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(Excerpt)
O YE familiar scenes,—ye groves of pine, | |
| That once were mine and are no longer mine,— | |
| Thou river, widening through the meadows green | |
| To the vast sea, so near and yet unseen,— | |
| Ye halls, in whose seclusion and repose | 5 |
| Phantoms of fame, like exhalations, rose | |
| And vanished,—we who are about to die | |
| Salute you; earth and air and sea and sky, | |
| And the Imperial Sun that scatters down | |
| His sovereign splendors upon grove and town. | 10 |
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| Ye do not answer us! ye do not hear! | |
| We are forgotten; and in your austere | |
| And calm indifference, ye little care | |
| Whether we come or go, or whence or where. | |
| What passing generations fill these halls, | 15 |
| What passing voices echo from these walls, | |
| Ye heed not; we are only as the blast, | |
| A moment heard, and then forever past. | |
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| Not so the teachers who in earlier days | |
| Led our bewildered feet through learning’s maze; | 20 |
| They answer us,—alas! what have I said? | |
| What greetings come there from the voiceless dead? | |
| What salutation, welcome, or reply? | |
| What pressure from the hands that lifeless lie? | |
| They are no longer here; they all are gone | 25 |
| Into the land of shadows,—all save one. | |
| Honor and reverence, and the good repute | |
| That follows faithful service as its fruit, | |
| Be unto him, whom living we salute. | |
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| The great Italian poet, when he made | 30 |
| His dreadful journey to the realms of shade, | |
| Met there the old instructor of his youth, | |
| And cried in tones of pity and of ruth: | |
| “Oh, never from the memory of my heart | |
| Your dear, paternal image shall depart, | 35 |
| Who while on earth, ere yet by death surprised, | |
| Taught me how mortals are immortalized; | |
| How grateful am I for that patient care | |
| All my life long my language shall declare.” * * * * * | |
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