundations of the past : 
 
 While midnight stars look calmly down, 
 One weaves himself an astral crown ; 
 Chasing the reeling comet's flight 
 Through studious watches of the night, 
 Tracking the far-revolving spheres 
 That circle out the endless years 
 The paths empyrean as he trod, 
 That radiate from the thnmu of God. 
 
 Another weary hour beguiles, 
 The Autocrat of tears and smiles 
 Mingling keen Joke and solemn Truth. 
 While sober age and careless youth
 
 THECLASSOF'29. 55 
 
 Maintain a kindly war, 
 And laughing Wit sings Wisdom's words, 
 As sportive Fancy sweeps the chords, 
 Tinkling her light guitar. 
 
 Others, meanwhile, in halls of State 
 
 Guided the reins of high debate ; 
 
 And some, in sharp forensic fight, 
 
 Upheld the laws of human right; 
 
 Or, faithful to a lofty trust, 
 
 Bade ermined Sophistry be just 
 
 Firm buttressing with weighty thought 
 
 The creed our free-soulcd Fathers taught. 
 
 Each one has thought some thought of flame, 
 
 Which, tho' unvoiced by vulgar fame, 
 
 Nor graved on written scroll, 
 
 Has thrilled on some expectant ear, 
 
 Drawn forth some sympathetic tear 
 
 Or spoke the whispered words that roll 
 
 Their echoes o'er the human soul. 
 
 Great things are those which History's page 
 Reads to the wonder-nurtured age, 
 On kindling heart and thoughtful brow 
 They tarry, but we pass them now. 
 For not the conqueror's thundering march, 
 Nor garlands from fame's laureled arch, 
 Not beauty's liquid eye of light 
 Claims our heart's mastery to-night 
 Back roll the fervid wheels of time;
 
 M SONUS AND POEMS OF 
 
 And yonder clock's melodious ehimo 
 
 Counts day and date in vain; * 
 
 In spite of astronomic sign 
 
 Kinjrs out the hours of '29, 
 
 And we are l>oys again. 
 
 Though many an antic he has played 
 
 Since first from Harvard's walls wo strayed 
 
 On wrinkling brow and grizzled hair 
 
 Setting the signet mark of care 
 
 The spirit mocks- at time. 
 
 The weary troubles of the past 
 
 Con no obtrusive shadow cast 
 
 On the bright dial of the heart, 
 
 When gladdening sympathies impart 
 
 To the waste, bankrupt soul of age 
 
 The treasured strength of manhood's stage, 
 
 The glories of our prime. 
 
 ****** 
 
 For what is life but manhood's school 
 To feel, to think, to do 
 And gather round stern duty's rule, 
 Each generous joy, each cheering mood, 
 In warm and genial brotherhood 
 That thought of power and deed of good, 
 All silvered with love's holy light, 
 May star the dusky skirts of night 
 From point to point with iiM-morirs bright, 
 To guide our footstep- tl trough 
 That every flowen-t's curly bloom 
 May shed its fragrance o'er the tomb,
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 57 
 
 Sweet, pure and stainless as, at first, 
 Their fresh and glowing petals burst 
 To drink life's morning dew. 
 
 And when, upon the farther shore 
 
 We gather once again, 
 To con life's finished lessons o'er, 
 The mighty master's face before 
 
 Be every record plain! 
 
 And Heaven open wide her door 
 To our unbroken band once more; 
 And every name immortal shine, 
 That marked the roll of '29. 
 
 G. H. D. 
 
 CLASS MEETING DAY, 1860. 
 
 Not a word have I written to-day, 
 Not a word though the class will meet; 
 
 And every man may be called to say 
 Something merry, or grave, or sweet. 
 
 Thirty years of our life have past, 
 
 Since each one said "The curriculum's done; 
 So, Boys, farewell, for now at last 
 
 Now our work of life has begun."
 
 58 BONOS AND POEMS OF 
 
 Thirty years of our life have fled, 
 As the feathery Cirri are drifted along, 
 
 In the deep quiet of Heaven o'erhead, 
 By the great air-current, steady and strong. 
 
 Busy and painful and anxious years, 
 Cheerful and glad and hopeful days, 
 
 Sunny with smiles, or dropping in tears, 
 So have we gone on our many ways. 
 
 Some have steadily mounted up, 
 Borne by the force of a purpose strong, 
 
 And drained to its bottom the golden cup, 
 Whose wine shall still to the brave belong. 
 
 Their heads shall the grateful laurels hide, 
 Laurels of Science, Thought, Wit and Art; 
 
 Many may praise them with thankful pride, 
 But we, with a deeper pride of the Iwart. 
 
 Others, in country, or cities far, 
 On the broad ocean, or prairie grand, 
 
 Wage the ever-returning war, 
 War of Life's work, with head and hand. 
 
 Some for freedom, in life-long fight, 
 Give their best days till the hair turn gray; 
 
 Scarcely a glimpse of morning light 
 Tinging their East with its promise of day.
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 
 
 59 
 
 Some for the Saviour and Friend of man 
 
 Utter their faithful witness still; 
 Cheering the mourner, faint and wan, 
 
 With blessed water of Siloa's rill. 
 
 Yet a few years and our task is o'er ; 
 
 Yet, dear friends, when we bid farewell 
 To the griefs and joys of this earthly shore, 
 
 Our last faint words shall gladly tell, 
 
 Thankful for Life and its gladsome song, 
 
 With all God's gifts that these combine 
 Friendships which each has shared so long 
 
 With his brothers " the boys of '29." 
 
 j. F. c. 
 JANUARY 5, 1860. 
 
 A VOICE OF THE LOYAL NORTH. 
 
 Written for the Class Meeting, January 3, 1861. 
 
 We sing "Our Country's" song to night 
 
 With saddened voice and eye; 
 Her banner droops in clouded light 
 
 Beneath the wintry sky. 
 We'll pledge her once in golden wine 
 
 Before her stars have set; 
 Though dim one reddening orb may shine, 
 
 We have a Country yet.
 
 M 80X08 AND POKMS OF 
 
 Twero vaiu to sigh oVr errors past, 
 
 The fiuilt of sires or sons ; 
 Our soldier heard the threatening blast, 
 
 And spiked his useless guns; 
 He Mtw the star-wreathed ensign full, 
 
 By mad invaders torn; 
 But saw it from the hastioned wall 
 
 That laughed their rage to scorn! 
 
 What though their angry cry is flung 
 
 Across the howling wave, 
 They smite the air with idle tongue 
 
 The gathering storm who brave; 
 Enough of speech ! the trumpet rings ; 
 
 Be silent, patient, calm, 
 God help them if the tempest swings 
 
 The pine against the palm! 
 
 Our toilsome years have made us tame; 
 
 Our strength has slept unfelt; 
 The furnace-fire is slow to flame 
 
 That bids our ploughshares melt; 
 Tis hard to lose the bread they \\iii 
 
 In spite of Nature's frowns, 
 To drop the iron threads \\e spin 
 
 That weave our web of towns, 
 
 To see the rusting turbines stand 
 Before the emptied flumes, 
 
 To fold the anus that fl<><"l the land 
 With rivers from their looms,
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 61 
 
 But harder still for those who learn 
 
 The truth forgot so long; 
 When once their slumbering passions burn, 
 
 The peaceful are the strong ! 
 
 The Lord have mercy on the weak, 
 
 And calm their frenzied ire, 
 And save our brothers ere they shriek, 
 
 " We played with Northern fire ! " 
 The eagle hold his mountain height, 
 
 The tiger pace his den ! 
 Give all their country, each his right ! 
 
 God keep us all ! Amen ! 
 
 o. w. H. 
 
 REDITU S. 
 
 Written for the Class Meeting, January, 1861. 
 
 AlE "Begone, dull care." 
 
 Old Time, a-dieu; 
 A sleepiest watch is thine; 
 
 For here's thy crew, 
 Returned to " Twenty-Nine." 
 As nodding thou, with careless oar, 
 
 Wast rowing us down to sea, 
 Thy shallop, unpiloted, touched the shore, 
 And joyous fugitives we. 
 
 6
 
 H 80N08 AND POEMS OF 
 
 Again wo greet 
 Fair, welcoming Harvard's walls; 
 
 And quick, glad feet 
 Awaken her echoing halls. 
 Now Hope is young and the pulse is strong, 
 
 And merrily dawns the day : 
 The voyage of life looks happy and long, 
 And nobody's bald or gray. 
 
 To-night recall 
 Those glorious by -gone years; 
 
 Away be all 
 
 Dispiriting doubts and fears. 
 For those shall laugh, and these shall sing, 
 
 While never a care annoys; 
 And our bright laureate's lyre shall ring 
 To glorify all the "Bors." 
 
 Come, lads, who HI troll 
 The jovial, good old song? 
 And thou, prime droll, 
 Propel us that joke along. 
 Unfledged M. D.s and parsons roar, 
 
 Green counsellors shake their sides, 
 " We 're twenty, we 're twenty who says we 
 
 are more!" 
 And twenty old Time derides.
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 63 
 
 What though chill dawn 
 Shall hurry us all aboard, 
 Be thou, Care, gone, 
 This hour we prithee afford. 
 Then, friends, laugh on, till the beautiful dream 
 
 Shall vanish in "Auld Lang Syne," 
 And morn re-launch, on the eddying stream, 
 
 The "BOYS OF TWENTY-NINE." 
 
 B. P. W. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF J. D. R. 
 
 Read at the Class Meeting, January 23, 1862. 
 
 The friends that are, and friends that were, 
 
 What shallow waves divide! 
 I miss the form for many a year 
 
 Still seated at my side. 
 
 I miss him, yet I feel him still 
 
 Amidst our faithful band, 
 As if not death itself could chill 
 
 The warmth of friendship's hand. 
 
 His story other lips may tell, 
 
 For me the veil is drawn; 
 I only know he loved me well, 
 
 He loved me and is gone ! 
 
 o. w. ii.
 
 64 |OKiS VN I. mi MS OK 
 
 VOYAGE OF THE GOOD SHIP UNK'N 
 
 EMd M the CUM llMtloc. Jtmi7. 1M1 
 
 T is iniilni-lit : through my troubled dream 
 
 Loiul wails the tempest's cry ; 
 Before the gale with tattered sail, 
 
 A ship goes plunging by. 
 What name.' Where bound? The rocks around 
 
 Repeat the loud halloo. 
 
 The good ship Union, Southward bound: 
 God help her and her crew! 
 
 And is the old flag flying still 
 
 That o'er your fathers flew, 
 With bands of white and rosy light, 
 
 And field of starry bluef 
 
 Ay! look aloft! its folds full oft 
 Have braved the roaring blast, 
 
 And still shall fly when from the sky 
 This black typhoon has past ! 
 
 Speak, pilot of the storm-tost hark ! 
 May I thy peril share t 
 
 landsman, these an- fearful 
 The brave alone may dare ! 
 
 Nay, ruler of tin- rebel deep. 
 What matters wind or wave? 
 
 The rocks that \\reek your reeling deck 
 Will leave me nought to save!
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. 65 
 
 landsman, art thou false or true? 
 What sign has thou to show? 
 
 The crimson stains from loyal veins 
 That hold my heart-blood's flow ! 
 
 Enough ! what more shall honor claim ? 
 I know the sacred sign; 
 
 Above thy head our flag shall spread, 
 Our ocean path be thine ! 
 
 The bark sails on; the Pilgrim's Cape 
 
 Lies low along her lee, 
 Whose headland crooks its anchor-flukes 
 
 To lock the shore and sea. 
 No treason here ! it cost too dear 
 
 To win this barren realm ! 
 And true and free the hands must be 
 
 That hold the whaler's helm! 
 
 Still on ! Manhattan's narrowing bay 
 
 No Rebel cruiser scars; 
 Her waters feel no pirate's keel 
 
 That flaunts the falling stars ! 
 
 But watch the light on yonder height, 
 Ay, pilot, have a care ! 
 
 Some lingering cloud in mist may shroud 
 The Capes of Delaware ! 
 
 Say, pilot, what this fort may be, 
 
 Whose sentinels look down 
 From moated walls that show the sea 
 
 Their deep embrasures' frown? 
 
 G*
 
 SONUS AND POEMS OP 
 
 The Relx'1 host claims all the coast, 
 
 But these are friends, we know, 
 Whose footprints spoil the "sacred soil," 
 
 And this is T Fort Monroe ! 
 
 The breakers roar, how ln-an* the shore f 
 
 The traitorous wreckers' hands 
 Have quenched the blaze that poured its rays 
 
 Along the Hattcras sands. 
 Ha ! say not so ! I see its glow ! 
 
 Again the shoals display 
 The beacon light that shines by night, 
 
 The Union Stars by day ! 
 
 The good ship flies to milder skies, 
 
 The wave more gently flows, 
 The softening breeze wafts o'er the seas 
 
 The breath of Beaufort's rose. 
 What fold is this the sweet winds kiss, 
 
 Fair-striped and many-starred, 
 Whose shadow palls these orphaned walls, 
 
 The twins of Beauregard f 
 
 What ! heard you not Port Royal's doom t 
 
 How the black war-ships came 
 And turned the Beaufort roses' bloom 
 
 To redder wreaths of flame f 
 How from Rebellion's broken reed 
 
 We saw his emblem fall, 
 As soon his cursed poisnn-wi-ed 
 
 Shall drop from Sumter's wall *
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 67 
 
 On ! on ! Pulaski's iron hail 
 
 Falls harmless on Tybee ! 
 Her topsails feel the freshening gale. 
 
 She strikes the open sea; 
 She rounds the point, she threads the keys, 
 
 That guard the Land of Flowers, 
 And rides at last where firm and fast 
 
 Her own Gibraltar towers ! 
 
 The good ship Union's voyage is o'er, 
 
 At anchor safe she swings, 
 And loud and clear with cheer on cheer 
 
 Her joyous welcome rings : 
 Hurrah ! Hurrah ! it shakes the wave, 
 
 It thunders on the shore, 
 One flag, one land, one heart, one hand, 
 
 One Nation, evermore ! 
 
 o. w. ir. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 For the Meeting of January, 1882. 
 
 AIR "Believe me if all," rfc. 
 
 Here's a welcome dear friends who have gathered to-day 
 
 From your pathways of joy or of tears, 
 To look back to youth's fairy-land, far, far away, 
 
 And re-live in the long vanished years.
 
 68 80NO3 AND POEMS OF 
 
 \~ ... more from ilurk tli..m\ -Im-. \v.-;iry an<l \\nrn. 
 
 We ascend to the broad sunny plain, 
 Lo, the far distant crests which we climbed in the morn 
 He-appear in their glory again. 
 
 While the fresh fragrant gales from those highlands so blue 
 
 On our throbbing brows gratefully play, 
 And we greet you old comrades warmhearted and true, 
 
 All life's turmoil and strife die away. 
 
 Ah, more bright for the thought that we too have a share, 
 
 Shall your sunlight of happiness fall, 
 And less heavy your burdens of sorrow and care 
 
 As you feel they are borne by us all. 
 
 O let all that was selfish or cold in the past 
 
 Be redeemed by a kindly regret, 
 And its cheer and its fervor unchangingly IHM. 
 
 Well remember, ah yes, and 
 
 And when all this re-union's glad hours have flown, 
 
 To the next be their memory borne, 
 As where glows the long day of the far northern 
 
 Summer twilight. is merged in the dawn. 
 
 B. P. w.
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 69 
 
 " CHOOSE YOU THIS DAY WHOM YE 
 WILL SERVE." 
 
 Read at the Class Meeting, January 8, 1863. 
 
 YES, tyrants, you hate us, and fear while you hate 
 The self-ruling, chain-breaking, throne-shaking State ! 
 The night-birds dread morning, your instinct is true, 
 The day-star of Freedom brings midnight for you ! 
 
 Why plead with the deaf for the cause of mankind? 
 The owl hoots at noon that the eagle is blind ! 
 We ask not your reasons, 't were wasting our time, 
 Our life is a menace, our welfare a crime ! 
 
 We have battles to fight, we have foes to subdue, 
 Time waits not for us, and we wait not for you! 
 The mower mows on, though the adder may writhe 
 And the copper-head coil round the blade of his scythe ! 
 
 "No sides in this quarrel," your statesman may urge, 
 Of school-house and wages with slave-pen and scourge ! 
 No sides in the quarrel ! proclaim it as well 
 To the angels that fight with the legions of hell ! 
 
 They kneel in God's temple, the North and the South, 
 With blood on each weapon and prayers in each mouth. 
 Whose cry shall be answered? Ye Heavens, attend 
 The lords of the lash as their voices ascend !
 
 70 80X08 .AND POEMS OF 
 
 " O Lord, we are shaped in the image of Thee, 
 Smite down the base millions that claim to be free, 
 And lend Thy strong arm to the soft-handed race 
 Who eat tiot their bread in the sweat of their face ! " 
 
 So pleads the proud planter. What echoes are then? 
 The bay of his bloodhound is borne on the breeze, 
 And, lost in the shriek of his victim's despair, 
 His voice dies unheard. Hear the Puritan's prayer! 
 
 "0 Lord, that didst smother mankind in Thy flood, 
 The sun is as sackcloth, the moon is as blood, 
 The stars fall to earth as untimely are cast 
 The figs from the fig-tree that shakes in the blast! 
 
 "All nations, all tribes in whose nostrils is breath, 
 Stand gazing at Sin as she travails with Death ! 
 Lord, strangle the monster that struggles to birth, 
 Or mock us no more with Thy ' Kingdom on Earth ! ' 
 
 If Ammon and Moab must reign in the lund 
 Thou gavest Thine Israel, fresh from Thy hand, 
 Call Baal and Ashtaroth out of their graves 
 To be the new gods for the empire of slaves ! n 
 
 Whose God will ye serve, ye rulers of men ? 
 
 Will ye build you new shrines in the slave-breeder's den ? 
 
 Or bow with the children of light, as they call 
 
 On the Judge of the Earth and the Father of All ?
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 71 
 
 Choose wisely, choose quickly, for time moves apace, 
 Each day is an age in the life of our race ! 
 Lord, lead them in love, ere they hasten hi fear 
 From the fast-rising flood that shall girdle the sphere ! 
 
 o. w. H. 
 
 HARVARD'S DEAD. 
 
 Written for the Class Meeting, January 8, 1863. 
 
 They fought on many a crimsoned field, 
 
 They sleep in many a glen; 
 They marched to glory and to death 
 
 And came not home again ; 
 But Harvard claims them for her roll 
 
 Her roll of honored men. 
 
 Some in the sunny days of youth, 
 
 And some in ripening age, 
 Went forth, with valiant hearts and hopes, 
 
 To breast the conflict's rage; 
 And history every name records 
 
 On her immortal page. 
 
 Weep at the shrines where once they knelt, 
 And where the heroes sleep;
 
 72 - N - \ \ ] ! : - i 
 
 Weep where the funeral pomp proceeds, 
 
 At vacant firesides weep. 
 When did thy sickle, mighty death, 
 
 So precious harvests reap f 
 
 And sing a paean o'er their dust, 
 
 A requiem for the brave; 
 Sing hymns of cheerful melody 
 
 Above each soldier's grave; 
 In solemn joy with festal folds 
 
 Let the old banners wave. 
 
 Freedom on every bloody field 
 
 Has some new triumph won; 
 Iler honored wreaths are on the brow 
 
 Of every favorite son ; 
 And time is reckoned, not by years, 
 
 But deeds of valor done. 
 
 While Fame inscribes ten thousand names, 
 
 Along her pillared nave. 
 Of patriot sons and sires who sleep 
 
 In glory's star-gemmed grave, 
 Of all the list fair Harvard claims 
 
 The bravest of the brave. 
 
 S. F. S.
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. 73 
 
 OUR CLASSMATE, F. W. C. 
 
 Written for the Class Meeting, January 7, 1864. 
 
 Fast as the rolling seasons bring 
 
 The hour of fate to those we love, 
 Each pearl that leaves the hroken string 
 
 Is set in Friendship's crown above. 
 As narrower grows the earthly chain, 
 
 The circle widens in the sky ; 
 These are our treasures that remain, 
 
 But those are stars that beam on high. 
 
 We miss oh, how we miss! his face, 
 
 With trembling accents speak his name. 
 Earth cannot fill his shadowed place 
 
 From all her rolls of pride and fame; 
 Our song has lost the silvery thread 
 
 That carolled through his jocund lips ; 
 Our laugh is mute, our smile is fled, 
 
 And all our sunshine in eclipse. 
 
 And what and whence the wondrous charm 
 
 That kept his manhood boy-like still, 
 That life's hard censors could disarm 
 
 And lead them captive at his will? 
 His heart was shaped of rosier clay, 
 
 His veins were filled with ruddier fire, 
 Time could not chill him, fortune sway, 
 
 Nor toil with all its burdens tire.
 
 74 BONOS AMD rOEMS OF 
 
 His speech burst throbbing from iis fount 
 
 And sot our colder thoughts aglow, 
 As the hot leaping geysers mount 
 
 And fulling melt the Iceland snow. 
 Some word, ]H>irhance, we counted rush, 
 
 Some phrase our calmness might disclaim, 
 Yet 'twas the sunset lightnings flush, 
 
 No angry bolt, but harmless flume. 
 
 Man judges all, God knowcth each : 
 
 We read the rule, He sees the law; 
 How oft His luughing children teach 
 
 The truths His prophets never saw! 
 friend, whose wisdom flowered in mirth! 
 
 Our hearts are sad, our eyes ure dim ; 
 He gave thy smiles to brighten earth, 
 
 We trust thy joyous soul to Him ! 
 
 Alas! our weakness Heaven forgive! 
 
 We murmur, even while we trust, 
 " How long earth's breathing burdens live, 
 
 Whose hearts, before they die, are dust ! '' 
 But thou ! through grief's untimely tears 
 
 We ask with half-repniaehful sigh 
 "Couldst thou not watch a few brief years 
 
 Till Friendship faltered, 'Thou mayst diet'" 
 
 Who loved our boyish years so well ? 
 
 Who knew so well their pleasant tales. 
 And all those livelier freaks euuld tell 
 
 Whose oft-told story never fails T
 
 THE CLASS OP '29. 75 
 
 In . vain we turn our aching eyes, 
 In vain we stretch our eager hands, 
 
 Cold in his wintry shroud he lies 
 Beneath the dreary drifting sands ! 
 
 Ah, speak not thus ! He lies not there ! 
 
 We see him, hear him as of old ! 
 He comes ! he claims his wonted chair ; 
 
 His beaming face we still behold ! 
 His voice rings clear in all our songs, 
 
 And loud his mirthful accents rise; 
 To us our brother's life belongs, 
 
 Dear boys, a classmate never dies ! 
 
 o. w. H. 
 
 IN MEMOEIAM, F. W. CROCKER. 
 
 Written for the Class Meeting, January, 1864. 
 
 A weight is on the air our lamps bum dim, 
 Ah, vain to shun this sorrow dull and sore, 
 
 And, still refusing credence, watch for him 
 Who comes to us no more. 
 
 Ye, honored, prospered, shall recount his worth, 
 For your fair present stills this aching pain; 
 
 Speak ye of him, whose sunny smile on earth 
 Shall never beam again.
 
 ~. ' lONGS AND POEMS OF 
 
 For us fur gazing from our darkened ways 
 
 Where, dim and low, our morning's summits rise, 
 
 For whom the fellowship of other days 
 Lit up his kindly eyes, 
 
 Mid drifting mists, the soft blue haze has gone 
 Wrapped in their shroud ; and silent, wan as they, 
 
 Our long delight, that genial life, is borne 
 To memory's realm away. 
 
 Our boyhood's charm, our manhood's steadfast friend, 
 Frank, manly, true, warmhearted to the last, 
 
 Who, more than he, so loyally could blend 
 Our present and our past? 
 
 Not ours to praise; we only keenly feel 
 A brother's heart lies cold beneath its pall, 
 
 A generous love has passed, that firm as steel 
 Linked and embraced us, all. 
 
 Was it for nought? our yearnings answer No, 
 
 All of his best shall meet our best again ; 
 For He who kindles each unselfish glow 
 
 Inflamed not this in vain. 
 
 B. P. w.
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 77 
 
 THE LAST CHARGE. 
 
 Read at the Class Meeting, January 8, 1884. 
 
 Now, men of the North ! will you join in the strife 
 For country, for freedom, for honor, for life? 
 The giant grows blind in his fury and spite, 
 One blow on his forehead will settle the fight ! 
 
 Flash full in his eyes the blue lightning of steel, 
 And stun him with cannon-bolts, peal upon peal ! 
 Mount, troopers, and follow your game to its lair, 
 As the hound tracks the wolf and the beagle the hare ! 
 
 Blow, trumpets, your summons, till sluggards awake ! 
 Beat, drums, till the roofs of the faint-hearted shake ! 
 Yet, yet, ere the signet is stamped on the scroll, 
 Their names may be traced on the blood-sprinkled roll ! 
 
 Trust not the false herald that painted your shield: 
 True honor to-day must be sought on the field ! 
 Her scutcheon shows white with a blazon of red, 
 The life-drops of crimson for liberty shed! 
 
 The hour is at hand, and the moment draws nigh ! 
 The dog-star of treason grows dim in the sky ! 
 Shine forth from the battle-cloud, light of the morn, 
 Call back the bright hour when the Nation was born!
 
 SONGS AND POEMS OF 
 
 The rivers of peaee through our valleys shall run, 
 
 As the glaeiers of tyranny melt in the sun; 
 
 Smite, smite the proud parricide down from his throne, 
 
 His sceptre once broken, the world is our own! 
 
 o. w. H. 
 
 i. i N i: s. 
 
 WillUn f..r the CUM Mi-rUng, J.nu.ry 7, 1804. 
 
 Still o'er the mountain gray 
 Lingers the coming day, 
 
 Still waits the hour, 
 The hour when man shall feel 
 No more the oppressor's heel, 
 And God at last reveal 
 
 His kingly power. 
 
 But wake from troubled dreams; 
 Yonder the blushing beams, 
 
 Fringe the dull sky; 
 The reddening arch is Iwwed, 
 Light glimmers through the cloud, 
 Piercing the gloomy shroud, 
 
 The shadows fly. 
 
 No reef of sunken rock 
 Shall strike with deadly 
 The ship of state :
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 79 
 
 God's mighty power controls 
 Each tossing wave that rolls ; 
 Quicksands are his, and shoals, 
 Vessel and freight. 
 
 Then boldly meet the gale, 
 Steady each rope and sail, 
 
 Breast the fierce wave ; 
 Fear not the whirlwind's power, 
 Fear not the storms that lower; 
 God rules the darkest hour, 
 
 Mighty to save. 
 
 He, when our fathers stood 
 On fields of strife and blood, 
 
 Gave help and light; 
 The rod of terror broke, 
 Snapped the oppressor's yoke, 
 New hope and joy awoke, 
 
 Brought day from night. 
 
 He will the sons defend, 
 He will deliverance send, 
 
 Our Rock, our Tower; 
 His arm supports the state, 
 His help comes never late; 
 Have faith to work and wait 
 
 Salvation's hour.
 
 AON US AND POEMS OF 
 
 llring out the treasures then 
 Treasures of wealth and men '. 
 
 Stand for the la\v- : 
 Stand up, a willing band, 
 Finn in your valor stand ; 
 I'phold with heart and hand 
 
 Jehovah's cause. 
 
 Then shall a holy light 
 Gleam on the breast of night, 
 
 The war-cloud riven; 
 Lost not one star or line, 
 In majesty divine 
 The galaxy shall shine 
 
 Full in mid-heaven. 
 
 s. F. s. 
 
 OUR OLDEST FRIEND. 
 
 to -TIM Beyi of ," J*wury , U85. 
 
 I give you the health of the oldest friend 
 That, short of eternity, earth e;m lend. 
 A friend so faithful ;md tried and true 
 That nothing can wean him from me and you.
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 81 
 
 When first we screeched in the sudden blaze 
 Of the daylight's blinding and blasting rays, 
 And gulped at the gaseous, groggy air, 
 This old, old friend stood waiting there. 
 
 And when, with a kind of mortal strife, 
 We had gasped and choked into breathing life, 
 He watched by the cradle, day and night, 
 And held our hands till we stood upright. 
 
 From gristle and pulp our frames have grown 
 To stringy muscle and solid bone; 
 While we were changing, he altered not; 
 We might forget, but he never forgot. 
 
 He came with us to the college class, 
 Little cared he for the steward's pass ! 
 All the rest must pay their fee, 
 But the grim old dead-head 'entered free. 
 
 He stayed with us while we counted o'er 
 Four times each of the seasons four; 
 And with every season, from year to year, 
 The dear name Classmate he made more dear. 
 
 He never leaves us, he never will, 
 Till our hands are cold and our hearts are still ; 
 On birthdays, and Christmas, and New- Year's too, 
 He always remembers both me and you.
 
 SONOS AND POEMS OF 
 
 Every year this faithful friend 
 
 His little present is sure to send; 
 
 Every year, wheresoe'er we be, 
 
 He wants a keepsake from you and me. 
 
 How he loves us! he pats our heads, 
 And, lo! they are gleaming with silver threads; 
 And he 's always begging one lock of hair, 
 Till our shining crowns have nothing to wear. 
 
 At length he will tell us, one by one, 
 "My child, your labor on earth is done; 
 And now you must journey afar to see 
 My elder brother, Eternity !" 
 
 And so, when long, long years have passed, 
 Some dear old fellow will be the last, 
 Never a boy alive but he 
 Of all our goodly company ! 
 
 When he lies down, but not till then, 
 Our kind Class-Angel will (Imp the pen 
 That writes in the day-hunk kept above 
 Our lifelong record of faith and love. 
 
 So here 's a health in homely rhyme 
 
 To our oldest rlasMiiatr. Father Time! 
 
 May our last survivor live to be 
 
 As bald and as wise and as tough as he! 
 
 o. w. H.
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. .83 
 
 SHERMAN'S IN SAVANNAH! 
 
 Written for Class Meeting, January, 1865. 
 
 Like the tribes of Israel, 
 
 Fed ou quails and manna, 
 Sherman and his glorious band 
 Journeyed through the rebel land, 
 Fed from Heaven's all-bounteous hand, 
 
 Marching on Savannah ! 
 
 As the moving pillar shone, 
 
 Streamed the starry banner 
 All day long in rosy light, 
 Flaming glory all the night, 
 Till it swooped in eagle flight 
 
 Down on doomed Savannah! 
 
 Glory be to God on high ! 
 
 Shout the loud Hosanua! 
 Treason's wilderness is past, 
 Canaan's shore is won at last, 
 Peal a nation's trumpet blast, 
 
 Sherman's in Savannah ! 
 
 Soon, shall Richmond's tough old hide 
 
 Find a tough old tanner! 
 Soon from every rebel wall 
 Shall the rag of treason fall, 
 Till our banner flaps o'er all 
 
 As it crowns Savannah! 
 
 O. W. H.
 
 M SONUS AND POEMS OP 
 
 MY ANNUAL. FOR THE "BOYS OP 
 
 At Annul llMlluf, J.nmry 4, I860. 
 
 How long will this harp which you once loved to hear 
 ( 'heat your lips of a smile or your eyes of a tear ? 
 How long stir the echoes it wakened of old, 
 While its strings were unbroken, untarnished its gold? 
 
 Dear friends of my boyhood, my words do you wrong ; 
 The heart, the heart only, shall throb in my song; 
 It reads the kind answer that looks from your eyes, 
 "We will bid our old harper play on till he dies." 
 
 Though Youth, the fair angel that looked o'er the strings, 
 Has lost the bright glory that gleamed on his wings, 
 Though the freshness of morning has passed from \i tone, 
 It is still the old harp that was always your own. 
 
 I claim not its music, each note it affords 
 
 I strike from your heart-strings, tliat It-no! me its chords; 
 
 I know you will listen and love to tin- last, 
 
 For it trembles and thrills \vitli the voice of your jia>i. 
 
 Ah, brothers! dear brothers! the harp that I hold 
 No craftsman could string and no artisan mould; 
 He shaped it, H<- strung it, who fashioned the lyres 
 That ring with tin- hymns of tin- seraphim choirs.
 
 THECLASSOF'29. 85 
 
 Not mine are the visions of beauty it brings, 
 Not mine the faint fragrance around it that clings; 
 Those shapes are the phantoms of years that are fled, 
 Those sweets breathe from roses your summers have shed. 
 
 Each hour of the past lends its tribute to this, 
 Till it blooms like a bower in the Garden of Bliss; 
 The thorn and the thistle may grow as they will, 
 "Where Friendship unfolds there is Paradise still. 
 
 The bird wanders careless while summer is green, 
 The leaf-hidden cradle that rocked him unseen; 
 When 'Autumn's rude fingers the woods have undressed, 
 The boughs may look bare, but they show him his nest. 
 
 Too precious these moments ! the lustre they fling 
 Is the light of our year, is the gem of its ring, 
 So brimming with sunshine, we almost forget 
 The rays it has lost, and its border of jet. 
 
 While round us the many-hued halo is shed, 
 How dear are the living, how near are the dead! 
 One circle, scarce broken, these waiting below, 
 Those walking the shores where the asphodels blow! 
 
 Not life shall enlarge it nor death shall divide, 
 No brother new-born finds his place at my side; 
 No titles shall freeze us, no grandeurs infest, 
 His Honor, His Worship, are boys like the rest.
 
 80X03 AND POEMS OF 
 
 Some won the world's homage, tlieir names we hold dear, 
 But Friendship, not Fame, is the countersign here; 
 Make room by the conqueror crowned in the strife 
 For the comrade that limps from the battle of life! 
 
 What tongue talks of battle I Too long we have heard 
 
 In sorrow, in anguish, that terrible word; 
 
 It reddened the sunshine, it crimsoned the wave, 
 
 It sprinkled our doors with the blood of our brave. 
 
 Peace, Peace comes at last, with her garland of white; 
 Peace broods in all hearts as we gather to-night; 
 The blazon of Union spreads full in the sun; 
 We echo its words, We are one! We are one! 
 
 o. w. H. 
 
 OUR INDIAN SUMMER. 
 
 K*d at the CUv Me<lnf , January 4, 1808. 
 
 Summer has gone a Queen with all her train, 
 Gone with her King, the Sun, to keep Ilieir state 
 In old Peru, and by the silver stream. 
 Her noble ladies all have followed her 
 Sweet-Pea and Tulip, Aster, Balsam, I 'ink. 
 And all the garden-palaces of f1o\vrr>. 
 Wide borders and large ovals, stand forlorn,
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 87 
 
 Like gay saloons deserted and unswept. 
 The gentle fruits, of old ancestral line, 
 The great Kose-family, the Persic peach, 
 Or Spanish melon, like a rich grandee, 
 These, her high officers of State, have left ; 
 And all the myriad multitude of leaves, 
 (As tradesmen in attendance on the Queen,) 
 Their living gone, disperse; and yield the trees 
 With moaning branches to October winds, 
 (Poor workfolk, and last followers of the court,) 
 Busy to sweep the refuse rubbish up. 
 
 But lo ! her Majesty has changed her mind ! 
 Our lady Queen, sweet Summer, has returned 
 To hold a later session of her court, 
 Less brilliant now, but tenderer and more pure. 
 From the southwestern sky, all night and day 
 The steady breeze sweeps soft the purple air 
 Is full of lazy hazy misty light. 
 The sunshine kisses every loitering leaf 
 Which kisses back again with crimson lips. 
 What wonder that the Indian's lonely soul, 
 Feeling for God and immortality, 
 Heard all his fathers speaking in this wind, 
 And caught some glimpses in the ominous sky 
 Of hunting-fields within the Spirit-land ? 
 For we, too, hear these whispered messages, 
 Faint, inarticulate murmurs in the air, 
 Whose waves swell softly, softly lapse away,
 
 BONOS AND POEMS OP 
 
 Till once again the living silence falls 
 On purple sky and sun-i>ervaded earth. 
 
 So in this colder Autumn of our life 
 Some Indian Summer drops a sunny hour. 
 Our hearts go back to all their boyish thoughts, 
 Our faces take again the boyish look; 
 Old faces, hardened in the chill of time, 
 Stern faces, set for conflict with the world; 
 Brows, written full of records, whose deep lines 
 Tell of long years of struggle,- daring hopes, 
 High expectation, failure, and success; 
 The desperate single-handed strife for bread; 
 The disillusions of a cheat ed heart : 
 Eyes, which have looked upon a cold dead fan-. 
 In which died all that loved us in this world ; 
 Ambition, struggling to its weary goal, 
 Winning its wreath, and asking "Is this allf" 
 But now, these frosty lines dissolve away; 
 These records, bit as with a graver's tool 
 In lapidary letters on a tomb, 
 Melt into freedom, friendship. ho|>e, and love. 
 Illumined by sweet memories of youth. 
 -The sun stands still in CiU-on for an hour; 
 And all the evening shadow of our age 
 * Goes back upon the Dial, ten degrees. 
 
 Love is the Indian Summer in our life. 
 It brings the softest sunshine of the year. 
 Whether awaking, in a father's heart,
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. 89 
 
 For babe with wondering eyes and rosy feet; 
 
 Or from frank pressure of the friendly hand 
 
 Which has not failed us during thirty years. 
 
 New love in age makes all things young and new. 
 
 The passionate, wild fancies of the past 
 
 Pale in the charm of each late day of love 
 
 "Which hangs our age with blossoms out of youth 
 
 As the old olives on Italian shores, 
 
 Gnarled, weird, and withered, every spring become 
 
 As little children, in their silvery leaves. 
 
 So when they ask us Boys of '29 
 
 How we keep up this boyhood, keep away 
 
 The tooth of care, and hold a constant youth 
 
 Youth of the mind and heart, mid growing years 
 
 Tell them we have not drank of Leon's fount; 
 
 But once a year, at this our annual feast, 
 
 Meet our Medea, (whom we call Old Times,) 
 
 Are cut in pieces, in her caldron boiled, 
 
 And, all made over, go out young again. 
 
 And tell them, mid gray hair and wintry years 
 
 We keep an Indian Summer here of joy, 
 
 A baby-summer, pressed to Autumn's heart. 
 
 j. F. o.
 
 SONGS AND POEMS OP 
 
 A L L H E I! I . 
 
 1829-1SG7. 
 
 Written fvr the Clw MUn. J.nnnry H), IM7. 
 
 It is nut what we say or sing, 
 
 That keeps our chann so long unbroken, 
 Though every lightest leaf we bring 
 
 May touch the heart as friendship'* token ; 
 Not what we sing or what we say 
 
 Can make us dearer each to other 
 We love the singer and his lay. 
 
 But love as well the silent brother! 
 
 Yet bring whate'er your garden grows. 
 
 Thrice welcome to our smiles and praises : 
 Thanks for the myrtle and the rose, 
 
 Thanks for the marigolds and daisies; 
 One flower erelong we all shall claim, 
 
 Alas! unloved of Amaryllis 
 Nature's last blossom need I name 
 
 The wreath of threeseore's silver lilies! 
 
 How many, brothers, meet tonight 
 Around our lx>y hood's covered embers! 
 
 Go read the treasured names aright 
 The old triennial list remembers:
 
 THE CLASS OF '2 9. 91 
 
 Though twenty wear the starry sign 
 That tells a life has broke its tether, 
 
 The fifty-eight of twenty -nine 
 
 God bless THE BOYS! are all together! 
 
 These come with joyous look and word, 
 
 "With friendly grasp and cheerful greeting 
 Those smile unseen, and move unheard, 
 
 The angel guests of every meeting; 
 They cast no shadow in the flame 
 
 That flushes from the gilded lustre, 
 But count us we are still the same ; 
 
 One earthly band, one heavenly cluster! 
 
 Love dies not when he bows his head 
 
 To pass beyond the narrow portals 
 The light these glowing moments shed 
 
 Wakes from their sleep our lost immortals; 
 They come as in their joyous prime, 
 
 Before their morning days were numbered 
 Death stays the envious hand of Time 
 
 The eyes have not grown dim that" slumbered! 
 
 The paths that loving souls have trod 
 
 Arch o'er the dust where worldlings grovel 
 High as the zenith o'er the sod 
 
 The cross above the Sexton's shovel ! 
 We rise beyond the realms of day ; 
 
 They seem to stoop from spheres of glory 
 With us one happy hour to stray, 
 
 While youth comes back in song and story.
 
 92 - N -. > \ \ I- rl MS ..! 
 
 Ah! ours is friendship true &s steel 
 
 That war has tried in edge and temper; 
 It writes upon its sacred seal 
 
 The priest's ubiquc omncs semper! 
 It lends the sky a fairer sun 
 
 That cheers our lives with rays as steady 
 As if our footsteps had begun 
 
 To print the golden streets already ! 
 
 The tangling years have clenched its knot 
 
 Too fast for mortal strength to sunder 
 The lightning bolts of noon are shot 
 
 No fear of evening's idle thunder! 
 Too late ! too late ! no graceless hand 
 
 Shall stretch its cords in vain endeavor 
 To rive the close encircling band 
 
 That made and keeps us one forever! 
 
 So when upon the fated scroll 
 
 The falling stare have all descended, 
 And, blotted from the breathing mil, 
 
 Our little page of life is ended, 
 We ask but one memorial line 
 
 Traced on thy tablet, Gracious Mother: 
 " My chUdren. Boys of '29. 
 
 In pace. How they loved each other ! " 
 
 o. w. ii.
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 93 
 
 A RIFT IN THE AFTERNOON CLOUDS. 
 
 Written for the Class Meeting, January 10, 18G7. 
 
 When, in our homes, sweet voice and dainty feet 
 And snatch of song no longer chase the gloom, 
 
 But day by day the clock's relentless beat 
 Wearies our silent room; 
 
 When ask no more young bearers of our name 
 Our watch and ward of sacred trusts to share, 
 
 Theirs, u Love's bright dream," or lures of Wealth or Fame, 
 And ours, unlightened care; 
 
 Then seems this busy scene of much ado, 
 An empty show, of aspect grey and cold, 
 
 And all its fevered quest of strange and new 
 Worthless beside the old. 
 
 Seek we for friends! Upon its restless seas 
 The crossing barques a moment back the sail, 
 
 The next, far parted by the rising breeze, 
 Each, lonely, breasts the gale. 
 
 Its gnawing greeds that fain would hide, below 
 A proud cold port, their all consuming flame, 
 
 Like Hecla's fires beneath her wastes of snow, 
 Leave friendship but a name.
 
 94 lON'is AM> 1-. : 
 
 Dead hopes are strewn as thick as Autumn leaves, 
 From gloomy skies misfortune's blasts sweep chill, 
 
 Sharp malice stings and cunning craft deceives 
 Till the poor heart lies still. 
 
 Then hrief surprise, half feigned when hangs unfurled 
 Death's sable pennon at our silent door, 
 
 One day of pause and all our little world 
 Is eager as before. 
 
 But now, once more, like the sweet Air Harp, swelling 
 Its fitful plaints to chords almost divine, 
 
 The dear old thoughts, deep in our bosoms dwelling, 
 Gush forth as Memory whispers "TwK.VTY-XiXE." 
 
 mates who climbed in boyhood's morn 
 
 Yon far horizon range, 
 For us so toil and travail worn, 
 
 It mocks at chance and change. 
 
 When rest the weary hand and brain, 
 Your well-known voices wake, 
 
 And course old laughing hours again 
 As ripples on the lake. 
 
 Beneath each thoughtful care-worn face, 
 Quick falcon glances sleep; 
 Below the grave and measured ; 
 The greyhound's bounding leap.
 
 THECLASSOF'29. 95 
 
 Through bronze of time and scar of strife 
 
 Our eyes can see the glow 
 That shone around our common life, 
 
 In years, long, long ago. 
 
 Your fame, your cheer, your anguished breast, 
 
 Each brother counts his own, 
 None of our dead forgotten rest, 
 
 None, living, hide unknown. 
 
 Forgotten? Spring anew may deck 
 
 The sapling tempest-marred; 
 The Oak, whose limb the whirlwinds wreck, 
 
 Kemains forever scarred. 
 
 Though thinned its leafy coronet, - 
 
 And youth and grace depart, 
 The stalwart branches firmly yet 
 
 Cling round the changeless heart. 
 
 Who then will kindly word or deed 
 
 From one of these withhold, 
 In whose glad greeting eyes we read 
 
 The fellowship of old? 
 
 B. P. W.
 
 v,,\ ,. S V MI I'MCMS Ol 
 
 ONCE MORE. 
 
 Written tat ih flu* llwtlnr, January, 1888. 
 
 Cndi*cipuU*, Cutetnnttt, Ifirvanlining, Amicin. 
 
 " IK/// / comef" That w pleasant! I bog to inquire 
 If the gun that I carry has ever missed fire? 
 Ami which was the muster-roll mention but one 
 That missed your old comrade who carries the gun T 
 
 You see me as always, my hand on the lock, 
 The cap on the nipple, the hammer full cock. 
 It is rusty, some tell me; I heed not the scoff; 
 It is battered and bruised, but it always goes off! 
 
 -"Is it loaded?" Ill bet you! What does n't it hold T 
 Rammed full to the muzzle with memories untold; 
 Why, it scares me to fire, lest the pieces should fly 
 Like the cannons that burst on the Fourth of July ! 
 
 One charge is a remnant of College-day dreams 
 (Its wadding is made of forcnsics and themes) ; 
 Ah, visions of fame! what a flash in the pan 
 As the trigger was pulled by each clever young man ! 
 
 And love! Bless my stare, what a cartridge is there! 
 With a wadding of rose-leaves and ribbons and hair,
 
 THECLASSOF'29. 97 
 
 All crammed in one verse to go off at a shot ! 
 "Were there ever such sweethearts? Of course there 
 were not! 
 
 And next, what a load! it will split the old gun, 
 Three fingers, four fingers, five fingers of fun! 
 Come tell me, gray sages, for mischief and noise 
 Was there ever a lot like us fellows, The Boys? 
 
 Bump ! bump ! down the staircase the cannon ball goes, 
 Aha, Old Professor! Look out for your toes! 
 Don't think, my poor Tutor, to sleep in your bed, 
 Two "Boys" 'twenty-niners room over your head! 
 
 Remember the nights when the tar-barrel blazed! 
 From red "Massachusetts" the war-cry was raised; 
 And " Hollis " and " Stoughton " reechoed the call ; 
 Till P poked his head out of Hoi worthy Hall! 
 
 Old P , as we called him, at fifty or so, 
 
 Not exactly a bud, but not quite in full blow; 
 In ripening manhood, suppose we should say, 
 Just nearing his prime, as we boys are to-day ! 
 
 0, say, can you look through the vista of age 
 To the time when old Morse drove the regular stage? 
 When Lyon told tales of the long-vanished years, 
 And Lenox crept round with the rings in his ears?
 
 SONUS AMD POEMS OF 
 
 Anil dost thou, my brother, remember indeed 
 The days of our dealings with Willard and Read? 
 .When "Dolly" was kicking and running away, 
 And punch came up smoking on Fillebrown's tray? 
 
 But where are the Tutors, my brother, tell! 
 And where the Professors, remembered so well? 
 The sturdy old Grecian of Hoi worthy Hull, 
 And Latin, and Jx>gic, and Hebrew and all? 
 
 " They are dead, the old fellows" (we called them so then, 
 Though we since have found out they were lusty young 
 men.) 
 
 They are dead, do you tell me? but how do you know? 
 You've filled once too often. I doubt if it's so. 
 
 I'm thinking. I'm thinking. Is this 'sixty-eight? 
 It's not quite so clear. It admits of debate. 
 I may have been dreaming. I rather incline 
 To think yes, I'm certain it is 'twenty-nine! 
 
 "By George!" as friend Sales is accustomed to cry, 
 You tell me they're dead, but I know it's a lie! 
 
 Is Jackson not President? What was't you said? . 
 
 It can't be ; you 're joking ; what, all of 'em dead ? 
 
 Jim, Harry, Fred, Isaac, all gone from our side? 
 They couldn't have left us, no, not if they tried. 
 
 Look, there's our old Prases. he can't find his text; 
 See, P rubs his leg, as he growls out, " Tin ><> / .' "
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 99 
 
 I told you 't was nonsense. Joe, give us a song ! 
 Go harness up " Dolly/' and fetch her along ! 
 Dead ! Dead ! You false graybeard, I swear they are not i 
 Hurrah for Old Hickory ! 0, I forgot ! 
 
 Well, one we have with us (how could he contrive 
 To deal with us youngsters and still to survive?) 
 Who wore for our guidance authority's robe, 
 No wonder he took to the study of Job ! 
 
 And now as my load was uncommonly large, 
 Let me taper it off with a classical charge; 
 When that has gone off, I shall drop my old gun 
 And then stand at ease, for my service is done. 
 
 B'ibamws ad Clapsem vocatam " The Boys " 
 Et eorum Tutorem cui nomen est " Noyes ; " 
 Et floreantj valcant, vigeant tarn, 
 Non Peircius ipse enwmeret quam ! 
 
 O. W. H.
 
 100 lONtiS V Ml l'(.] MS 
 
 SIBYLLINE LEAVES. 
 
 Writlra for Ih. CUM Mrrilnr. January, 1808. 
 
 " Will you buy my leaves, O monarch, 
 
 They teem with wondrous lore 
 Of things ordained to happen, 
 
 Casting their shades before; 
 The precious truths are written 
 
 In volumes three times three; 
 Come, monarch, pay the sesterces 
 
 And take the books from me." 
 
 "Away, I scorn thee, Sibyl," 
 
 The haughty Tarquin cried, 
 "Thou hast no power to open 
 
 "What God has sworn to hide;" 
 The Sibyl took her volumes 
 
 And proudly stalked away; 
 "Three shall be burned," she muttered, 
 
 "Six shall bring equal pay." 
 
 The curling flames flashed brightly, 
 
 Three volumes ceased to be; 
 "Now six, haughty Tanjiiin, 
 
 Await thy high decree; 
 Thm- precious tonics have perished, 
 
 That told Rome's coming fate, 
 Say, wilt tlion take tin- six I hold, 
 
 And save the glorious State?"
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 101 
 
 Again refused the monarch, 
 
 Three volumes burned again, 
 Like diy leaves in the forest, 
 
 Where comes nor dew nor rain. 
 And stood again the Sibyl 
 
 Before proud Tarquiu's door; 
 "Three volumes now I offer thee, 
 
 Their worth, nor less, nor more." 
 
 And Rome's great king relented, 
 
 "'Tis much, hag, to pay, 
 But sesterces whate'er you wish, 
 
 Sibyl, are yours to-day ; 
 These honored leaves shall rule the State, 
 
 Saved by their words prophetic, 
 From Thule ultima, remote, 
 
 To empires trans-Gangetic." 
 
 The barque we launched in years long past 
 
 On the world's stormy sea, 
 Sailed with no Sibyl leaves to tell 
 
 How strange its fates should be. 
 But deeds are better far than words, 
 
 Acts, than prophetic pen; 
 Prouder, than hopes of things to be, 
 
 Are high deeds that have been. 
 
 No Sibyl in mysterious lore 
 
 Things secret e'er reveals, 
 And only life with solemn pomp 
 
 The book of fate unseals ; 
 
 :
 
 .:> 
 
 1"-.' v., N ,; S V M> 1'c.i: Ms oK 
 
 Thou saidst, O Sibyl, volumes throe, 
 
 Filled with thy lore divine, 
 Were worth as many sesterces 
 
 As- were the volumes nine. 
 
 But one grand life, whose noble deeds 
 
 File by, like men to battle, 
 Borne strongly to its glorious end, 
 
 Amid the world's vain rattle, 
 Is worth a thousand promises 
 
 Dreamed by a brain ascetic, 
 Our glory is in aeta, not words, 
 
 Deeds done, not deeds prophetic. 
 
 s. F. s.
 
 THE CLASS OF '29. 103 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Written for the Class Meeting, January 9, 1868. 
 
 AIR "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the boys are marching." 
 
 As another circling year 
 
 Brings the "Boys" together here 
 To forget awhile their sorrow, toil, and pain, 
 
 While the brothers of our band 
 
 Grasp their fellows' ready hand, 
 All the dear old days come laughing back again. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Eoll, roll, roll along ye swift years, 
 
 Thou, care, deepen every line, 
 
 Ye shall leave us holding fast 
 All the memories of the past, 
 
 Which unite us yet, " the Boys of 'Twenty-Nine." 
 
 What though some confess the gout, 
 
 Some are bald or jolly stout, 
 And with specs we con the yearly bill of fare ; 
 
 When each welcome voice we hear, 
 
 Wigs and wrinkles disappear, 
 And Old Time himself shouts cheerly "As you were ! " 
 
 CHORUS. Roll, roll, &c. 
 
 Though long-cherished hopes be dead, 
 Fortunes crossed and pleasures fled, 
 And our silent homes hear never laugh and song;
 
 104 SONGS AMD POEMS OF THE CLAM OF *. 
 
 Should young stupids call us old, 
 And tlu world IK? growing cold, 
 You won't fail us, brother*, proven well and long. 
 CHORUS. Roll, roll, &c. 
 
 With th' unceasing cycles' flight 
 
 Into crystals clear and bright 
 Kindred elements in nascent slate combine; 
 
 So have formed the sparkling" gems 
 
 Which adorn the diadems 
 
 On the brows of all " the Boys of Twenty-Nine." 
 CHOBUS. Roll, roll, &c. 
 
 And if kindly word and deed 
 
 For a stricken brother's need 
 Shall revive his hope and cheer his weary way, 
 
 Then those jewels borne above 
 
 To the realms of perfect love 
 Will reflect the light of everlasting day. 
 
 CHORUS. Roll, roll, &c. 
 
 Let us gladly then renew 
 
 All of boyhood warm and true 
 When we anchor in these eddies of the stream : 
 
 For our hearts contract no rust 
 
 Though we're hastening "dust to dust," 
 And the present shifts and passes like a dream. 
 
 CHORUS. Roll, roll, &c. 
 
 B. P. w.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 AN ODE. 
 
 My country ! 't is of thee, 
 Sweet land of liberty, 
 
 Of thee I sing; 
 Land where my fathers died, 
 Land of the Pilgrims' pride, 
 From every mountain side 
 
 Let freedom ring. 
 
 My native country! thee, 
 Land of the noble, free, 
 
 Thy name I love; 
 I love thy rocks and rills, 
 Thy woods and templed hills, 
 My heart with rapture thrills 
 
 Like that above.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Let music swell the breeze, 
 And ring from all the trees 
 
 Sweet freedom's song ; 
 Let mortal tongues awake, 
 l.i -I all that breatlies partake, 
 I.H rocks ilicir silence break, 
 
 The sound prolong. 
 
 Our fathers' GOD! to Thee, 
 Author of Liberty, 
 
 To Thee we sing; 
 Long may our land l>e bright 
 With freedom's holy light, 
 Protect us by thy might, 
 
 Great God! our King. 
 
 1C I S. F. 8.
 
 APPENDIX. 109 
 
 WILLIAM WATSON STURGIS. 
 
 Extract from J. F. CLARKE'S Phi Beta Kappa poem, August 27, 1S46. 
 
 W. W. S. died in the summer vacation of our sophomore year, August 3, 1827. 
 
 Nor think the Poet's highest task, in our more earnest age, 
 To entertain, with silky strain, or fill an Album's page; 
 For, as the flower precedes the fruit, the fruit attends the 
 
 seed, 
 So Poetry, the flower of life, consorts with Thought and 
 
 Deed. 
 
 The Poet is a Warrior, doing battle for his kind 
 The Poet is a Hero, with spirit unconfined; 
 A lyric fount shall burst from earth and foam out free 
 
 and far, 
 
 When great Ideas arm themselves for spiritual war. 
 With noble form and gleaming eye, I see the heroic child, 
 With no low thought polluted, with spirit undefiled, 
 As an angel pure, but passionate a mountain-torrent 
 
 bold, 
 Whose leap is like a flashing flame, whose touch is icy 
 
 cold. 
 Him, our whole land shall nourish, him, shall all 
 
 Nature teach; 
 The melodies of woods and winds shall harmonize his 
 
 speech ; 
 
 10
 
 110 APPENDIX. 
 
 The lofty forest's light* and shades, and multitude of hues, 
 
 Into his face a sylvan grace shall quietly infuse. 
 
 Thoughts deep and calm the caves shall lend, where, 
 winding dark below, 
 
 Through many a labyrinthine mile mysteriously they go. 
 
 There ancient Silence, undisturbed, holds her eternal 
 reign 
 
 Unheard, the thunders roll above, unheard, the hurricane. 
 
 The grassy prairie rolling wide, a boundless flowery sea, 
 
 Swept by unfettered breezes, shall make his soul more 
 free. 
 
 And where the solemn mountains breathe the chilly morn- 
 ing air, 
 
 And wreaths of climbing vapors around their shoulders 
 wear, 
 
 Far looking toward the breaking Day, bathed in its earliest 
 beam, 
 
 While misty Night still sleeps below, on valley, wood, 
 and stream, 
 
 His soul shall tower toward God and Truth, and catch 
 the first bright ray 
 
 Which o'er the sleeping Nations comes, to wake a nobler 
 day. 
 
 Or, where the Ocean rushes up, and breaks in shattering 
 shock, 
 
 Deep covering with tumultuous waves the lone outstand- 
 ing rock, 
 
 Then, baffled by the un\ it-Ming foe, falls off and rolls 
 away,
 
 APPENDIX. Ill 
 
 Along the shore, with sullen roar, defeated of its prey 
 The plainly-speaking emblem shall teach him to oppose 
 The firm, calm front of reason, to the passion of his foes. 
 Thus armed, and thus accomplished, in him shall be com- 
 bined 
 All energies of thought and heart, all grace of form and 
 
 mind. 
 Then, free from selfishness and fear, and ready for the 
 
 strife, 
 
 He on the battle-ground of Truth shall dedicate his life ' 
 To a conflict nobler far than that where through the 
 
 smoke was seen 
 The squadron's charge, while iron Death poured down the 
 
 Palm Kavine. 
 
 Far worthier shall this battle be, more terrible the blows, 
 When thoughts deep-rooted in the mind contend as deadly 
 
 foes. 
 
 Then fall the ancient Dogmas, and Lies long sanctified, 
 And Frauds, which, throned as customs, have God and 
 
 man defied. 
 Such heroes we may hope to see, when from our people's 
 
 veins 
 The brute and savage instincts pass, and but the man 
 
 remains. 
 
 ONE such there was and, 0, if love or tears had power 
 
 to save, 
 
 He had not gone in all his bloom into that early grave. 
 The beauty of a spotless life, an unstained purity,
 
 I 112 APPENDIX. 
 
 out from that transparent brow, from that unclouded 
 
 eye. 
 
 The modest energies of soul, the free and manly grace 
 Which shone like summer sunlight from that sweet earnest 
 
 face, 
 
 Still live within all memories, as when we saw him last, 
 And gray-haired men yet mourn the boy, though twenty 
 
 years have passed. 
 O, classmates! had our STURGIS lived, there had been 
 
 little need 
 Of painting thus in empty words what he had shown by 
 
 deed. 
 And, O, my friends! forgive the fault, if I have lingered 
 
 long, 
 To twine around that much-loved name the wreaths of 
 
 this rude Song.
 
 APPENDIX. 113 
 
 AN EXTRACT. 
 
 So you will not think I mean to speak lightly of old 
 friendships, because we cannot help instituting comparisons 
 between our present and former selves by the aid of those 
 who were what we were, but are not what we are. 
 Nothing strikes one more, in the race of life, than to see 
 how many give out in the first half of the course. " Com- 
 mencement day " always reminds me of the start for the 
 "Derby," when the beautiful high-bred three year olds of 
 the season are brought up for trial. That day is the 
 start, and life is the race. Here we are at Cambridge, and 
 a class is just "graduating." Poor Harry! he was to 
 have been there too, but he has paid forfeit ; step out 
 here into the grass back of the church ; ah ! there it is : 
 
 "HtTXC LA.PIDE3I POSUERCNT 
 SOCII MCEREXTES." 
 
 But this is the start, and here they are, coats bright as 
 silk, and manes as smooth as eau lustmle can make them. 
 Some of the best of the colts are pranced round, a few 
 minutes each, to show their paces. What is that old 
 gentleman crying about? and the old lady by him, and 
 the three girls, what are they all covering their eyes for? 
 Oh, that is their colt which has just been trotted up on 
 the stage. Do they really think those little thin legs can 
 do anything in such a slashing sweepstakes as is coming
 
 114 APPENDIX. 
 
 off in these next forty years? Oh, this terrible gift of 
 eoond-sight that comes to some of us when we begin to 
 look through the silvered rings of the arcus scnilis ! 
 
 Ten yean gum. First turn in the race. A few broken 
 down ; two or three bolted. Several show in advance of 
 the ruck. Cassock, a black colt, seems to be ahead of 
 the rest; those black colts commonly get the start, I 
 have noticed, of the others, in the first quarter. Meteor 
 has pulled up. 
 
 Ttcenty years. Second corner turned. Cassock has 
 dropped from the front, and Judejr, an iron-gray, has the 
 lead. But look! how they have thinned out! Down 
 flat, five, six, how many? They lie still enough! 
 they will not get up again in this race, be very sure ! 
 And the rest of them, what a "tailing off!" Anybody 
 can see who is going to win, perhaps. 
 
 Thirty years. Third corner turned. Dives, bright 
 sorrel, ridden by the fellow in a yellow jacket, begins to 
 make play fast; is getting to be the favorite \\ith many. 
 But who is that other one that has been lengthening his 
 stride from the first, and now shows close up to the 
 front? Don't you remember the |iiiet brown colt A*f> /'/. 
 with the star in his forehead? That is he; he is one of 
 the sort that lasts ; look out for him ! The black " colt," 
 as we used to call him, is in the background, taking it 
 easily in a gentle trot. There is one they used to call 
 the Filly, on account of a certain feminine air he had ; 
 well up, you see; the Filly is not to be despised, my 
 boy!
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 115 
 
 Forty years. More dropping off, but places much as 
 before. 
 
 Fifty years. Kace over. All that are on the course 
 are coming in at a walk; no more running. Who is 
 ahead! Ahead? What! and the winning-post a slab of 
 white or gray stone standing out from that turf where 
 there is no more jockeying or straining for victory ! Well 
 the world marks their places in its betting-book; but be 
 sure that these matter very little, if they have run as 
 well as they knew how! 
 
 Autocrat of the Breakfast Table: pp. 107-109.
 
 116 APPENDIX. 
 
 AN EXTRACT. 
 
 The Professor has lieen to see me. Came in, glorious, 
 at about twelve o'clock, last night. Said he liad been 
 with "the boys." On inquiry, found that "the boys" 
 were certain buldish and grayish old gentlemen that one 
 sees or hears of in various important stations of society. 
 The Professor is one of the same set, but he always talks 
 as if he had been out of college about ten years, whereas 
 
 [Each of these dots was a 
 
 little nod, which the company understood, as tlu> reader 
 will, no doubt.] He calls them sometimes "the boys," ami 
 sometimes " the old fellows." Call him by the latter title, 
 and see how he likes it. Well, he came in last nijrlit, 
 glorious, as I was saying. Of course I don't mean vi- 
 nously exalted : he drinks little wine on such occasions, 
 and is well known to all the Peters and Patricks as the 
 gentleman who always has indefinite quantities uf Mack 
 tea to kill any extra glass of red claret he may have 
 swallowed. But the Professor says lie always -MS tipsy 
 on old memories at these gatherings. Hi- was. I forget 
 how many years old when he went to the meeting; just 
 turned of twenty now, he said. He made various 
 youthful proposals to me, including a duct under the 
 landlady's daughter's window. He had just learned a trick, 
 he said, of one of "the boys," of getting a splendid bass 
 out of a door-panel by rubbing it with the palm of bin 
 hand. Offered to sing "The sky is bright," accompany-
 
 APPENDIX. 117 
 
 ing himself on the front-door, if I would go down and 
 help in the chorus. Said there never was such a 
 set of fellows as the old boys of the set he has been 
 with. Judges, mayors, Congress-men, Mr. Speakers, 
 leaders in science, clergymen better than famous, and 
 famous too, poets by the half-dozen, singers with voices 
 like angels, financiers, wits, three of the best laughers in 
 the Commonwealth, engineers, agriculturists, all forms 
 of talent and knowledge he pretended were represented in 
 that meeting. Then he began to quote Byron about 
 Santa Croce, and maintained that he could " furnish out 
 creation" in all its details from that set of his. He 
 would like to have the whole boodle of them, (I remon- 
 strated against this word, but the Professor said it was a 
 diabolish good word, and he would have no other,) with 
 their wives and children, shipwrecked on a remote Island, 
 just to see how splendidly they would reorganize society. 
 They could build a city, they have done it; make con- 
 stitutions and laws; establish churches and lyceums; 
 teach and practice the healing art; instruct in every 
 department; found observatories; create commerce and 
 manufactures; write songs and hymns, and sing 'em, and 
 make instruments to accompany the songs with ; lastly, 
 publish a journal almost as good as the " Northern Maga- 
 zine," edited by the Come-outers. There was nothing 
 they were not up to, from a christening to a hanging; 
 the last, to be sure, could never be called for, unless 
 some stranger got in among them. 
 
 Autocrat of the Breakfast Table : pp. 137-139.
 
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