In Various Moods Poems And Verses

. . . . . . 5 7 THES LUMBESRH IP . . . . . . . . . 5 8 THE ROBINS WEDDING . . . . . . . . 61 OLD H OME. G OOD-BYE . . . . . . . 64 THE RUSTIC DANCE . . . . . . . . . 66 TO A DEADC LASSMAT . E . . . . . . . 6 9 OF GOD OR CAESAR . . . . . . . . . 72 DEAR TO MY GOD ARE THE RILLS . . . . 73 THE SOWERS Written for the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Founding of St. Lawrence University I know the hills that lift the distant plain, The college hall-the spirit of its throngs, The meadows and the waving fields of grain, Full well I know their colors and their songs. I know the storied gates where love was told, The grove where walked the muses and the seers, The river, dark or touched with light of gold, Or slow, or swift so like the flowing years. I know not these who sadly sit them down And while the night in half-forgotten days I know not these who wear the hoary crown And find a pathos in the merry lays. 111 Here Memory, with old wisdom on her lips, A finger points at each familiar name-Some writ on water, stone or stranded ships, Some in the music of the trump of fame. Here oft, I think, beloved voices call Behind a weathered door neath ancient trees. I hear sad echoes in the empty hall, The wide worlds lyric in the harping breeze. It sings of them I loved and left of old, Of my fond hope to bring a worthy prize-Some well-earned token, better far than gold, And lay it humbly down before their eyes, And tell them it were rightly theirs-not mine, An harvest come of their own word and deed I strove with tares that threatened my design To make the crop as noble as the seed. So they might see it paid-that life they knew-A toilsome web and knit of many a skein, L21 With loves sweet sacrifice all woven through, And broken threads of hope and joy and pain. On root-bound acres, pent with rocks and aones, Their hope of wealth and leisure slowly died. They gave their strengtn in toil that racked their bones, They gave their youth, their beauty, and their pride P Ere Natures last defence had been withdrawn That those they loved might have what they could not-The power of learning wedded to their brawn And to the simple virtue there begot. My college Once-it was a day of old-I saw thy panes aglow with sunset fire And heard the story of thy purpose told And felt the tide of infinite desire. In thee I saw the gates of mystery That led to dream-lit, vast, inviting lands Far backward to the bourne of history And forward to the House not made with hands. You gave the husbandman a richer yield Than any that his granary may hold You called his children from the shop and field, Taught them to sow and reap an undredfold. To sow the seed of truth and hope and peace, And take the root of error from the sod To be of those who make the sure increase, Forever growing, in the lands of God. Read before the Lambda Chapter of Phi Beta Kappa, June 24, 1902 Idle gods of Old Olympus-Zeus and his immortal clan, Grown in stature, grace and wisdom, meekly serve the will of man...