Two Poems: Class Day Poem; The Purple Hills

Iv

“From the quiet heart of the mountains Ye must take journey, down To the world, that is ever careless Of the skirts of a scholar’s gown. And the sheltered life of college Ye must leave behind you then, And bear your parts in the battle Where men fight hard with men.

There there is naught to help you But your wit and strength of limb, There every man is your master Until you have mastered him. For a great law governs the fighting And all are ruled thereby-- ‘He that is strong shall conquer! He that is weak must die!’

V

“Therefore, that ye may merit Men’s praise when your heads are gray, Cling to the good ye have gathered From my teaching that ends to-day. Ye have learned many true sayings And many wise maxims heard, For some ye know the reason, And for some ye must take my word.

But, though ye forget the others, These two hold firm and clear: The first is--‘_He that would win must work_,’ The second--‘_Thou shalt not fear!_’ For the vices of a strong man Are pardoned in the end; But he that is born a coward Hath neither foe nor friend!

Vi

“Be tender, and quick to pity At the sight of another’s wrong, Humble before a weaker, Cringing not to the strong. Paying each service twofold, Nor counting the debt clear then; Keeping your faith with women, Speaking the truth to men.

Vii

“High in the purple mountains, Where the world’s strife cannot come, Ringed by the iron cordon Of the hills that guard my home, I gather my sons about me And teach them at my knee, And when they have learned their lesson, My sons go forth from me.

Over the world they wander, In the sunshine and wind and storm, But I sit here in the quiet room And keep the hearthstone warm; Watching and listening and waiting For their footsteps at the door, Till one by one as the years go by My sons come home once more.

Then I fling wide the portal And welcome them to the hall, With praise for the strong, and pity For the weak, and love for all. And the welcome that I give them Is reward for those that win; And they who are spent with fighting Find a new strength therein.

And when they have told their stories, And rested a little space, They rise, and get them forth again Each man to his own place; To take the task that waits him, And labor to the end, That he may earn a living For wife and child and friend.

Careless of sneers and frowning From curs that cringe and shirk, Asking no greater pleasure Than the sight of his finished work.

Viii

“Ye who to-day must follow Whither your fates shall lead, These are your elder brothers! Prove yourselves of the breed! See that ye count as shameful No work your hands can do; And when ye are spent, come back to me That I may comfort you.

Now, through the open portal, Rise and go forth to-day! And a mother’s blessing go with you, To help you on your way.”

Williamstown, June 20, 1899.

Air--“Annie Lisle”

Dying echoes fill the valley, Heralding the night, As we gather on the campus In the waning light. In the west the sunset’s crimson All the heaven fills, And its glory rims the edges Of our purple hills.

Fast the length’ning shadows gather, Sunset dims to grey, And the calling winds of evening Through the branches play. With the far stars pale above them While day’s tumult stills, Watching us who know and love them, Stand the purple hills.

Safe within our little valley From the outer strife, Are enshrined the happy mem’ries Of our college life. And when darker days have found us, ’Mid this old world’s ills; Still our hearts will turn with gladness To our purple hills.

Williamstown, 1898.