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SWARTHMORE IDYLLS 
 By John Russell Hayes 
 With Illustrations 
 By Robert Sha<w 
 
Sivarthmore Idylls 
 

SWARTHMORE IDYLLS 
 
 BY JOHN RUSSELL HAYES ^ ^ 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS ^ ^ ^ 
 BY ROBERT SHAW .* .< .< ^ 
 
 These Swarthntore walls that rise toward heaven' s blue. 
 
 Etched with memorial green, the ages long 
 
 Will in the dust lay low. But human hearts 
 
 Pure, S7veet and strong, are zvalls invisible, 
 
 Groiving more deep and broad in years that touch 
 
 The granite to decay^bundation sure 
 
 For building of the Architect Divine/ 
 
 — Elizabeth Powell Boxd 
 
 WILMINGTON, DELAWARE 
 THE JOHN M. ROGERS .< 
 
 PRESS: IS99 ^ .-<.•« j* j* 
 
TWO COPIES RECEIVED, , t^ 
 
 Library of Congresj, V -^ ^ 
 
 OffUo of the h<\ik^ 
 
 D- J 6-1899 ' \(x 
 
 Register of CopyMghtft 1«^" I 
 
 49870 
 
 Copyright by 
 Johu Russell Hayes 
 
 1899 
 
 SECOND COPY, 
 
0^ 
 
 H_ 
 
 
 To 
 W. H. A. 
 
 Dua docto ct dilccto 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Swarthmore 7 
 
 Happy College Days of Old 14 
 
 Anniversary Ode Ifi 
 
 The West House 24 
 
 "Beatus Ille" 30 
 
 The Mother's Gifts 35 
 
 In College Days 39 
 
 lu Swarthmore Meeting 45 
 
 Sonnets: 
 
 A Portrait of Lucretia Mott 47 
 
 Hope, Trust, Believe! 48 
 
 We Who Dwell in Sight of Thee 49 
 
 Titauia and Bottom 50 
 
 The Asphaltum-Makers . 53 
 
 To Canon Rawnsley 54 
 
 Swarthmore, Fairest! 55 
 
 The Grey Olde Maune of Dreames 56 
 
SWARTHMORE 
 
 GRAY College, on th}- green and silent hill, 
 Beside thy groves of beech and shadowy spruce, 
 O'erlooking man}- a mile of peaceful field, 
 Deep, dreamy wood and river-meadow fair, — 
 Thy children love thee well, and he not least 
 Who offers now this slender meed of song. 
 
 I 
 
 In thee, Swarthmore, are centered noblest hopes; — 
 
 Not without spiritual light they planned 
 
 And built, those Quakers of the olden school. 
 
 Here in the sweet and wholesome countryside, 
 
 Free from the city's tumult and its stain, — 
 
 Erecting here by Penn's primeval woods 
 
 An edifice to learning dedicate. 
 
 To science and the high humanities, 
 
 And beauteous arts that nourish mind and sotd; 
 
 Their fair foundation gifting with the name 
 
 Of that old House in ancient Lancashire 
 
 Where Fox, the high-souled Founder of his sect. 
 
 Oft sought retirement from the world's loud noise 
 
 And steeled his godly heart for fresh crusades. 
 
 — And not a few with pilgrim feet have fared 
 
 From this new Swarthmore in the western world 
 
 To that old home and cradle of their faith; 
 
 And on these walls, "etched with memorial green," 
 
 An English ivy grows, fair living link 
 
 Binding our younger Swarthmore to the old. 
 
SWAkTHMORE IDYLLS 
 
 II 
 
 Here in the sweet and wholesome coiintr3'side, 
 Free from the city's tumult and its stain, 
 The youth who pays allegiance unto her, 
 Our Mother Loved, grows in his loyalty 
 As weeks and months go by, and all her peace 
 And tranquil beaut}' fill his finer moods, 
 Moulding his consciousness by slow degrees. 
 
 Here, pondering the poetries of old. 
 The records and the lore of ages gone. 
 He in a measure heritor becomes 
 Of ancient men and good, of Socrates, 
 Of Virgil, and of Luther, and the sweet 
 Assisan, and of many a sage who taught, 
 Or bard who sang in accents high, the great 
 Imperishable and universal truths. 
 
 Ill 
 Fair is the landscape sloping from thy walls. 
 Gray Swarthmore, to the distant river-meads: 
 Fair in its springtime mantle soft and green. 
 When Crum winds slow by banks of violets; 
 Fair in the autunm when the dreamy mists 
 Their glamour lend unto the ripened year; 
 Yea, fair in lean midwinter's sombre days 
 When all is wrapt in silence weird and white, 
 Hamlet and hill and stream and far-off farm. 
 And yonder low-eaved West Hou.se quaint and old. 
 
SWARTH3IORE 
 
 Fair are thy western woods where sinks the sun 
 
 In glory tender and ineffable, — 
 
 Tall western woods where all the summer long 
 
 Stillness prevails and shady solitude. 
 
 In stormy twilights when the year is old 
 
 The swaying trees a mournful music make 
 
 Along those steep wood-slopes; and warmly housed, 
 
 The cheery student-mates with twofold joy 
 
 Converse, or muse, or find a fresh delight 
 
 In books, those high companions of the soul. 
 
 Each season hath its pleasures, its rewards 
 
 For keen devotions and for studious days; 
 
 Each season finds the Swarthmore landscape fair 
 
 With beauty and sweet peacefulness, of power 
 
 To soften and make glad the graver hours; 
 
 But fairest in the young and tremulous days 
 
 When April whitens those old cherry trees 
 
 And wraps the campus all in verdure soft. 
 
 And the dear meadow-lark in dewy grass 
 
 Pours out his clear, pellucid notes of joy; 
 
 While students in the dreamy afternoons 
 
 Read pastoral poets 'neath the bowering trees. 
 
 Or old romances out of Spenser's page, 
 
 Musing in revery, as Arnold mused 
 
 In Oxford's academic solitudes. 
 
 Arnold, — a cherished name in Swarthmore shades! 
 
 And once among us came that seer august, 
 
 Lingered beneath our trees, and in our halls 
 
SIVARTHMORE IDYLLS 
 
 Lifted his sweet, sad voice, bequeathing fair 
 
 Hellenic echoes that can never die. 
 
 — Wordsworthian music fills this master's page; 
 
 And while in college days are sown the seeds 
 
 Of friendships true and sweet, his idylls twain 
 
 Beloved shall be, and sympathetic youth 
 
 Shall grieve with him for Thyrsis lost from earth. 
 
 IV 
 
 As turns some traveler in a distant land 
 
 And dreams of his far home across the seas, 
 
 So we thy children, Swarthmore, dream of thee 
 
 When we have gone from out thy sheltering arms 
 
 To cope with .sterner life. Dear memories rise 
 
 In those more pensive hours that haunt us all. 
 
 When by the ingleside on winter nights 
 
 Or in some tender sunset by the sea 
 
 The heart is warmed, — dear memories arise 
 
 Of the old Quaker college, once the home 
 
 And happy sanctuary of our youth. 
 
 In those more pensive hours old Swarthmore days, 
 
 Fair with the glamour years and distance give, 
 
 Rise up to cheer the meditative heart: — 
 
 The old remembered hours; the faces dear 
 
 Of class-mates, friends and teachers; and the scene 
 
 We loved to contemplate in those far days, — 
 
 The peaceful townships sloping to the south. 
 
 With fields and farms and nestling villages, 
 
 And ever-beauteous woodlands fading far 
 
 10 
 
Swarthmore Hall, England 
 ' Thai old House in ancirnl I,ancashire" 
 
SWARTHMORE 
 
 Into the misty edges of the sky; — 
 A hundred recollections like to these 
 Make glad those winter evenings b>- the fire 
 Or tender summer sunsets by the sea. 
 
 To these calm precincts age can never come, 
 
 Save as the ivy comes on yonder walls 
 
 To clothe with fadeless green: — here Youth abides, 
 
 Here bright Enthusiasm hath her home, 
 
 And Faith and clear-eyed Hope are sisters here I 
 
 — Then, Swarthmore, we thy daughters and thy sons 
 
 Still turn to thee and feel the rosy touch 
 
 Of youthful days, the glamour and the glow 
 
 Of golden j-ears and memorable hours. 
 
 Mother Revered, still ht tin' message given 
 
 With amplest hand; still be thy children led 
 
 Along the pure and consecrated paths 
 
 With Beauty for their talisman and guide; 
 
 Not that "mere beauty" which some men condemn 
 
 And others fear, but Beauty which is one 
 
 With truth and power and widest perfectne.ss, 
 
 Beauty admitting them to fellowship 
 
 With all of pure and high and holiest 
 
 In nature and in spiritual realms, — 
 
 Beauty that wakes to life the harmony 
 
 Which Shakespeare says is in immortal souls! 
 
 13 
 
HAPPY COLLEGE DAYS OF OLD 
 
 r\ HAPPY college clays of old, 
 ^^ And ha\-e ye gone forever, 
 So rich in memories untold 
 
 And joys that wither never! 
 Ah, fair and fadeless were the flowers 
 That bloomed for us in those dear hours! 
 
 O days that never knew a care, 
 
 O days of youth and glory. 
 That led by magic paths and fair 
 
 Through sununer-lands of story! 
 Across the years your echoes flow, 
 Ye golden days of long ago. 
 
 Now over life's wide fields we roam 
 With little time for dreaming, 
 
 Yet visions of our college home 
 Within our hearts are gleaming. 
 
 O sweet and unforgotten j^ears, 
 
 We see you through our misty tears! 
 
 O comrades scattered far and wide, 
 
 By forest or by river. 
 By mountain-slope or ocean-tide, — 
 
 One bond shall bind us ever; 
 Old Swarthmore days shall dearer grow 
 As o'er the lengthening hills we go. 
 
 14 
 
HAPPY COLLEGE DAYS OF OLD 
 
 Those happy days we 3"et maj- see; 
 
 They live in letters golden 
 Upon the scrolls of memory 
 
 In records sweet and olden. 
 Forever beautiful are they, 
 And we shall cherish them for aye! 
 
 15 
 
ANNIVERSARY ODE 
 
 FOR THE TWENTY-FIFTH COMMENCEMENT OF 
 SWARTHMORE COI.I,EGE, 1897 
 
 NOT thine, O Swartlimore, is the ripeness yet 
 Which long, slow centuries beget; 
 Not thine the glory which gray Oxford knows, 
 Nor that old seat by Cam's untroubled tide. 
 About their pensive shades abide 
 An old-world stateliuess and deep repose 
 Born of a thousand years of tranquil peace. 
 Renowned are they, and fraught 
 With beauty from the ages brought. 
 — Such guerdon, Swarthniore, as the days increase, 
 Thy children wish for thee! 
 But now our song must be 
 Of youth, and all the promise golden 
 Which in the visions of bright youth is holden. 
 
 Green is the ivy on thy walls, 
 
 And green the slopes whereon thy shadow falls; 
 
 All that the charmed eye may see, 
 
 Pasture and dale and far-off dreamy tree, 
 
 In vernal loveliness but speak of thee: 
 
 For thou art yet in thy sweet prime, 
 
 Still in the rosy east thy sun doth climb. 
 
 With verdant coronal thy brows are bound, 
 
 Gathered where April first 
 
 Her fragile fetters burst 
 
 And strewed with starry bloom the greenwood ground. 
 
 16 
 
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 * These walls, 'rtilieii 7ci(h tnetnorial greett' 
 
ANN/VKA'SARY ODE 
 
 Full of the morning's J03' I see thee stand, 
 
 Like some fair, new-crowned Queen within a peaceful land! 
 
 Til}' young and happy heart, I know, 
 
 Is oft aglow 
 
 With all that most endears 
 
 Unto the old gray world youth's dewy years, — 
 
 Fond hopes and aspirations high. 
 
 Enduring faith that lets no stormy sky 
 
 Obscure the steady stars whose certain shining 
 
 Thou knowest well; 
 
 Enduring faith whose gladness no dark spell 
 
 Of sad repining 
 
 Hath power to change or charm away; — 
 
 Preserving fadeless ever and alway 
 
 Pandora's one last precious gift to man. 
 
 That dower from the age Promethean 
 
 The heart of noble youth inspiring 
 
 With loftiest desiring, — 
 
 E'en 'this young band, hopeful, elate, 
 
 Who stand to-day within thy gate. 
 
 O tell me of the dreams, young Queen of hojae. 
 
 That make more tender yet thy tender eyes. 
 
 Here where unclouded skies 
 
 Bend lovingly above the slope 
 
 Of thy dear hill, 
 
 While June's sweet days of silence fill 
 
 Meadow and tremulous glade 
 
 And cloistered aisles of sylvan shade. 
 
 19 
 
SWARTHMORE IDYLLS 
 
 Wide fields of rippling wheat 
 
 And purple clover fragrant-sweet, — 
 
 With all the niid-j-ear's primal loveliness; 
 
 Here where with glance serene 
 
 Thou gazest o'er the soft idyllic scene, 
 
 To where the gleaming river's mild caress 
 
 Enfolds the sleeping woods 
 
 With reedy reach and watery solitudes. 
 
 Ah, tell me, doth thy dreaming gaze 
 
 Find in that landscape's sweep. 
 
 Yon river, and the far Atlantic deep, 
 
 Shadows and images of ancient days ? 
 
 Doth some new-old Rhine-hoard, 
 
 By fairy fingers stored, 
 
 lyie hidden in the depths of that fair stream. 
 
 Filling the pauses of thy dream 
 
 With echoes of the Middle Age remote ? 
 
 Or doth the wave-tossed boat 
 
 Of lorn Ulysses plying 
 
 By spectral islands far outlying. 
 
 Sweep o'er the tides of yonder misty sea, 
 
 Fresh-fleeing from the vSirens' witchery ? 
 
 Yea; for I think the present doth not all 
 
 Thy phantasy enthrall; 
 
 Nor doth hard-featured Fact 
 
 Bind thee with metes and measurements exact. 
 
 In man's blind striving for the strange and new 
 
 He hath Init little left, 'tis true, 
 
 20 
 
.■; NNI VERSA A' } ' ODE 
 
 Of the old pristine glory 
 
 Of myth and magic story: 
 
 The golden harmonies of ancient years 
 
 Fall on insensate ears; 
 
 Still farther from the old Parnassian shrine 
 
 Our weary way doth lead; 
 
 Small time have we to heed 
 
 The faint, sad voice of oracles divine, 
 
 Whose hollow echoes weep 
 
 Through high Dodona's grove or by lone Delphi's steep! 
 
 Yet while fair Learning's temples still endure 
 
 Man shall not wholly >ield luito the lure 
 
 Of pelf. The voice of wisdom shall 
 
 With pleadings musical 
 
 Call him from dusty ways of care. 
 
 Into the still and tranquil air 
 
 Of truths eternal, — teaching him God's word 
 
 Breathed by the waving wood, the joyous bird. 
 
 The tiny roving bee, — 
 
 Present in cloud and rock and tree. 
 
 And in the pure and perfect grace 
 
 Of simple nature's heaven-reflecting face. 
 
 In Wisdom's sanctuaries, too, 
 
 Conununion shall he hold 
 
 With tho.se high masters of the days of old, 
 
 The wise, the beautiful, the true, — 
 
 Who, voicing thoughts sublime 
 
 In stately utterance or rolling rhyme. 
 
 21 
 
SWARTHMORE IDYLLS 
 
 Still to the human soul must be 
 Bearers of light and immortality! 
 
 — Swarthmore, for thee it is a laurelled day, 
 The brightest day in all thine annals clear; 
 From many a distant town and rural way 
 Come those who hold thee dear, — 
 Founder and friend and patron; and thine own 
 Devoted children, full of warm acclaim 
 For thy beloved name, 
 Full of high hope that thine may be, 
 Mother Revered, a not inglorious destiny! 
 
 Wisely and well the seed was sown ; 
 
 O wisely be the gleaning done, and well! 
 
 Be not unheeded or unheard the spell 
 
 Of memoried names, nor of the memoried faces 
 
 From whose still station on thy walls 
 
 A sweet and silent consecration falls. 
 
 Ah, dearer yet shall grow the dear old places 
 
 Thine earlier children knew; 
 
 Another line shall rise of tender hearts and true. 
 
 And 'neath the murmurous music of thj- trees 
 
 Shall learn of larger truth. 
 
 Nourishing their beauteous years of youth 
 
 With wider faiths, sweeter philanthropies. 
 
 Ideals loftier far than we may know. 
 
 So shall thy peaceful mission grow; 
 So shall the ripening hour 
 
 22 
 
ANNIVERSARY ODE 
 
 Bring on the fair and perfect flower, — 
 
 Till down long vistas of illustrious years 
 
 Thy sons shall gaze with noble pride, 
 
 Thy daughters by their side 
 
 Bless thee with happy tears; — 
 
 While thou dost calmly face the Future vast, 
 
 Still cherishing thy spirit's steadfast flame. 
 
 Still cherishing an old ancestral name 
 
 August with memories of thine own sweet Past ! 
 
 23 
 
THE WEST HOUSE* 
 
 /^ ANCIENT House, what memories are gleaming, 
 ^-^ What recollections of the vanished hours, 
 While through the silent summer thou art dreaming 
 Enfolded by thy trees and meadow- flowers ? 
 What visions of old days 
 
 May cheer thy lonely heart, 
 Seen through the hallowed haze 
 Where thou dost muse apart ? 
 
 Peaceful and calm, — of our unrest and worry 
 
 Tliou heedless art; our fevers touch not thee; 
 Thou sharest not our age's heat and hurry. 
 Secure in thy serene tranquillity. 
 
 Not all the troublous schemes 
 
 The weary centur\' knows 
 Can mar thy quiet dreams 
 Or break thy calm repose. 
 
 Dear fragrant June is smiling in her glory. 
 Filled with the radiance of youth is she; 
 From out the quiet of thy shadows hoarj' 
 Thou watchest o'er her beauty tenderly. 
 To thy gray walls she cleaves 
 
 With childish, shy caress. 
 And bowers thine ancient eaves 
 With leafy loveliness. 
 
 ■■■■■Read at the xmveiliiiii of a nit-inurial tablet at the birthplace 
 of Benjamin West. P. R. A., — >Swarthiiiore June 23, 1898 
 
■i»'**9-, • 
 
 '*A, m.'4^ 
 
 " Thfc, lihi Hoii$t\ thai shunhcrest scrt-iulv, 
 U't' cherish as the Painter's boyhood home'" 
 
THE WEST HOUSE 
 
 The perfume of her sweet old-fashioned roses 
 
 Awakes in thee a thought of other years, 
 And revery o'er those phantom days discloses 
 The faded hours that bring regretful tears. 
 Far voices call to thee 
 
 In a remembered tongue 
 From that old century 
 When thou, gray House, wert young! 
 
 Perchance thou dreamest of departed faces, 
 
 Colonial dwellers by the woodlands tall, 
 Grave Quaker ^-eomen, dames of antique graces, 
 And soft-eyed children best beloved of all. 
 Full often did they pass 
 Or linger at X\\y door, 
 Blithe lad and ruddy lass. 
 In those far years of yore. 
 
 They long have gone from earth, but thou art keeping 
 
 In thine old heart their memory yet clear, 
 While through the generations the}- are sleeping 
 Forgot of all save thee for many a year; 
 Forgot of all save thee 
 
 The place of their repose, 
 Where wandering ivies be 
 And tangled briar-rose. 
 
 But best and brightest of the memories olden 
 That fill thy mellow age with quiet jo}', — 
 
 O best and brightest are the memories golden 
 That cluster rotind one Heaven-gifted boy! 
 
 27 
 
SH 'AR THMORE ID 3 'LLS 
 
 Though that far mother-clime 
 
 Claim his maturity, 
 Yet all his boyhood's prime 
 
 Belongs, old House, to thee. 
 
 He loved the silence of these woodland alleys, 
 
 He loved the colors of this peaceful sky, 
 He loved these sleeping hills and grassy valleys; 
 Their tranquil beauty pleased his artist eye. 
 For many a summer hour 
 
 Delighted would he pore 
 
 On each dear native flower 
 
 Beside his father's door. 
 
 W^ith happy heart he gazed upon the splendor 
 
 Of regal autumn in the crimson woods; 
 With happy heart he saw the beauty tender 
 Of budding life in vernal solitudes. 
 His artist soul was thrilled 
 With visions of delight, 
 His waking fancy filled 
 
 W'ith dreams and longings bright. 
 
 And when at last he stood at manhood's portal 
 And passed forever from these meadows dear, 
 Perchance his visions of a fame immortal 
 Were not unmingled with regret sincere. 
 Wherever he might roam 
 
 In lands beyond the sea, 
 Still would his childhood's home 
 Not unremembered be. 
 
 28 
 
THE UESr HOrSE 
 
 And now amonj;- tlic mighty he is l>'ing 
 
 Where Wren's cathedral dreams 'mid London's roa 
 Companioned with a company undying 
 His is a name to hve forevermore! 
 Hard by Lud's ancient gate 
 
 Where England's life-tide sweeps, 
 Entombed with England's great 
 The Quaker Painter sleeps. 
 
 And thee, old House, that slumberest serenely, 
 
 We cherish as the Painter's boyhood home; 
 With tender care 3'on College young and queenly 
 Doth shadow thee with her protecting dome. 
 In academic shades 
 
 The Artist's fame shall last; 
 Here Glory never fades, 
 Nor reverence for the Past! 
 
 So, ancient House, rare memories are gleaming, 
 
 Sweet recollections of the vanished hours. 
 While through the silent summer thou art dreanung 
 Enfolded by thy trees and meadow-flowers. 
 Bright visions of old da>s 
 
 Still cheer thy lonely heart 
 Seen through the hallowed haze 
 Where thou dost muse apart! 
 
 29 
 
"BEATUS ILLE" 
 
 O BLEST the peace that falls 
 In solitudes serene, 
 Where ivied college walls 
 
 Rise o'er the tranquil green; 
 And blest the ardent j-outh 
 Who climbs the hills of Truth 
 
 And basks awhile in Wisdom's wide demesne! 
 
 The noises of the world 
 
 His musings may not mar, 
 Nor darkling smoke upcurled 
 
 From clangorous marts afar; 
 While fragrant and more dear 
 He finds each golden year 
 
 Upon the leaves of Youth's white calendar. 
 
 Here may he converse hold 
 
 With men of mighty name, 
 The deathless ones of old 
 
 And seers of starry fame; 
 View Plato's page divine, 
 And ponder at the shrine 
 
 Whence Homer's sons have born the sacred flame. 
 
 From old primeval tales 
 
 The honey he may seize, 
 Dream in Arcadian vales 
 
 Or 'neath Sicilian trees; 
 
 30 
 
P 9* 
 
 
 .^- 
 
 •'Stillneis pyevaih and ihady soliliiite" 
 
''BEATrS ILLE" 
 
 Hear Dido's plaint forlorn, 
 Or Roland's thunderous horn 
 
 Resounding through the misty centuries! 
 
 With measures musical 
 
 The minstrels of old time 
 Shall hold him willing thrall 
 
 To golden-hearted rhyme; 
 Shakespeare's eternal scroll 
 Enchant his deepest soul, 
 
 And Milton move with harmony sublime. 
 
 The annals of the earth. 
 
 Antiquity's gray streams. 
 Shall give his fancy birth 
 
 And touch his heart to dreams; 
 The glories of the vast 
 Immeasurable Past 
 
 Fill all his vision with undying gleams! 
 
 Nature, the genial nurse, 
 
 His guiding-star shall be; 
 Through all the universe 
 
 Her radiance may he see; 
 And she will bid him hear 
 With spiritual ear 
 
 The music of her endless symphony. 
 
 Nor shall he miss the flowers 
 That grow his way along. 
 
 33 
 
SWARTHMOKE IDYLLS 
 
 Speeding the sunny hours * 
 
 With merriment and song; , 
 
 Or training heart and eye 
 
 In emulation high 
 
 On happy meads where friendly rivals throng. 
 
 So day by golden day 
 
 More luminous and bright 
 Shall glow the steadfast ray 
 
 That sets his soul alight: 
 With Peace and Purity 
 His comradeship shall be, 
 
 And Faith that leads him on from height to height. 
 
 Then when Life sunnnons him, 
 
 With bounding hope he hears, 
 And yet his eyes are dim 
 
 With honorable tears, 
 As with reluctant feet 
 He leaves the.se precincts sweet. 
 
 This .sanctuary of his vernal }-ears. 
 
 O blest the peace that falls 
 
 In cloistered shades serene, 
 Where ivied college walls 
 
 Rise o'er the silent green; 
 And happy is the youth 
 Who climbs the hills of Truth 
 
 And basks awhile in Wisdom's fair demesne! 
 
 34 
 
THE MOTHER'S GIFTS* 
 
 OWHAT have ye gained in these shady Ijowers 
 That nourished your fervent youth; 
 What gifts has the Mother Revered of us all 
 Bestowed on the children who leave her to-day ? 
 Has she bidden you take to your hearts calm Truth, 
 And Honor with clear unwavering eyes, 
 And their sister Faith that ever points to the skies ? 
 Has she made you responsive, emotional, 
 Touching your souls with a music fine, 
 Attuning )^our ears to the harmony 
 Of Nature's rolling cadences divine? 
 
 Has she opened wide the magical door 
 
 Whence ye looked on ancient and god-like men; 
 
 Inscribed for you with immortal pen 
 
 Socratic wisdom, Shakespearian lore? 
 
 Has she given a courage pure that can never 
 
 Suffer ignoble counsel or sordid aim, — 
 
 So leading 3'ou to lo\-e forever 
 
 Righteousness, Reverence, Beauty, and Peace, and Fame, 
 
 And to seek for these with endless, high endeavor? 
 
 Comrades ours, this century old and gray 
 Soon to the mighty Past will be gone, 
 To another age and a better giving way. 
 Joy to you may the coming century bring ! 
 Yours is the hope of that radiant dawn, 
 
 ■■■From an Ode to the Class of i8qS 
 
 35 
 
.9 IFA R THMORE ID J 'Z LS 
 
 Yours the hope of that beautiful spring ! 
 
 Whether your fields of life be far or near, 
 
 By native valley or hill, or beyond the seas, 
 
 Give freely, O generous hearts, of your best; 
 
 Enrich the world with your gifts of courage and cheer. 
 
 Uplift the world with your tender ministries. 
 
 Untiring in noble deed and exalted quest ! 
 
 These be the words that shall guide you aright, 
 
 Words of the leader whose coming we honor to-night, — 
 
 " To fee/, to k)io7L\ a)id to do.'" 
 
 O cherish and follow that maxim your lifetime through: 
 
 Feel, kium', and do, — and your harvest-home shall be 
 
 Beautiful, perfect, and free! 
 
 3G 
 
'■ // 'here windeth yoniifv s(i cinn 
 PeaieJuUy as in a dream"' 
 
IN COLLEGE DAYS 
 
 TN COI.LEGE days,— 
 -*- Ah, what a spell. 
 
 Dear words, doth in your music dwell, 
 As recollection bears us back 
 Along our springtime's golden track, 
 When life was young and youth was sweet. 
 And time flew by with winged feet; 
 When Hope reached forth her kindly hand, 
 And all the world was like a wonderland ! 
 
 In college days, — 
 
 The glowing life, 
 The healthful games, the friendly strife, 
 The pluck that made our rivals yield 
 Full oftentimes on track and field. 
 When heartened by our sisters fair 
 We raised the Garnet high in air. 
 And oh ! the balmy month of May, 
 When we sat at close of day 
 Underneath the college trees 
 Chanting all the olden glees, 
 Or strolled where windeth yonder stream 
 Peacefully as in a dream. 
 Here we watched the purple dawn 
 Lighting all the sloping lawn, 
 Touching with its tender red 
 The far-ofT river's silver thread. 
 
 39 
 
SWARTHMORE IDYLLS 
 
 Here we watched the leafy spring 
 Wake to hfe each tender thing, 
 Saw the rains of April spill 
 From crocus-cup and daffodil; 
 Through the dreamy autumn-tide 
 Roamed across the country-side, 
 Where the purple vapor fills 
 All the morning's misty hills, 
 While the fruits were waxing mellow 
 And the corn-fields waning j'ellow. 
 Winter's beauty charmed us, too. 
 With its riot winds that blew — 
 Sounding through the swaging trees 
 Wild, majestic symphonies. 
 'Twas then we saw the pane embossed 
 With the magic of the frost. 
 Watched the soft snow drifting down 
 Hiding all the landscape brown; 
 And, shod with steel, went fleeting o'er 
 The sleeping Crum's smooth, icy floor. 
 And thus we found each season dear 
 That rounded out the sweet and lingering year. 
 
 In college days, — 
 
 What precious hours 
 We spent in gentle Wisdom's bowers! — 
 Nourishing our eager youth 
 With lofty messages of truth, 
 Pondering the rote and rule 
 
 40 
 
IN COLLEGE DAYS 
 
 Of each philosophic school, 
 Musing much upon the vast 
 Epic story of the Past, 
 And seeking for the primal cause 
 Of nature's universal laws. 
 But best of all, — O sweet and long 
 Our sojourn with the sons of song! — 
 Faring o'er the storied sea 
 In gray Homer's company, 
 Listening to the epic lay 
 Sung in Rome's imperial da^', 
 Chaucer's warblings sweet as rains 
 In old England's April lanes, 
 Spenser's golden-cadenced line, 
 Milton's melody divine, 
 And the many-voiced string 
 Of him whom all men hail as Poet-King. 
 
 In college days, — 
 
 Ah, comrades, when 
 Come those golden hours again ? 
 Come they e'er, save through the haze 
 Of our dreams of yesterdays, — 
 Recollections sweet and old 
 On the inmost heart enrolled ? 
 — When the joys of life shall pall 
 And the shadows round us fall. 
 When our vessels' sails are furled 
 From our voyaging down the world, — 
 
 41 
 
SWARTHMQRE IDYLLS 
 
 Looking back through smiles and tears 
 On tlie unforgotten years, 
 None more joyous shall we see 
 Than the years that used to be 
 In college days! 
 
 42 
 

 f^'^; 
 
 
 
 ;:-» 
 
 / ""/ -^^ 
 
 " T/if quiet Meeting-house beside 
 The grove on Szvarthmore^ s peaceful hilV 
 
IN SWARTHMORE MEETING 
 
 THOUGH Swarthmore's children wander wide, 
 In memory they cherish still 
 The quiet Meeting-house beside 
 The grove on Swarthmore's peaceful liill. 
 
 In this still home of quietude 
 The worldly spirit fades away; 
 To sober thought we frame our mood 
 Here on each tranquil Sabbath day. 
 
 No ritual these precincts know, 
 Unless it be when j'onder trees 
 Responding to soft winds that blow 
 Chant forth their leafy litanies. 
 
 And though no organ shake the air, 
 No hymns uplift melodious words. 
 Yet wandering breezes hither bear 
 The anthems of the happ\- birds. 
 
 And here in musings deep and true 
 Communing silently apart, 
 We dedicate ourselves anew 
 And feel a quickening of the heart. 
 
 O rich the man}- offerings brought 
 And yielded on the listening air. 
 The poet's pure immortal thought. 
 The .sage's precept large and fair! 
 
 45 
 
SWARTHMORE IDYLLS 
 
 And rich the messages of truth 
 
 From riper souls among us here, 
 
 Sweet words that still the doubts of youth 
 
 And point the path of dut}* clear. 
 
 What seeds of good those words may be 
 
 In this retired and holy time, 
 
 Amid so fair a company 
 
 In life's receptive, ardent prime! 
 
 Though Swarthmore's children wander wide, 
 
 In memory they cherish still 
 
 The quiet Meeting-house beside 
 
 The grove on Swarthmore's peaceful hill. 
 
 46 
 
A PORTRAIT OF LUCRETIA MOTT* 
 
 I LOOK on that serene and saintly face 
 And mark the peaceful beauty pictured there; 
 In that calm countenance no weight of care 
 Nor darkness of distress could e'er displace 
 Or overshade the sweet, old-fashioned grace. 
 She seems an angel sent to do and dare, 
 A gentle martyr fortified to bear 
 Truth's sorest trials. Yet here is no sad trace 
 Of her life's battles; from those tranquil eyes 
 There beams a perfect peace. O noble soul. 
 What do not Truth and Freedom owe to thee! 
 Thy name we love, thy memorj- we prize; 
 And round thy brow we see the aureole 
 That crowned thy life of sweet philanthropy. 
 
 "Painted by the late William Henry Furness, and presented 
 to Swarthmore College by liis father, the late Rev. William H. 
 Furness 
 
 47 
 
HOPE, TRUST, BELIEVE!* 
 
 HOPE, trust, believe! Look not with doubting ej'es, 
 Nor muse on wasted or on fruitless days; 
 Take courage new, and fix the steadfast gaze 
 On sunny mountain peaks and the pure skies, 
 In whose unsullied depths all glory lies. 
 Like high-souled pilgrims let no forest's maze 
 Entangle your sure feet, no valley's haze 
 Bedim your vision of the far-off prize. 
 
 O valiant hearts and young, the rosy dawn 
 
 Is yours to-day, and yours life's beaut)' vernal; 
 
 Nor shall their primal radiance be withdrawn, 
 
 If in sweet consecration you receive 
 
 And cherish as a talisman eternal, 
 
 The message of that morn, "Hope, trust, believe!" 
 
 '■•'On an address to the students by Lyman Abbott, February 9, 1899 
 
 48 
 
WE WHO DWELL IN SIGHT OF THEE 
 
 TTAPPY are we who dwell in sight of thee, 
 
 ■*--*- Dear Swarthniore, — with thy stately domes that rise 
 
 Serene as the encircling summer skies, 
 
 Thy storied ivies and each memoried tree. 
 
 Thy green that fades into the far-off lea, 
 
 Those woods that golden autumn glorifies. 
 
 And yon deep western vale where softly dies 
 
 The winter sun in lingering majesty! 
 
 Thy joyous children we, for whom the years 
 Are bounteous of the things that perish not, — 
 Friendships, sweet ministries, and true content. 
 Close linked together by the sentiment 
 Of love for thee, we share our joys and tears. 
 Nor ask the Father for a happier lot. 
 
 49 
 
TITANIA AND BOTTOM* 
 
 'T'V /HAT charm and beauty in that sylvan scene! 
 VV We were forgetful of the world a space 
 The while we marked the spiritual grace 
 Of airy elves around their winsome Queen, 
 There in the dim, deep, moonlit forest green; 
 And but for Bottom with his monstrous face, — 
 Earth's one intrusion on that fairy place, — 
 It were a dream, harmonious and serene. 
 
 Shakespearian beauty and Shakespearian wit 
 
 In this immortal comedy combine, — 
 
 A pageant fair of mirth and melod}', 
 
 Wherein the Bard with wondrous hand hath knit, 
 
 In link on link of fragrant poesy, 
 
 The union of the earthly and divine! 
 
 '''Shakespeare Evening, 1898 
 
 50 
 

 
 ft* 
 
 .'r-"'*!"* 
 ■^ 
 
 \l|-^ 
 
 1, 
 
 V;Vt 
 
 ' H'/it'?i Cruni ifimis shu- by hanks of violets" 
 
THE ASPHALTUM-MAKERS* 
 
 WHEN the pale sun had sunk behind the wood 
 And deepening shadows crept across the snow, 
 I watched the wearied laborers come and go 
 As each his own appointed task pursued. 
 How strangely in that twilight solitude 
 Each common, unpoetic thing did show, — 
 The rusty furnace with its lurid glow, 
 The barrows and the piles of fagots rude. 
 The dark pitch-mounds! — Upon them one and all 
 The hand of sentiment had laid its spell. 
 And as I heard the mellow evening bell 
 In soft and measured cadence rise and fall, 
 I mused on Fancy's power to glorify 
 The lowliest objects that around us lie! 
 
 ^Renewing the long College walk, December, 1S98 
 
 53 
 
TO CANON RAWNSLEY* 
 
 '' I ^HOU gav'st us golden words that golden day, — 
 -*- Thou spiritual scion of the Seer 
 Who made the English lakes forever dear, 
 The English mountains memorable for aye. 
 We seemed to hear from lonely summits gray. 
 From fell and murmurous tarn and tranquil mere. 
 Echoes of that great Voice serene and clear 
 Whose message is a solace and a stay! 
 
 The world hath need of calming words like those 
 
 In this her troubled hour of haste and heat; 
 
 Childlike in their simplicity, and sweet, 
 
 They come with consolation and repose. 
 
 In grateful memory, then, we cherish thee, — 
 
 Apostle of Wordsworth's deep tranquillity! 
 
 *After hi.s address at Uie College, on Wordsworth's Message, October 
 i8, iSgg 
 
 54 
 
SWARTHMORE, FAIREST!* 
 
 SWARTHMORE, fairest ! 
 Ah, to thee 
 Must m}- earliest ofFeriugs be, — 
 To thee upon thy grass)- hill 
 'Mid thy meadows sweet and still. 
 With thy charms that dearer grow 
 As the hasting seasons go. 
 In the summer of my youth 
 Drank I at thy founts of truth. 
 Joying in the ample store 
 Thou didst ever freely pour, — 
 Lessons out of Nature's page, 
 Words of scholar and of sage. 
 And the love of poets old 
 Chanting numbers all of gold. 
 Happy years and dreamy-sweet, 
 Happy years, but all too fleet ! 
 Holding these in memory 
 I inscribe my Book to thee. 
 
 ■■'Dedication of The Old-Fashioned Garden and Other I'erses 
 
THE GREY OLDE MANNE OF DREAMES 
 
 SENEX. DISCIPULUS. 
 
 Senex. f~\ WAL Y, ivaly by the Briggc 
 
 ^-^ That spannes the sleepic Criimmc! 
 And waly by the woodsy de Rockes 
 \ \ lirrc Profs did never eome! 
 
 Diseipulus. Now, Senex, saye, what can thee aj'le, 
 And why thy niournfulle Cry, 
 Whenas the Lilye's on the Lea, 
 The Larke ymounted hj'e ? 
 
 Why onlye dost thou moane 
 
 Alone 
 Upon the mossie Stone ? 
 
 Senex. Ah, (,'ossyp, never canst thou knowe 
 What carefulle Carke is myne. 
 Who for the Dayes that are no moe 
 Do pityfullie p3'ne. 
 
 And syttinge all alone 
 
 Do moane 
 Upon the mossie Stone! 
 
 Alacke! acrosse my drowzie Dreame 
 Doth portlie Pennell passe. 
 
 Who solde his frostie Lollypoppe 
 At Pennies five a Glasse. 
 
 O 
 
 5(i 
 
THE GREY OLDE DIAXNE OF DREAMES 
 
 O manye an Afternoone 
 Of June 
 I've seene him wielde his Spooiie! 
 
 And that kinde Soule of Janinies and Tartes, 
 
 O Nay- Chi//, where is she, 
 Who tooke us in when sore Exams 
 Did presse luipleasauntlie ? — 
 
 Within whose Doores we stayde 
 
 And made 
 Our Meales on Marmalade. 
 
 O 7va/v bv the Laundric Walk 
 
 Where Pennell iiiont to be! 
 And icaly, ivaly bv the Doore 
 
 Of Raj'-Chell's Nurserie! 
 
 Where once the Tubbe-race drewe the Crowde 
 
 Of Youthe to Cnimme his Bankes, 
 With loftie Mien disdainfullie 
 The Inne-folke pace in Rankes. 
 
 Uncouthe the Race they dubbe 
 
 With Tubbe,— 
 Ah, Gossyp, there's the Ruljbe! 
 
 And nevermoe are hearde in Halle 
 
 Those jocunde Feres, perdie, 
 Who plyde at golden Sette of Sunne 
 
 Their merrie Minstrelsie: 
 
 Gone 
 57 
 
SWARTHMORE WYLLS 
 
 Gone is the mellowe Flute, 
 And mute 
 The softlie-stricken Lute! 
 
 O 'waly for the doughtic Decdes 
 On Crumme his glassie Streame! 
 
 And waly for the Musickc softe 
 That setie myne Heartc adirame.' 
 
 O Dicke and Davie, do ye muse 
 
 Upon those Dayes of Yore, 
 When ye and ly tel Joe and I 
 Were happie Comrades foure ? 
 Like Phantom-formes, alas. 
 
 Ye passe 
 Acrosse my Memorie's glasse! 
 
 Those bonnie Yeares are long j'gone, 
 And Naught unchanged doth byde, 
 Unlesse it be the lytel Oakes 
 The lengthie Walke beside, 
 
 Whereat the Wittie croake 
 
 And poke 
 
 Ful manye a mouldie Joke. 
 
 O waly for the lioneyde Houres 
 That ii'C in Youthe have knowne! 
 
 And waly for the lytel Oakes 
 
 That bare an Inche have growne! 
 
 Ah, 
 
 58 
 
THE GREY OLDE MANNE OF DREAM ES 
 
 Ah, woe and welladaye! my Voyce 
 
 Is all unhearde, meseeras, 
 And by the Younkers am I highte 
 The Grey Olde Manne of Dreames. 
 Loe, fade away I muste, 
 
 Where Duste 
 Doth lie, and Mothe and Ruste! 
 
 59 
 
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