Grand'ther Baldwin's Thanksgiving, with Other Ballads and Poems

     (Feb. 11, 1870.)

As we meet in thy name, Alma Mater, to-night,
All our hearts and our hopes are as one,
And love for the mother that nurtured his youth
Beats high in the breast of each son.
The sweet chords of Memory bridge o'er the Past,
The years fade away like a dream,
By the banks of Cephissus, beneath the green trees,
We tread thy fair walks, Academe.

The heights of Hymettus that bound the near view
Fill the air with an odor as sweet
As the beautiful clusters of sun-tinted grapes
From the vineyards that lie at our feet.
O realm of enchantment, O Wonderful land,
Where the gods hold high converse with men,
Come out from the dusk of past ages once more,
And live in our fancy again.

Let us drink to the Past as our glasses we lift,
Let eye speak to eye, heart to heart,
Let the bonds of sweet fellowship bind each to each,
In the hours that remain ere we part.
And thou, Alma Mater, grown fairer with age,
Let us echo the blessing that fell
From thy motherly lips, as we stood at thy side,
And thou bad'st us God-speed and Farewell.

     III

     (Feb. 21, 1872.)

Fair Harvard, the months have accomplished their round
And a year stands full-orbed and complete,
Since last at thy summons, with dutiful hearts,
Thy children sat here at thy feet.
Since last in thy presence, grown youthful once more,
We drank to the past and its joys,
Shaking off every care that encumbered our years,
And dreamed that again we were boys.

To-night once again in thy presence we meet
In the freshness and flush of life's spring;
We wait but thy blessing, we ask but thy smile,
As our sails to the free air we fling.
The winds breathe auspicious that waft us along,
The sky, undisturbed, smiles serene,
Hope stands at the prow, and the waters gleam bright
With sparkles of silvery sheen.

And thy voice, Alma Mater, so potent and sweet,
Still sounds in our ears as of yore,
And thy motherly counsel we hear, wisdom-fraught,
As we push our frail barks from the shore.
From the foam-crested waves of the mountainous sea
As backward our glances we strain,
We see the dear face of our mother benign,
And bless her again and again.

     IV

     (Feb. 21, 1873.)

There's a fountain of Fable whose magical power
Time's ravages all could repair,
And replace the bowed form and the tottering step,
The wrinkles and silvery hair,
By the brown flowing locks and the graces of youth,
Its footstep elastic and light,
Could mantle the cheek with its long-vanished bloom
And make the dull eye keen and bright.

'Tis only a fable—a beautiful dream,
But the fable, the dream, shall come true,
As thy sons, Alma Mater, assemble to-night
The joys of past years to renew.
Our eyes shall grow bright with their old wonted light,
Our spirits untrammelled by care,
And the Goddess of Hope, with her fresh rainbow tints,
Shall paint every prospect more fair.

How sweet were the friendships we formed in thy halls!
How strong were the tendrils that bound
Our hearts to the mother whose provident care
Encompassed her children around!
Now strong in our manhood we cherish her still;
And if by misfortune brought low,
Our strength shall support her, our arms bear her up,
And sustain her through weal and through woe.

OCCASIONAL ODES.

BI-CENTENNIAL ODE.[2 - Sung at the bi-centennial celebration of the incorporation of Marlboro, Mass.]

     (June 13, 1860.)

From the door of the homestead the mother looks forth,
With a glance half of hope, half of fear,