Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/cletails/cu31924021963990 Cornell Unlveralty Library PS 1059.B125P7 1909 Poems, 3 1924 021 963 990 POEMS BY WILLIAM WHITMAN BAILEY PROVIDENCE PRESTON & ROUNDS COMPANY 1909 'J^' t COPYKIGHT, 1909 BY William Whitman Bailey PREFACE IN this foreword I desire to express my sincere and cordial gratitude to those good friends who have countenanced my endeavor. Without their sugges- tion, approval, and aid, I should never have undertaken to issue my poems. As it is, I have excluded more than half the material in hand, using my best judg- ment as to what should be retained. The poems naturally group themselves as I have arranged them ; a plan which I think will commend itself to possible readers ; thus, any one interested in Nature or in Childhood will see at once just where to look for these subjects. As my friends represent many diverse lines of occupation and thought, it seemed only fair, as far as it was possible, to meet these divergencies. The essays cover about forty years. I especially desire to pronounce here my very deep appreciation of the earnest, arduous, and faithful aid given by Mr. Joseph LeRoy Harrison of the Provi- dence Athenaeum. He was the first to urge upon me the publication and has done all in his power to accom- plish its success. To Mr. Howard W. Preston, my pub- lisher, I am also greatly indebted for professional advice and oversight, before and while the book was passing through the press. With much doubt and hesitation, I submit the little volume to the public. W. Whitman Bailey Providence November i, 1909 CONTENTS Poems of Nature PAGE Liverworts .... II Calypso • 14 JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT . . 16 The Bloodroot . 18 Anemone 19 HOUSTONIA 21 Thistle-down • 23 The First Anemone • 25 A Lady's-Slipper 26 Three Pulpits . 28 Blue Curls ..... • 30 Jack-in-the-Pulpit, A Friar • 32 EpiGiEA Asleep • 34 The Golden Nest • 36 Psyche 38 Jack Sleeps in the Pulpit 40 The Last Leaf .... . 42 Two Crowns Imperial • 43 The Painted Cup .... • 44 Innocents ..... . 46 Spring . . . . . 48 The Evening Primrose • 5° 6 CONTENTS PAGE To The Mayflower . 51 The Closed Gentian • 53 October 55 Epig^a • 57 My Riches . 58 The Liverwort • 59 April . 60 My Wealth . . 62 Maples 63 Willow and Alder 64 A Shell . 65 A Tulip . 66 A Fairy Boat . 67 My Shell . 69 My Violets 70 Jack-in-the-Pulpit . . 71 March • 72 Jack Frost ■ 74 Poems of Sentiment Reveille .... A Lady of Cremona Regret To Corinne as Little Buttercup My Ship Thanksgiving Old Santy at Home 79 81 82 83 85 86 CONTENTS PAGE Christmas Eve ...... 90 The Christ-Child . . ... 92 New-Year's Eve .... -94 New- Year's Eve .... 95 Poems of Childhood A Story of Peter Minorie . . 99 Meg ....... loi A Birthday Poem . ... 103 To Meg . . . . 105 My Boy . ... . 106 Meg's Hand ... .107 College Verse The Old Chair . . . .111 To Class of '64, 1870 . . 113 To Class of '64, 1882 . . . 116 Thirtieth Reunion, Class OF 1864 . . .118 To the Class of '64 . . . 120 Alumni Dinner, New York, 1892 . .121 Poems of Psi Upsilon Psi Upsilon ... ... 125 The Ship Psi U . . . 127 A Rainy Night in Psi U . . 129 Address to the Lambda Chapter . 130 New York Psi Upsilon Alumni . . 132 CONTENTS The Chapter House . . -134 Sigma OF Psi Upsilon 136 Near, Yet Far . .138 Sigma Initiation, 1889 . 139 Song to Psi Upsilon . . .141 A Psi U Initiation . ... 142 Sigma Initiation, i8gi . . 145 Alumni Meeting, Sigma of Psi U . . 147 Sod-Raising, Sigma Chapter House . . .148 Opening Sigma Chapter House . 150 Sigma Initiation Psi U, 1894 . 153 Sigma Initiation, 1894 . . .156 A Psi U Enigma ... . 158 Dinner to Judge Francis N. Finch 160 Mother, Dear, Psi Upsilon . 162 Sigma Initiation, 1903 . 164 For Sigma Smoker, 1904 . . 166 At Sigma Initiation, October, 1895 . 168 Sigma Initiation, 1905 . . 171 Mr. Talbot's Fiftieth Anniversary . . 175 The Flag of Psi U . .177 Initiation at Sigma, 1899 . 179 Sigma Initiation, 1907 . 181 Sigma Initiation, 1900 . . 184 By transfer The White House March 3rd, 1913 POEMS OF NATURE LIVERWORTS U LIVERWORTS THEY are laughing in the meadow, They are smiling in the dell ; Upon the woody hilltops The blue-eyed beauties dwell ; And unto those who love them, A pleasant tale they tell. They speak of sunny weather. Of birds and babbling brooks ; Of walks within the forest. And rest within its nooks ; And many a dreamy fancy Recorded not in books. In sweetest maiden beauty They mischievously peep. And laugh at later flowers Unwakened from their sleep, While tenderly they guard them And loving vigils keep. 12 LIVERWORTS Mid fallen leaves and withered Some blush along the way, While others fleck the meadows, Or by the fountains stray. In white or blue habiliments To greet the April day. At frolic seem they ever ; Now hiding from my sight. And then together clustering. As if in half affright, Yet conscious of their holiday And happy in the light. None other coming flowers To me are dear as they. Of those that bloom in April, Or in the genial May. I would that thus to comfort me They evermore would stay. For tales of vanished childhood To me they sweetly sing, And to my fading memory They recollections bring Of home and loving faces, A precious offering. LIVERWORTS 13 Unpluck'd I leave them growing Full thick about my feet, I cannot call them town-ward From out their fair retreat ; No refuge has the city For anything so sweet. The story that they tell to me Of pleasure and content ; Of hope and trusting confidence, However faith is bent ; This lesson I can bear away ; To teach it were they sent. 14 CALYPSO CALYPSO (A rare orchid of the North) CALYPSO, goddess of an olden time, (I learn it not from any Grecian rhyme, And yet the story I can vouch is true), Beneath a pine-tree lost her dainty shoe. No workmanship of mortal can compare With what's exhibited in beauty there. And looking at the treasure 'neath the tree, The goddess's self I almost hope to see. The tints of purple and the texture fine ; The curves of beauty shown in every line ; With fringes exquisite of golden hue. Perfect the wonders of the fairy shoe. The goddess surely must have been in haste, Like Daphne fleeing when Apollo chased, And losing here her slipper by the way, Intends to find it on another day. CALYPSO 15 And will she come to seek it here, or no ? The day is lengthening but I cannot go Until I see her bring the absent mate Of this rare beauty, though the time is late. I watch, but still no classic form I see ; Nought but the slipper 'neath the forest tree, And so, for fear of some purloining elf, The precious relic I secure myself ! 16 JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT WITHIN his pulpit, striped with green and red, Jack, the itinerant, lifts his shaven head ; Absorbed he stands in quiet thought a time, But as the bell-worts ring the Sunday chime, I mark him closely, and he seems to say To all the plants about him, " Let us pray ! " His voice is low, and yet I seem to hear His supplication and his words of cheer ; His sermons and his songs of joyous praise, In thanks to Heaven for its wondrous ways. And when I seek my homeward path, I know He gives his benediction as I go. He softly whispers as I turn away — " I make you welcome to my church to-day. In olden times I often spoke to men, And they would listen with indulgence then. But now, there 's scarcely more than one a year. Who comes to worship in my temple here. JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT 17 " Though I can preach with faith upHfted higher Within the hearing of my forest choir The voice of tree-toads, and the warbler's trill, The leaves' faint murmur and the whispering rill, Than I could do within the city there. With all the approbation of the fair. " My raiment is uncouth, my pulpit queer. But no one heeds them in the wild-wood here. The squirrels listen, and the dusty bee Pauses from labor, and attends to me. His joyous course the butterfly delays ; The wood-thrush pauses in his song of praise." Eccentric preacher, you shall have your will, And I '11 be constant in attendance still. If you'll allow me here my mossy seat. On other Sundays when your hearers meet. So, Jack, your reverence, take my kind adieu, My best of wishes shall abide with you ! THE BLOODROOT THE BLOODROOT A TENDER plantlet, often seen In springtime, up the dark ravine, The bloodroot, with its star of glory Recalls old Vergil's tragic story, For, lo ! the roots begin to bleed If one but touch the charming weed. And listening, we expect once more. The plaintive wail of Polydore. So white, so pure, so fair to see, Alas ! can sin have tempted thee ? What horrid story can'st thou tell Concerning this romantic dell ? Thy error must indeed be great To cause this pitiable fate. Cannot the blessed dew or rain Wipe out the much-offending stain ? Unhappy blossom, when shall rest The sorrow that disturbs thy breast ? ANEMONE 19 ANEMONE AWAKE, Anemone ! Awake again I xV The sunshine sparkles on the dropping rain, The sky is azure, and the storm is o'er ; Awake, Anemone ! Awake once more I Awake, Anemone ! Awake from sleep ! Thy sister beauties from the mosses peep ; The tasseled alders dust me o'er with gold, Awake, Anemone 1 thy day is old ! Awake, Anemone 1 Dost slumber still ? I hear the music of the lapsing rill, I see the willow's silky tips appear ; Awake, Anemone ! the spring is here I Awake, Anemone ! Why sleepest yet ? Thy tinted sepals with the dew are wet ; A tear-drop lingers on thy trembling leaf ; Awake, Anemone ! thy time is brief 1 20 ANEMONE Awake, Anemone ! in beauty rise ! Reveal thy wonders to my longing eyes ; For thee, my darling, I expectant wait ; Awake, Anemone ! ere yet too late 1 HOUSTONIA 21 H OU STON I A HOUSTONIA, the delicate, Among us soon will be ; Her lilac cross exhibiting For worshippers to see. Who stroll into the meadows, Perhaps like you and me. The blossoms gather socially, As is the custom, when We meet upon the corners. In groups of nine or ten, To gossip of the weather Or of our fellow-men. A few, who seem the speakers. Their heads aloft uprear, While others bending over. The listeners appear. O, would that we could chronicle The news they seem to hear I 22 HOUSTONIA Alas ! we cannot understand Their words of weal or woe, Their pleasant stories of the field And how they daily grow. The work that is allotted them We mortals cannot know. THISTLE-DOWN 23 THISTLE-DOWN THISTLE-DOWN, Thistle-down, whither away ! Can you not linger for one little day ? Wait till to-morrow, my Thistle-down, do ! And if I am ready, I'll fly away, too ! We'll have such a journey as never was seen ; Now o'er the billows, and then o'er the green ; Now in the meadow, and then on the hill. Flying and floating, and flitting at will ! And some little cloud we'll together pursue, That seems to be losing itself in the blue ; The dragon-fly chase as he skims o'er the lake ; The emigrant birds from the North overtake. We '11 learn where the rainbow begins, and its gold That is buried thereunder, together behold ; Now, does n't this tempt you, my Thistle-down, bright. To pause for a day from your wandering flight ? 24 THISTLE-DOWN Will nothing delay you ? Has Nature a need Entrusted alone to your gossamer seed ? Then, hasten away to your dance in the wind ; And leave me all lonely and longing behind 1 THE FIRST ANEMONE 25 THE FIRST ANEMONE HIDDEN under bushes, shrinking from the hght, Lo ! a meek anemone, hiding from my sight, April's dariing treasure, in the lap of May, Shivering in the breezes of the vernal day. Where have you been tarrying, blossom of my heart ? Coy girl Anemone, blushing here apart ? In a dew-drop mirror have you sought to look ? Did you dip your fingers in the laughing brook ? Do not tell me, lassie, you have been asleep ; Dreaming of the summer, in the mosses deep ! I could then have found you, blooming there alone. Caught you, and claimed you, for my very own. Bashful Anemone ! I shall hold you fast, May has now resigned you to my care at last. Never to leave you in the wind and wet ; Never to forsake you, never to forget ! 26 A LADY'S-SLIPPER A LADY'S-SLIPPER PERHAPS Titania, wandering by the way, Espied this slipper in her path one day, A yellow sandal, striped with bands of red, And stitched with many a mystic golden thread. She doffed her satin wonder of a shoe — Beyond the beauties that we mortals knew. And left it here, by elfin wishes blessed, A peerless sandal that a queen has pressed. Or is this slipper gleaming in the grass. Fair Cinderella's tiny shoe of glass .? May be the Prince, who never can forget His lovely partner, seeks its fellow yet. Or did some Indian Princess, in the chase. Leave here a relic of her dusky race ? A beaded buskin, set with gems and gold, A prize indeed, for any sachem bold 1 A LADY'S-SLIPPER 27 I think no mortal can attain the gifts This wondrous treasure from the ground to Hft, The tale may yet be told by fairy pen, We leave its mystery unrevealed till then. 28 THREE PULPITS THREE PULPITS THREE painted pulpits, close to the ground, Three little preachers looking around. Each pretty violet lifting her head, Eager to learn what each of them said. Butterfly sextons the lily-bells ring. The wee congregation together to bring, One dainty blossom, in haste to her pew, Lost her silk slipper, O what shall she do ? The Trillium nods to the sermon asleep ; Perhaps he has drunk of the painted cup, deep. And if a collection is now taken up, In lieu of the coin is gold butter-cup. Through birch and beech windows the sunny day shines. The organ is sounded by fair columbines. The birds are the choir, the clerk is a bee, I hope when he rises, he '11 fail to see me. THREE PULPITS 29 Bumble-beedle, they call him, the daring profane, He chides the plant Olivers, asking again, And if he doth catch me in seeking for "more," I'll seem to be sleeping and utter a snore. Three little preachers are silent to men, But if we don't hear them and heed them, what then ? Their own congregation is surely much better. To do their whole duty in spirit and letter. 30 BLUECURLS BLUE CURLS THE tint of the sky Has been given to you ; In your sweet little eye And your bonnet of blue, In the shade of your gown, In your dress, in your hair, In your gems, in your crown. There is blue everywhere. Was Blue-Beard your father, My pretty Blue Curls ? They say he was rather Too partial to girls ; What charm of his daughter Induced him to spare From general slaughter Thy maidenhood fair ? Did he love your poor mother. The dearest and best. Who for some whim or other He sent to her rest ? BLUECURLS 31 Did he dote on your tresses, The hue of his beard ? Did he seek your caresses, Or was he afeared ? However he ended. In sorrow or glee, No sin has descended From him upon thee ; No crimsoning stain Of his scimitar wild Shall ever remain On his innocent child. 32 JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT, A FRIAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT, A FRIAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT, The Reverend Jack, On the church of his fathers Now turneth his back ; A penitent hermit. With hmited needs. He counts with devotion, His rosary beads. No longer in garments Of green and of black, A simpler attire Sufficeth for Jack ; And even his pulpit. That once was his pride, For humbler surroundings He now puts aside. I did not suppose That my Methodist John The robes of a friar Would ever put on ; JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT, A FRIAR 33 With bell and with candle Would celebrate mass, Or hear a confession, Alas 1 John, alas 1 These new-fangled notions O, Jack, will not do For such simple bodies As look up to you ; But they will forgive you If you will remain ; Then come to the arms Of your people again. I think you in Spring-time Will surely return To your orthodox habits. For which you must yearn, And when the Anemones Look in your eyes For comfort and hope, You'll repent and be wise. 34 EPIG^A ASLEEP EPIG^A ASLEEP ARBUTUS lies beneath the snows. While winter waits her brief repose, And says, " No fairer flower grows ! " Of sunny April days she dreams, Of robins' notes and murmuring streams, And smiling in her sleep she seems. She thinks her rosy buds expand Beneath the touch of childhood's hand, And beauty breathes throughout the land. The arching alders bending o'er The silent river's sandy shore, Their golden tresses trim once more. The pussy-willows in their play Their varnished caps have flung away, And hung their furs on every spray. The toads their cheery music chant. The squirrel seeks his summer haunt. And life revives in every plant. EPIG^A ASLEEP 35 " I must awake ! I hear the bee ! The butterfly I long to see ! The buds are bursting on the tree 1 " Ah ! blossom, thou art dreaming, dear, The wild winds howl about thee here. The dirges of the dying year 1 Thy gentle eyes with tears are wet ; In sweeter sleep these pains forget ; Thy merry morning comes not yet I 36 THE GOLDEN NEST THE GOLDEN NEST AT Colchis once, in days of old, xV Brave Jason sought the fleece of gold, And wandering through the woodland green Beheld afar its shimmering sheen. The tiny birds who watched the sight. Were filled with emulous delight, And in their songs, from sire to son. Recounted how the deed was done. At length a precious prize they found ; A maiden's golden hair unbound. And with its filmy fibres spread The curtains of their nuptial bed. To them the lustrous lock was deemed The place of which the poets dreamed. While she, of priceless gift bereft, Has never known the cunning theft. THE GOLDEN NEST 37 Yet travelers, sauntering in the glade, Astonished, view the cradle swayed By murmurous winds, which ne'er reveal The secret which the birds conceal. 38 PSYCHE PSYCHE To Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman (To the Greeks Psyche was a butterfly and was also the Soul) I SPOKE last evening to a doubting lady. Of the moth Luna, of its size and beauty ; " Find me this wonder in some woodland shady," She said ; and I went forth unto my duty. Yet had her light behest passed from me wholly When sauntering townward through a forest way, I saw upon a shrub that blossomed lowly. The lovely Luna in her green array. Like some sweet soul but newly passed the portal. Her early chrysalis she had disdained, And with the impulse of a thing immortal. She strove to use the wings she had attained. PSYCHE 39 But maybe newborn spirits lack the power Of flight, at once, within that better sphere, Nor can they free themselves within the hour. From things that bind them to existence here. " ' Tis Psyche ! ' tis the Soul ! " I said, " Eureka I '■ " It is a spirit from the shadowy land ; That doubting lady, I'll arise and seek her. That she may be convinced and understand." I went ; she saw, and at it marvelled duly. Nor wonders now at my triumphant praise ; She frankly owns that I had spoken truly, And God is great in his mysterious 'ways. 40 JACK SLEEPS IN THE PULPIT JACK SLEEPS IN THE PULPIT OUR quaint little preacher Is hidden away, Asleep 'neath the leaves Till the sunshiny May Awakes all the flowers To frolic and play Though he is sleeping, His sermons will take. Unhidden, a form In his dream till he wake ; Be silent in falling then Each downy flake I So long as the flowers Are such giddy things ; While the fell dragon flies Flutter on wings, A reason for preaching Each vernal time brings. JACK SLEEPS IN THE PULPIT 41 The parish is large. The duties are great ; The priest must be active Both early and late, And save all the erring From whatever fate. 42 THE LAST LEAF THE LAST LEAF I'VE bathed in April showers ; I've welcomed summer flowers ; I've blushed in autumn sun, To think what I have done. Now my days are o'er, I'll never whisper more My story in the breeze To all the listening trees. Now I gladly go, Friends are lying low. Ah I the time is brief For mortal and for leaf. I end my trembling quest — I've gained the promised rest — At peace with all to die, Thou sad old world, goodbye 1 TWO CROWNS IMPERIAL 43 TWO CROWNS IMPERIAL TWO crowns imperial for me I To part with either I am loth, And yet I think you will agree, I surely cannot wear them both. Were I Germania's Kaiser boy, I might perhaps the thing contrive. The dual baubles to enjoy. And make my double kingdom thrive. But as a child of Yankee birth, These coronets of fatal gleam Excite my democratic mirth, But not ambition's vaulting dream. I'll keep them for the giver's sake. Apart upon my curio shelf. No tyrant hand the crowns shall take. Ere that, I'll wear them both myself I 44 THE PAINTED CUP THE PAINTED CUP THE fairy king in wrath one day, His mystic chalice flung away, For, though with nectar half filled up. He scorned to touch the painted cup. Yet, if by brooks I pause to drink, His beaker stands upon the brink. And in the crystal far below I see it's evanescent glow. It lures me through the marshy ground It's scarlet splendor all around. And I could wish the cruel fay Would take his sinful cup away. Forever, now, with wine deep dyed, I see it by the river side. Betraying by its tempting gleam All such as wander by the stream. THE PAINTED CUP 45 No fay comes seeking through the sedge, Perhaps the king has signed the pledge, For reddened by its brilliant stains, Untasted still the cup remains. 46 INNOCENTS INNOCENTS YE bright little Innocents, Gathered in play. Have you been sleeping This many a day ? Hid you your faces So gentle and shy When fiercely the tempest Was hurrying by ? Did you wear your blue bonnets When under the sleet ? Alas ! had you nothing To cover your feet ? Did you cluster together To keep out the cold ? Did any rash blossom Her petals unfold ? Have you seen Epigsea When taking her nap ? Or fair Pussy-willow In ermine and cap ? INNOCENTS 47 Has Alder her tresses Combed out in the breeze ? Have pretty young maple buds Blushed from the trees ? I see you all whispering And nodding together As other folks do In this glorious weather ; But what you are saying I really can't tell, So, beautiful blossoms, I bid you farewell 1 48 SPRING SPRING THE toads in the marshes Are tuning their throats, The robins are chanting Their merriest notes ; The alders are combing Their tresses of gold, And bees in their rambles Are busy and bold. The pussy-cat willows Are downy and soft. The maple is swinging Its censers aloft ; The first dandelion Has burst into bloom, And breezes are full of The richest perfume. The pretty Mayflower Has waked from her nap, The innocence smiles From her violet cap. SPRING 49 The liverwort gazes In girlish surprise, With a look both of shame And of fear in her eyes. The Saxifrage hastens Fair April to greet, The Blood-root looks down On her suffering feet, The yellow Five-fingers Are gemming the green, And Violets lovingly Blooming between. The Columbines ringing Their musical knells. To winter are flinging Their happy farewells ; For spring with its sunshine And beauty is here, And everything welcomes The opening year. 50 THE EVENING PRIMROSE THE EVENING PRIMROSE 1 STOOD in awe before a simple flower, Expanding silently at evening hour, And watched to see each petal fair unfold To form, at length, a perfect cross of gold. I merely whispered, " It is sacred ground ; The Holy Grail I now, at length, have found ! No longer need I weary in the quest. My search is o'er ; behold the perfect rest ! TO THE MAYFLOWER 51 TO THE MAYFLOWER BENEATH protecting leaves, Secure from prying thieves, Fair Epigaea's face Reveals its maiden grace. When cruel winter goes. And sunshine melts the snows, She lifts her gentle head. And peeps from out her bed. Half coy, and half slighting. Her glance is all inviting. She does not seek to hide, Nor dares she yet confide. Sweet blossom, do not fear, I'll leave thee growing here ; I love thee far too well. Thy whispered thought to tell. 52 TO THE MAYFLOWER Live safe beside the way, The spot I'll ne'er betray, But, though I fail to speak, Thy home I'll often seek. THE CLOSED GENTIAN 53 THE CLOSED GENTIAN FAIR Gentian, come, thy secret to me tell. What dost thou hide within thy azure cell ? What sacred treasure keep from human view Beyond the curtains of thy blossom blue ? Are thy sweet eyes forever closed in sleep ? Cannot thy lover take one little peep ? Or dost thou grant alone unto the bee To thus commune in silent thought with thee ? Some say, thou art Pandora's box of old, That all the troubles of the world did hold ; I wonder now if underneath thy cope. Remains, as then, one fond and lingering hope, The scarlet cardinal in his pomp and pride. His priestly terrors long in vain has tried ; He cannot wrest confession of a sin. Or hope thy trembling, gentle soul to win. 54 THE CLOSED GENTIAN I think a sorrow, not a sin, concealed, Thou wilt at last to tender pleading yield. And he will hear who learns thy secret then, A tale of love unknown to other men. OCTOBER 55 OCTOBER THE leaves are falling one by one, The clematis has nearly spun Her feathery cap, and golden ferns Are seen where'er the woodsman turns. 'Tis pleasant now "in good greenwood," Where, like some errant Robin Hood, We wander walking all day long, Or wake the forest glades with song. Upon the stream in silence floats The leafy fleet of fairy boats. And far above, in azure sky. The clouds, like ships, go sailing by ; The asters, with the golden-rod. Beside the pathways smile and nod. And gentian's eye of tenderest blue Laughs through its fringed lids at you. 56 OCTOBER Soon all these beauties will have fled, Each tinted leaflet will be dead, And where the summer roses grow, In gathering drifts will lie the snow. E P I G y^ A 57 EPI G^A (Sent to Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman in reply to her "Arbutus," sent to me, 1875) IT is not always that one meets A true wood-lover on the streets. Nor often that there haps along, One full of fairy dream-land's song. To whom belong of right the things A wanderer from the forest brings. Arbutus, loving and loved much. Transfigured grows beneath her touch, And leads us through the golden haze. By piney woods, and willowy ways, Or where the alder's tresses beam In dazzling light above the stream. It is a pleasure to bestow These buds suffused with alpine-glow. On one who has the subtle power To grace with verse each modest flower. For surely all the flowers belong Of right unto the Queen of Song I 58 MYRICHES MY RICHES I DO not care what others seek, Of diamonds or of gold. When I such wealth can e'er bespeak. All mine, that I behold; They buy their yachts and sail the sea — What place in all their games for me ? They see strange lands ; well, do not I, And such as they can never spy ? From heights serene Where dwells my queen. My lovely daffodilly — Where tulips grow And jonquils blow — I think their doings silly. I have coupons as well as they ; I cut them in the month of May, While what they have will meet an end - I reap perpetual dividend ! THE LIVERWORT 59 THE LIVERWORT BLUE-EYED blossom, somewhere sleeping, While the winter clouds are heaping. Dream you now of sunny hills. Of mossy, fern-engirdled rills ? How I long to see expand The velvet fingers of thy hand ; To catch thy smile, so full of glee. And play at hide-and-seek with thee I For thou wert with me when a child, I wandered in the woodlands wild. And peopled every glade with things Too marvelous for manhood's springs. And still, however changes came To me, thou hast remained the same, — The simple, pure, delicious joy, I knew thee when I was a boy. 60 APRIL APRIL THE bluebirds sing " It is spring ! It is spring ! " The robin chants In his old-time haunts, And from the deeps Of the swamp there "peeps " The cheery note Of the hyla's throat ; Afar on the breeze, From the maple trees, Merrily come and go the bees ; And here and there a butterfly Essays his new-formed wings to try ; A spider on his giddy thread Climbs to the mizzen-topmast head Of some wrecked weed, Stranded by autumn in its need ; The windflower, bashful in its grace. Seeks to conceal its pretty face ; The " Quaker ladies " meet together To talk of suffrage or the weather ; APRIL 61 Over the earth the genial glow Of spring-time bids the blossoms blow, And birches droop their golden hair Above my pathway everywhere. No wonder that the bluebirds sing Or Hyla cheers us with his voice — A thousand buds proclaim the spring, And bid us to " Rejoice ! Rejoice 1 " 62 MYWEALTH M Y WEALTH I SEEK not the gold that shines In the depth of western mines ; The sugar-maples hold In their hands a purer gold. In coin I wade knee-deep, All mine, if I care to keep. And a shower of ducats fall At my very lightest call. Who says that the wealth I own Is surpassed by a glittering stone ? He feels not the mellow glow Of these trembling leaves, I know, Nor can he by wildest guess, Conceive what I possess. MAPLES 63 MAPLES LIKE Grecian hero of the ancient days, J I silent stand in wonder and amaze Within October's dreamy veil of haze. While round me leaves are falling everywhere, With gentle motion through the ambient air, Their gold seems sifted into something rare. The far-famed garden of Hesperides Showed nothing fairer to brave Hercules Than yonder golden glory of the trees. Nor yet would Jason and his comrades bold Have sought in Colchis for the fleece of gold Had they but known the prize our maples hold 1 64 WILLOW AND ALDER WILLOW AND ALDER SEE, pretty Pussy-willow In ermine mantle clad, Is strolling by the river. To make the alders glad. For all her yellow tresses In sunlight gleam with gold ; The breezes gently toss them In many a wondrous fold, These are my vernal darlings — This ever-wedded pair ; My lad with silky raiment, This lass with golden hair. SHELL 65 A SHELL I FOUND a fairy boat upon the shore, One little seat it had, and nothing more ; What boundless ocean had it wandered o'er ? The venturous boatman, where, indeed, was he. Who launched this shallop on the billowy sea. And left it stranded on the beach for me 1 Did he with promise fair and hope set sail. To seek his fortune with the favoring gale ? And did he reach the land, or did he fail ? He leaves no record of his viking quest ; His deeds of prowess are but faintly guessed, And ocean murmurs of his peaceful rest. 66 A T U L I P A TULIP BRIGHT, golden chalice, opening to the sun. Thou art the prize my winter work hath won ; I well could bear the sleet and cold and rain To see thy pure and gladsome face again ; To note thy sepals, day by day, unfold. And sun myself in thy transcendent gold 1 To watch the bee, that maple-blooms invite. Pause at thy shrine ere yet he takes his flight. My Holy Grail thou art, and I shall be Better and purer for the sight of thee. FAIRYBOAT 67 A FAI R Y BOAT 10 NG ago a little fairy ^ Built himself a tiny boat, Fashioned from a cup of acorn, And he set it then afloat. Spider's-web composed the rigging, Masts were made of grasses tall ; Spiders, they are active sailors ; Rarely do they have a fall I Wings of moths he made his sails of. Glittering with a myriad hues, When he asked a fairy maiden " Would she sail ? " Could she refuse ? And so, a tricksy spirit lassie Stepped upon his shallop light ; I saw them start, but in a moment Groom and bride were out of sight. 68 AFAIRYBOAT Often, when in woodlands pausing By sonde cool and shaded spring, The fairy ship on billows tossing Passes me, all wondering. Then I hear, too, elfin laughter, Tinkling music, as from bells, Little hands are surely waving. Perhaps to me, their gay farewells. MYSHELL 69 MY SHELL A PRETTY spiral stairway Leads up into my shell, I would that I could follow A story it might tell. Perhaps up yonder staircase, Whose pearly steeps I see. There is an attic chamber, All hung with filigree. Maybe there sits the maiden Who sings that solemn song, That deep within the chamber — Is echoed all day long 1 She is a weary lassie — Despite her house of pearl, Will not someone release her, This long imprisoned girl ? 70 MYVIOLETS MY VI O LETS THEY tumble over the border, I cannot keep them in : They revel in disorder, They laugh and freedom win. Defiant of endeavor To keep them from the grass. They smile on me forever. Each blue-eyed, wayward lass. I've tried to check the riot, Alas ! it is in vain ; They never will keep quiet. But run away again. I love them all the better. And now the truth is told. Than if, by silken fetter I could each blossom hold. JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT 71 JACK-INT HE-PULPIT 1 FOUND a camp-meeting of teachers, Most wonderful ever was seen ; Such quaint and prim httle preachers, In pulpit of purple and green. I knew not the words they were saying ; The sermon did not understand, But saw all the flowers a-praying, And hid my own face in my hand. 72 MARCH MARCH WHEN the tassels of the alders Begin again to swing, When robins from the tree-tops Their morning carol sing, I hear the blackbirds chatter, I know what is the matter, 'Tis the advent of the Spring. Then the "pussies" on the willows Protrude their silky caps ; The hylas chant their joyous song. Awakened from their naps ; A snow pile yonder lingers, But spring with gentle fingers Will cause it soon to lapse. Now look for epigsea Along the forest way, Or liverworts in frolic mood. That bloom for us to-day ; MARCH 73 By many a rocky splinter They triumph over winter, And laugh in merry play. And, lo ! a shining crocus, A cup of burnished gold. Within our very garden The Holy Grail behold ! No more we are despairing Since March has grown as daring As those brave knights of old. 74 JACKFROST JACK FROST A BUSY, bright spirit is Mr. Jack Frost, And a mischievous elf withal ; He bridges the river with ice across, H^ spans the waterfall. He builds him a palace of crystal fair, Which jewels and gems adorn, Brighter than those we frame of air In waking dreams of morn. With opals the spider's net he weaves. Like veil of fairy queen. He scatters his stars o'er fallen leaves. Which glitter in icy sheen. Each moss is a spearman, dight in mail, Who stands at his post erect, Some minim seeker of Holy Grail From Arthur's court direct. JACKFROST 75 And Jack will touch the window-pane And o'er the field of glass, Behold we see brave dons of Spain, And noble ladies pass. With crayon bold a fern he draws So delicate in its grace. It seems a film of airy gauze Or woven web of lace. POEMS OF SENTIMENT REVEILLE 79 REVEI LLE MORN o'er the mountain Now begins to peep ; Glistens on the fountain ; Soldier wake from sleep, Rouse thee to thy duty, Seize thy ready gun. Dream no more of beauty. Fighting 's now the fun 1 Hurry up ! oh, hurry up I for dress don't care ; for dress don't care ! The enemy is lively ; he will not scare ! Hurry up 1 oh, hurry up ! the day is clear ; the day is clear ! Hasten to the roll-call ; haste and answer, " Here 1 " Dawn on the billows Now begins to gleam ; Rouse thee from thy pillows. Wake thee from thy dream ; 80 REVEILLE Hear the muskets rattle, See the bayonets shine, Hie thee to the battle. Danger's place be thine I LADY OF CREMONA 81 A LADY OF CREMONA o H, could I but contrive to win One chord of yonder violin. That lassie with her flowing hair Contrives to touch with feeling rare, I 'd hold it till the wire was thin, Nor care for all men thought, a pin. She touches it with such a grace, Such winsome beauty 's in her face. That I could gaze for hours alone Entranced like Orpheus' block of stone, Nor ever dream of other peace, Until her perfect music cease. Does she perchance, her influence know. When melodies like these will flow To lull the weary heart to rest, Or wake the angel in my breast ? Will she be merciful to me ? I cannot long such sorrow dree ! 82 REGRET REGRET FOR the river I long, athirst, Like one in a desert land, Who looks over miles accursed With a wearying waste of sand. The mirage reveals a rill, A cooling inland lake ; I will arise and fill ; My anguished yearning slake. I go to the promised spot By beckoning palm trees led, The river — I find it not ; The sea itself is dead. TO CORINNE AS LITTLE BUTTERCUP 83 TO CORINNE AS LITTLE BUTTERCUP WHERE dost thou gain the art That thus has touched my heart Thou wondrous mite ? Where all the mimic graces, The airs and the grimaces, Which so delight ? A " Buttercup " art thou — ' The only one, I vow, I 've ever seen ; Though many of the name My homage seek to claim. Thou art the queen ! Don't " mix those children up," Lest my repleted cup Shall bubble o'er ; And do not, for my sake, That youthful captain take Forever more ! 84 TO CORINNE AS LITTLE BUTTERCUP The years with sorrow laden, Deal gently with thee, maiden, I pray they will ! Nor hasten to grow up, Sweet little Buttercup, Be little still 1 M Y S H I P 85 MY SHIP MY ship is on the sea, I long for her alway, She comes not home to me, O, whither does she stray ? I meet with sailor men Who roam the billowy deep. But none of them do hear What doth my vessel keep. They've seen her in the calm. But shadowy and afar ; Where rise the isles of palm, Where gleams the southern star I know she bears me gold. If only I could win. When shall I her behold — And hail her coming in ? 86 THANKSGIVING THANKSGIVING THANKS for the crimson apples ; Thanks for the golden grain ; For summer's pleasant sunshine ; For April's genial rain ! Give thanks for all the flowers That God in beauty sends, But most of all show gratitude For kind and generous friends. What matter if the forest tree No longer wears the leaf ? Our kindly mother Nature But tries our unbelief ; And she herself in thankfulness Now seeks a brief repose. And smiles upon us lovingly From out her robe of snows. Thanks for the Nation's liberty. Thanks for our wealth's increase, For faith, for hope, for charity, And, most of all, for peace ! THANKSGIVING 87 Blow winds, our glad thanksgiving, Ye ocean billows roar, And swell the hymn of gratitude To God forever more ! OLD SANTY AT HOME OLD SANTY AT HOME OLD Santy lives in a cave of ice, Adorned with many a strange device ; For where the Catskill mountains high Uprear their summits to the sky, With frosty pinnacle and tower. He dwells within a secret bower. ' Tis here he makes the wondrous toys To please the hearts of girls and boys, Here dolls and hoops, and candies, too. With balls and books exposed to view. And Christmas-trees all cut to size Delight the marvelling stranger's eyes. A thousand lamps of crystal gleam — One sees as in a fairy dream ; For ne'er could chandelier of glass — These frosty ones in hue surpass ; Nor could a human mirror show These changing colors of the bow. OLD SANTY AT HOME Here curious dwarfs, with skilful hand, At workshop tables seem to stand. While one, the leader of them all. With folded arms surveys the hall, And in a little note-book takes A record of what each one makes. No married man is Santy, he Delights to work for you and me ; And when the summer days are hot He toils within his mountain grot ; For well he knows the children may Expect him on next Christmas day. When at length the time comes round There's nearly always something found, But few who give a Christmas gift Have toiled o'er mountain, rock and drift. To see where Santy makes the things Which every year he kindly brings. 90 CHRISTMAS EVE CHRISTMAS EVE IS yon the little star that shone O'er Bethlehem's field of old, To guide the wise men of the East To him who was fore-told ? It shines as bright This wintry night As centuries ago It hailed the coming of the light And end of human woe. It twinkles high above the cross That tops the minster spire ; It hears the chiming of th« bells And music of the choir. This star we view In heaven's blue Shall light us on the way And be to us a promise true Of God's unending sway. CHRISTMAS EVE 91 I hear the organ's glorious hymn And children's voices sweet Uniting with the seraphim "All Glory!" to repeat. The day is nigh ; Fair is the sky And lovely is the dawn, No more shall man be doomed to die For lo ! the Christ is born ! 92 THE CHRIST-CHILD THE CHRIST-CHILD BESIDE the Christmas tree Lies an infant fair to see, As the twilight of the dawning Steals in on Christmas morning. Just as the masters paint The halo of a saint, In sacred missals olden. He wears a glory golden. The German legends say The Christ-child comes to-day, And to the children brings Great store of precious things. But most of all he cheers The orphan child in tears. And bears from God above Sweet messages of love. THE CHRIST-CHILD 93 O this is surely He Whom thus I seem to see, For from the unknown shore A hope returns once more. 94 NEW-YEAR'SEVE NEW YEAR'S EVE TOLL the bell, the year is going, While without the winds are blowing. And the tempest fiercer growing, With its rain and sleet and snowing. Ring out the parting knell ! To the good old year, farewell ! Of the new no man is knowing. Chime the bells, the glad New Year With its joy and smiles, is near ; With its comfort and its cheer, And hope for every fear, O let the merry chime Give welcome to the time, The happy day is here ! NEW-YEAR'S EVE 95 NEW YEA R' S EVE THE year is dying — It 's hours flying ; And, as they go, The falling snow In drifts is lying. Our watch we keep While others sleep. To hear the bell That tolls farewell To feelings deep. Forget the past, Now fading fast ! It's pleasures gone Why should we moan ? They could not last. The new-born year Behold is here ! There 's work to do For me and you, Be of good cheer ! POEMS OF CHILDHOOD A STORY OF PETER MINORIE 99 A STORY OF PETER MINORIE PETER MINORIE In his little dory, Decked in all his glory Went a row to take When, as he was sailing, He leaned upon the railing, And from sudden failing. Fell into the lake. Alas ! for little Peter ! Nothing could be sweeter. No costume newer, neater. Than that he wore to-day ; But now 'tis wet and clinging. As homeward they are bringing -The boy who went out singing. Upon the beauteous bay. Yes, true ! 'twas very silly To pluck the water-lily. He 'd have it willy-nilly. So now he comes to grief ; 100 A STORY OF PETER MINORIE And every little fellow On shore began to bellow, And Towser (he is yellow) ; Swims out to his relief. No dog was ever better (They say he is a setter), For though he now was wetter Than ever known before ; He brought his little master. Now sinking faster, faster. And white as alabaster. Unto the nearest shore. No need of further weeping, Our Peters' merely sleeping And there is Towser peeping To see him well bestowed. When next he goes out rowing. He '11 surely be more knowing. Than seek a flower growing In such a wet abode. MEG 101 MEG SWEET dreams possess my winsome lass, Fair Cinderella's pumpkin couch By her is plainly seen, alas ! When fatal hours of change approach. She sees her leave the merry dance, And haste the marble steps adown, But grieves not at the cruel chance, Foreseeing still the royal crown. Invisible, with Percinet She can the step-dames' plans derange ; The gnomes within the wood have met, Nor deems a transformation strange. She can discern a beauteous land Where sugar trees grow broad and wide ; Where candy pebbles form the sand. And chocolates are on every side. 102 MEG For her 'tis nothing to descend With fair Undine beneath the sea ; Ah ! water maiden, please to send My precious lassie back to me. BIRTHDAY POEM 103 A BIRTHDAY POEM IT was the brightest morning That I had ever seen, For something whispered to me That Rosie was sixteen ; I thought that lovely blossoms, Like those I often meet In summer, by the pathway, Should bloom about her feet. Will not some kindly fairy Go pluck me a bouquet. From proud Titania's gardens. Which I can send to-day ? Come, bring me budding roses, A Rose, you know, is she Who claims this loyal homage, A tribute gift from me. The spirits tell me sadly That not a blossom grows Within the forest gardens To match my city Rose. 104 A BIRTHDAY POEM I fear that in their envy My little bud they '11 bear Unto their leafy bowers, To plant in beauty there. Depart, ye frisky minims, I 've nothing more to do With any thieving houris, Or spirits like to you ! You shall not have my blossom However much you moan ; She is not meant for Oberon, And she is mine alone ! T O M E G 105 TO MEG I HEAR a patter at the door, A tap of tender fingers, And footsteps on the entry floor, Where Meg, my darling, lingers. She 's come to tell of dolly's wrongs. And how her grief she hushes. To father every care belongs, — Into my arms she rushes. I kiss and comfort as I may ; My word her grief assuages ; Sweet trifles cause her to delay — For only six her age is. She is the lady of my heart, I swear allegiance truly ; From her I never can depart. Or near her prove unruly. 106 M Y B O Y MY BOY HIS mind conceives vast schemes to span The nursery floor with railroad plan ; He sails brave ships, in childish play, To Ceylon's Isle and fair Cathay ; No land remote or unconfessed Lies hidden from his viking quest ; No castle tower can e'er withstand His tin-clad soldier's fierce command ; His knights in tourney never fail, His prince must win the Holy Grail ; Beforehand it is understood He '11 wake the princess in the wood, And all the giants' heads will fall Before his sounding bugle call ; He notes the sound of Ariel's flute. When all the ambient air is mute ; Each flower reveals its perfect grace, And fairies meet him face to face. MEG'SHAND 107 M EG'S HAND WITHIN this narrow space, You see we can embrace Our dainty Margaret's hand ; The love that she conveys In winsome baby ways You can hardly understand. Be sure she sends with this An imperishable kiss To Auntie, ever dear ! And dimples o'er with fun To see what she has done With little fingers here. COLLEGE VERSE ON THE OLD CHAIR Ul ON THE OLD CHAIR (In the First Baptist Meeting House : a Ballad a la Dobson) ANCIENT, mellow and brown, Flat-bottomed, level and grand ; Here flows the dignified gown. Here all the candidates stand — Tell me, now, is it not grand? Maidens in beauty are there, Think of them, men, if you will, — This is the President's Chair I Think of the crowds it has seen Pass as the doorways unfold, Gather to talk on the green, — Ah ! we are all growing old. Most of our story is told ; None with the boys can compare, Boys whom we once knew at Brown, — This is the President's Chair ! 112 ON THE OLD CHAIR No graduates longer salute, Nor, tearful, express a farewell, — Philosophy fails to confute Errors that science must tell. All has been changed by a spell, Latin itself does not dare Utter itself as we knew, — This is the President's Chair ! ENVOY If we its record could scan, Whom would our scrutiny spare ? Each President was but a man, — This is the President's Chair ! CLASS OF .864 113 Read before the Class of 1864, Brown University, June 29, 1870 TIS six years since we met, Still I do not forget How very jolly We all were on that night. And how we put to flight Old Melancholy. Yet I have seen odd times. Of strange and divers climes The distant shore, But everywhere I roam My heart still claims its home In Sixty-Four. Upon Nevada's hills. Near California's rills And snowy mountains. Among Arcadia's pines, Columbia's florid vines. And tropic fountains. 114 CLASS OF 1864 Still have I thought of Brown ; And, as I gazed adown The lengthening years, Have stopped to breathe a sigh For the old days gone by, — Their smiles and tears. Few were the troubles known In those fair hours now flown For us, old boys ; We paused not then to think Of what we needs must drink Beside our joys. Yet few have seen a morrow That has not brought some sorrow To dash their bliss, — But though there 's much of pain. The joy comes back again In spite of this. For here we are to-night, With smiles and laughter bright. To greet our baby ; To give the silver cup With happiness filled up. And promise, maybe. CLASSOF1864 115 Long live our first-born child, I hope " he '11 draw it mild " From this fair beaker ; That he will truth inherit, And learn to be of merit An earnest seeker. Let every joy rain down Upon this son of Brown That is to be ; And may we see him own A pair of pants full blown In Seventy-Three ! Grant that he meet a lass, First daughter of the Class, In future days. And do his level best To keep her neatly dressed And trim, always. So, when we end the day, And look back, far away. To this dim shore, 'Twill please us in the knowing That boys and girls are growing For Sixty-Four. 116 TO CLASS OF 1864 TO CLASS OF I 864 COME, ye who have wandered from Providence town, Come back to the knees of your dear Mother Brown ; Her hands are extended in blessing to-day Over all her alumni, the grave and the gay ; No child of her bosom should linger away. Though melons that erewhile our festival graced, The change in commencement forbids us to taste, We yet have the turkey, the berries, ice cream. And temperance liquids in bountiful stream, — And some there are smoking — or is it a dream ? Here come the old boys of the Class Seventeen ; Great Powers, how many there are in between ! Are these all remaining — this elderly twain ? There 's many a classmate that never again Will help them to build up their Castles in Spain ! And here are the fledglings of young Eighty-Two, Refreshingly tickled to think they are "through." TO CLASS OF 1864 117 Ah ! me, when they meet in the world's busy strife, To struggle for honor or, maybe, a wife. With yearning they '11 think of the old college life. No troubles perplexed them in those happy years. Not even their lessons gave permanent fears ; And long may they live, in their ignorance blessed. Oblivious to sorrow, to care, and unrest, — But no 1 I am doubtful if this is the best. True sorrow ennobles ; there 's balm with the pain ; The sunshine is brightest just after the rain ; Whatever their fate then, we hope and believe. That whether they glory or whether they grieve. They ne'er will forget the Old Mother they leave. Nor shall we forget her in Old Sixty-Four, At every triennial we count Up a score. And if there is virtue in song and in noise, I am rather suspicious that we are the boys Who '11 take college honors — by making a noise I 118 THIRTIETH REUNION, CLASS OF 1864 Poem read at the thirtieth reunion of Class of 1864, June, 1894 ARE these the old boys of the Class Sixty-Four ? Our seventy fellows reduced to a score ? Why, look at their heads silvered over with gray. And all of 'em walk in a rheumatic way ; They talk of their wives and their children, forsooth, In a way that no longer betokens their youth ; They wheeze as they speak of the tricks they once knew. Ere early mustaches and side-tabs they grew ; They are all reminiscent, a sign of old age. And love to look over the previous page ; Their girth in some cases is wondrous to see. For just look at Kenyon and then gaze at me. Extremes thus will meet in the very best class ; I wish that some fellow that pitcher would pass ; " Dry up, you old fool ! " I hear one remark. And lucky for him that he sits in the dark. The Class is not old, its standing is straight, It takes off its lemon and seltzer first-rate ; Among the whole crowd there is not a gray hair. On never a brow is the wrinkle of care ; THIRTIETH REUNION, CLASS OF 1864 119 Their wives all adore them for virtuous men, You call them asthmatic and aged, what then ? Why, just hear them sing, you '11 not have a choice But just to award them the prize of the voice. There ' s Ham, the sweet singer, and Willard and Rhodes, Whom e'en the gods envy in happy abodes ; Was ever such trio in other class seen ? And then, for good stories, I '11 back up our Dean. 'Tis all precious nonsense to say we are old, A classical myth such as poets are told ; We have, on the contrary, sipped of the cup Filled with vital elixir and drained it all up ; Its currents electric now course in our veins, And have some effect on our middle-aged brains ; At least, for to-night, we are every one boys. Just stop that old croaker, why makes he a noise ? Come, fill up the cup to the Class Sixty-Four, And ring out our anthems and chorus once more. Aye, wreathe the fair beaker, and then" drink it down," I give you a toast, boys, " Our Class and Old Brown ! " 120 TO THE CLASS OF 1864 TO THE CLASS OF 1864 OLD TIME, who neither rests nor slumbers, Whose ruthless hand no man can stay. Has dealt full kindly with our numbers, ' Yet tinged our locks with silver gray. We miss and mourn those passed out yonder ; In silence toast their memory dear. Which every season renders fonder, Methinks they gather with us here. But let no tears bedew this meeting — The great time of our jubilee, Let every classmate give his greeting. And speak in words of praise and glee. We hail again each loyal brother. Fill high your glasses as of yore. We '11 toast again our " Dear Old Mother," The pride of Brown, Old Sixty-Four. ALUMNI DINNER, NEW YORK, 1892 121 Read at the dinner of the Brown Alumni at Del- monico's, New York, March 25, 1892 1L00K all around me to see whom I know, First up at the dais, then down at the row. I '11 own that I find me but ill at my ease Among all these fellows with triple degrees. I gaze down the ranks with a sense of surprise, To catch the one answering gleam of their eyes. Please am I Van Winkle ? Will not some one shake My anatomy gently — or am I awake "i Are these the old boys I knew in my youth .■• Pray tell me if all they have said is the truth >. If Harry, and Tommy, and Dick, and the rest, Are sitting down yonder all fully confessed ? It must be a dream ; I left them but now, Yet silver is trailing o'er many a brow, And crow-feet meander in wavering line O'er faces familiar in days of Lang Syne. 122 ALUMNI DINNER, NEW YORK, 1892 Yes ! these are the boys ; I perceive it is true, — The very same fellows I yesterday knew. The proof? I have heard them this eve "drink it down " In just the old words, to our dear Mother Brown I POEMS OF PSI UPSILON PSIUPSILON 125 PSI UPSILON HAIL to thee ! Hail to thee ! fair Psi Upsilon I Sweet are the mem'ries now leading to thee ! No fair laughing maiden that ever I smile on Is dear to my heart as thy symbols to me. The clasped hands of friendship, the diamond's token, Conceal a sweet secret betrayed to the few ; The letters depicted remain still unspoken, A wealth they convey to each Brother Psi U. For though on the mountain or wide-rolling ocean. In desert or prairie we wander unknown, These letters we welcome with deepest emotion. And claim him who bears them indeed as our own. In sickness or sorrow, or when the eyes brighten, Our dearest Old Mother is kind to caress ; The weariest woe she has power to lighten ; Our slightest achievement is prone to confess. 126 PSIUPSILON Then hail to Psi Upsilon I Guard her forever 1 We 're true to her watchword in shadow or shine ; Be this our proud duty, our utmost endeavor. To wear yet unsullied that diamond of thine. THESHIPPSIU 127 THE SHIP PSI U 1SIT down by my door, And gaze upon the shore Where waves are breaking — And billows o'er the sand Come bounding hand in hand, Wild music making. I look upon the sea, And nothing seems to me Now intervening, Except a distant craft Which gentle breezes waft. Onward careening. It is the ship " Psi U," Borne o'er the waters blue. With streamers flying ; And hark ! the echoing song — ' To her we all belong " — Now rising, dying. 128 THESHIPPSIU The crimson on her sails, Now deepens and now pales. All in the gloaming ; Waves redden with the light Save where they break in white. Or sparkle foaming. Who are the gallant crew Of our staunch ship Psi U ? Where is she sailing ? An answer is borne back. Far o'er the foamy track, To our loud hailing, — We are the Sigma men. In numbers six and ten. Of passing beauty ; We 're striving for the goal Which waits each faithful soul Who does his duty. Go then, brave ship, and bear That legend everywhere. And Psi U's Glory,— Till all the world around Hears the triumphant sound, And tells her story. RAINY NIGHT IN PSI U 129 A RAINY NIGHT IN PSI U Written in 1872, but read at banquet of Psi U Con- vention held with the Eta of Lehigh, May, 1888 THE rains may fall and tempests roar, And rage or wail without, They cannot shake old Sigma's door. Nor quell our joyous shout. What care we, boys, for wind or weather. When singing here our songs together ? Then, brothers, chant some stirring song To "Georgia and the Sea," No matter if the words are wrong, In thought we all agree. To Psi U's praise we shout each time. Who hesitates at paltry rhyme ? No pain shall dim our heart's delight. We '11 sing while we are able. It is enough for us to-night To gather round the table. To-morrow's grief may dash our joys, — Hurrah ! to-night we 're only boys ! 130 ADDRESS TO THE LAMBDA CHAPTER Address to the Lambda Chapter, Columbia College, N. Y., 1872 I COME from little Sigma, In a lovely little town, Which all of us are proud to claim Who graduate at Brown. And wandering in this city here I 'm known without my pin. And rescued by the Lambda boys, Who kindly take me in. I hope that when you visit Brown, As all of you must do. Some Friday night you '11 find your way Upstairs to Old Psi U. The road is straight and narrow, As that which sinners meet. Who strive to reach the promised land With faint and weary feet. But with Sigmatic guiding You '11 reach the wished-for goal. ADDRESS TO THE LAMBDA CHAPTER 131 And find a feast of reason there, And maybe flow of soul. Whatever else you there may find, I 'm sure that you will meet A brother's welcome true and kind, And honest words to greet. Then sing the praise of Lambda ! The Sigma sings it, too. And let us not forget the while To drink to Old Psi U. Within each goblet brimming Her glory bubbles up ; O, let us catch it ere it goes, And drain each joyous cup ! 132 NEW YORK PSI UPSILON ALUMNI Lines read before the New York Association of Psi Upsilon Alumni at Hotel Brunswick, Feb. i6, 1886, by Edmund Clarence Stedman for the author A QUARTER of a century I 've worn the diamond pin, Its apices are quite obtuse. Its margins growing thin ; But on its ebon surface The mystic letters shine, And golden hands are interlaced As in the Auld Lang Syne. Where is the lodge, that jolly den We used to occupy ; Can Psi U's ever emigrate. Can our immortals die ? Can such as those we knew in truth Be grizzled white or gray, Or in their everlasting youth Do they come here to-day ? NEW YORK PSI UPSILON ALUMNI 133 I surely felt an ache just then, (Synovial membranes dry) ; My handkerchief — there 's something wet, (Ah ! tear ducts of the eye !) A wheese asthmatic from the throat, (Bronchitis or catarrh) ; Old age is creeping on apace. These signs and symptoms are. One item of anatomy Is fresh and hopeful yet, The heart that beats for Old Psi U, And never can forget. Fill up your glasses to the brim. Be sure they 're running o'er, All health and honor to Psi U, Both now and evermore ! 134 THE CHAPTER HOUSE THE CHAPTER HOUSE (Lines read at the Alumni Dinner of the Sigma of Psi Upsilon, in Blackstone Hall, Providence, June 14, 1887, Merrick Lyon, LL.D, presiding, Charles J. Arms, Beta 63, toastmaster. The matter before the meeting was to raise funds for building a Chapter House) HAD I Aladdins' power. The magic of a ring. To pour a glittering shower, A fairy palace bring. To touch a circlet golden, A precious lamp to scratch, Perhaps I might embolden Some millionaire to match. The spirits of the ether, The gnomes within the earth, Though I am hard on neither, Reply to me in mirth ; THE CHAPTER HOUSE 135 " Go to ! thou dreaming poet, No Midas touch is thine ; The lamp, we will not show it, — Nor that bonanza mine." Then I address Pandora, That hoyden of the box, A safe deposit surer than Policies or stocks. " O Hope release, fair lady. My brother's faith endue, Though I am something shady. My notes I will renew." For here I do proclaim it, That when my ship comes in. My wealth, who e'er shall name it, However vast the tin, A slice shall go to Sigma To lay her corner-stone. And solve " this here " enigma, Though I subscribe alone I 136 SIGMA OF PSI UPSILON For Alumni Meeting, Sigma of Psi Upsilon, February, 1887 WHEN a man counts his years as a maple its rings, When only a wrinkle each added year brings. When his locks hyacinthine are silvered with gray, His eyes and complexion show senile decay, 'Tis pretty hard lines to expect him each time He partakes of a supper to fall into rhyme. But when the old boys gather here round the board, With Sigma's rare dainties so bounteously stored, A churl would he be, when the fellows desire. If he failed at one effort to tune up his lyre. Let his voice be melodious as yonder wild drake. With tremolo, quaver, demi-quaver and quake. Let him stroke the wrong strings, and the notes all abuse. Who cares when his critics are jolly Psi U's.? 'Tis the sentiment only the Sigma demands. The loyal devotion of interlocked hands. I give you then " Sigma," the queen of the feast, Psi Upsilon's darling, the pride of the East, The choicest link in our mystical chain. SIGMA OF PSI UPSILON 137 Lift high all your glasses ! We '11 toast her again 1 Once more fill your goblets, let each brother clink ; 'Tis the Sigma, dear brothers, we 're going to drink ! Tip the crystal inverted and catch its rare dew. No drop shall be lost in our praise of Psi U ! 138 NEAR, YET FAR NEAR. YET FAR B' When memory tells a thousand stories, And turns the now historic leaf Where all can read Old Sigma's glories ? "Parsfui" so the poet sings, Recalling old familiar places ; The witty words, the jovial things. But, best of all, beloved faces. Ah ! Boys, my wraith, like Banquo's ghost. Is seated calmy at your table, " The board is full ! " Not quite, almost ; My shadow 's here amidst the Babel. Be sure that when the toast goes round. And halls reecho with your thunder, A stately figure will astound You all, with timely words of wonder 1 SIGMA INITIATION, 1889 139 Read at the Initiation of the Sigma of Psi Upsilon, 1889 THOUGH Sigma has attained the span When reproductive function ceases, Her offspring — please the records scan — Each autumn season still increases. Five little boys, or sometimes ten. Each lad of most engaging feature. We yearly lead within our den — And owe to this amazing creature ! No mother can her record beat. E'en though she strive to reach it, maybe ; If Sigma 's not a trump, / 7/ treat, — Yes, "stand it round " for every baby. Sweet innocents, just hear them sing. Their harmony would equal Haydn, And put to shame the siren's song, — Or Lorelei, that Rhenish maiden 1 140 SIGMA INITIATION, 1889 It glads my very heart of hearts, When I come here each new September, To think of all the lively " starts " And jolly times that I remember ! I doff the staid professor's frown, I e'en forget my classroom stories. To hear the fellows " drink it down," And chant our dear old Sigma's glories. I fill my cup with ruby wine ; I bow to every loyal Brother ; Old Sigma ! she is mine, and thine ; God bless her then, our Dear Old Mother ! SONG TO PSI UPSILON 141 SONG TO PSI UPSILON (To the tune of Keller's American Hymn, 1890) SONS of Psi Upsilon, goodly and tall,— Bring ye the treasures of life to her feet, Welcome, thrice welcome, to one and to all ! Psi U is smiling her children to greet, Youthful and aged she hastens to greet, Honored and blest be her well-storied hall, Year after year when her faithful sons meet, Answer again to her glad trumpet call. Sing loud to Psi Upsilon, paeans now raise. Join the glad hymn to our mother serene, Lift all your voices in old fashioned ways, Bow ye, in homage, once more to our queen ; Bring ye the tribute of love to our queen. Songs of the cherished and happy old days. Memories that ruthless Old Time, the unseen, Spares us, we '11 chant in Psi Upsilon's praise. 142 A PSI U INITIATION AT PSI U INITIATION October, 1890 BY the door of the Chapter A little boy sat, There he was patiently waiting. Full deeply he pondered What could they be " at " ? Why did they not open the grating ? " I hear through the windows The echo of glee, I wonder what mischief They 've invented for me ; I wish I had courage My sorrow to dree, — How long will they keep me awaiting ? ' He heard in the Chapter Exuberant din, The sound of a billy-goat bleating, — The blood in his ventricles Grew very thin. His heart it was rapidly beating. A PSI U INITIATION 143 " I wish they would hasten To put me right through, I long to be with them In jolly Psi U ; Can all they have told me Be actually true ? Oh, dear ! But this temperature's heating! " They came for that Freshman, The innocent boy. Just now on the point of despairing ; They took him up tenderly. Not to annoy — Four Sophomores stalwart, up-bearing. They changed all his anguish To jubilant joy, They fondled and petted him Just to employ, — They gave him the latest Patented toy. While still in the dark he was waiting. Who is there can tell What that innocent saw, By mystical candles depicted ; 144 A PSI U INITIATION Perhaps 'twas Jack Horner, Or Marjorie Daw, Or Blue-Beard so deeply afflicted. He went to his chamber That Walpurgis night, And dreamed there strange visions Perhaps of delight. But ever thereafter. If stories are right, His legends all sorely conflicted. SIGMA INITIATION, 1891 145 Read at the Initiation of the Sigma of Psi Upilson, 1891 THE Emperor of China awoke from his slumber, And gazed from his window, astonished to see A palace whose turrets arose without number, Where yesterday stood but a pile of debris. Aladdin had done it ; we all know the story — By rubbing the wonderful lamp in his hand, And causing a genie to cover with glory The simplest of freshmen. Say, isn't it grand ? Oh ! could we contrive but his art to discover. The architect's secret, the lamp, ring and all, We 'd rush with the eagerness due to a lover. And build for our Sigma the long promised hall. We 've polished our argand with fruitless endeavor. No palace arises to gladden our sight ; We 've twisted our ring ; the Af rite will never Arise to our summons at morning or night. 146 SIGMA INITIATION, 1891 Confound his old lamps, his rings and his plunder, Some stocks in a railroad, or coupons will do. A -bos to all weeping and wailing ! By thunder 1 This project is ours. Hurrah for Psi U ! ALUMNI MEETING, SIGMA OF PSI U 147 Read at Alumni Meeting, Sigma of Psi U, April, 1892 IN silence the temple of Solomon rose. In silence the hall of the Sigma grows, The architect even there 's nobody knows. We 've dreamed of the lodge-room for many a year, For months we have stifled each lingering fear, Now the rare time of fruition is here. I beg you examine each intricate plan. Yes, grumble ! pick flaws in them all if you can. For Sigma, believe me, will have the best man. No shanty of shoddy will suit us at all, We want the best thing for Psi Upsilon's hall, No second-class building, or anything small. The " very best families " need the best place In which to exhibit an ancestral grace ; You sabe 1 I see then ; the Sigma needs space. Don't cramp her or squeeze her, or I do suspect She '11 ruin the plans of the best architect ; Behold them here. Brothers I I beg you inspect 1 148 SOD-RAISING SIGMA CHAPTER HOUSE Poem read at The Sod-Raising of the New Sigma Chapter House, Providence, June 20, 1892 THE sultan to Aladdin said one day, " Bring me a palace of proportions grand ! " Oh, sire ! To hear is but to obey, I go to excute your dread command ! " He then betook him to his house awhile. He rubbed his lamp and precious little ring. Then told the genius with a pleasing smile, A first-class palace instantly to bring. So when, next day, the sultan ope'd his eyes. He saw a castle standing at his gate. This filled his majesty with much surprise And put to flight perplexities of state. He called the Vizier, " Abou, look and see ! Did ever men such wondrous sight behold ? The very minarets are fair to see. The windows gleam with jewelry and gold. SOD-RAISING SIGMA CHAPTER HOUSE 149 " Your eldest son whom you commended much, Too boldly sought our daughter for a bride ; Can he command a palace at a touch ? Go, call Aladdin to the royal side ! " The peasant came ; the king received him well. The princess smiled, as Psi U ladies can, Then whispered, " Darling, please now won't you tell Just who contrived this interesting plan ? " The Sigma, too, has spirits to compel. Who strive to execute each slight behest ; They take a longer time, but that is well, A firm-built mansion is, by far, the best. And so for twenty years, or something more. Our slaves have worked upon this little scheme. Revolved each problem o'er again and o'er. And now, behold ! fulfillment of the dream. Boys, brothers, Jriends, of Old Psi U, And ladies bright who wear the diamond pin, We bid you welcome to an opening view, And later hope that we may ask you in. 150 OPENING SIGMA CHAPTER HOUSE Read at The Opening of the New Chapter House of the Sigma of Psi Upsilon, April 14, 1893 OHAD I, in my Freshman days. Once dreamed of such a vision splendid, That e'er my mediaeval gaze Should rest on this fair pile suspended ; I would have thought my sober sense Had suddenly her throne forsaken, That, for society's defense, I should to some retreat be taken. I dreamed, of course, what boy does not ? But in sweet, regulated fancies My Pegasus would sometimes trot. But now, in age, behold, he prances. I cannot longer hold him in, For Sigma leads him by the bridle ; With spurs she prods his glossy skin. And will not let him once be idle. OPENING SIGMA CHAPTER HOUSE 151 I fear to-night, from what I see, The Hippogriff is sure to stumble ; He feels, you know, so full of glee. His giddy master he may tumble. Who, in these incoherent lines. Endeavors thus to show his pleasure, And here his simple chaplet twines In lieu of more enduring treasure. Ah, me ! Despite of all I do, Within this fair and goodly palace, I cannot think of Old Psi U And keep the tears from out my chalice. The memories of that older den So long familiar in our story. And all the hosts of famous men I 've known in days of former glory. Will dim my sight, but not for long, My voice is not attuned to sorrow ; Come, let us have one stirring song. Though care should claim the coming morrow. I toast " The Boys," both young and old, I rank myself with those of twenty, — 152 OPENING SIGMA CHAPTER HOUSE I hope the Sigma's hands will hold Certificates in bounteous plenty ! That not a dollar she may lack To make replete her secret coffers, For this we all are welcomed back ; The treasurer now awaits your offers. SIGMA INITIATION PSI U 153 SIGMA INITIATION PSI U 1894 I MET a most engaging boy, Who told me that the Sigma soon Would hold her annual pomp and joy, And would I please to write a tune ? " We do not care if it is short," He said, " if full of fun and wit. But have it of that spicy sort To spur the freshmen up a bit." I eyed him with my coal black eye. Erroneously described as blue, And said, " Perhaps that I would try To sing a song for Old Psi U." But when for thirty years or more One twangs upon a single string, Some hearers vote he is a bore How e'er delightfully he sing. 154 SIGMA INITIATION PSI U But never mind ; when Hazard asks We all must tremble and obey, Assuming most unusual tasks, Like this which I take up to-day. Perhaps I should my work begin By counseling each tender lad To shun the road that leads to sin. And never, never, to be bad ; To note the ways their fathers walk. In paths of virtue, don't you see ? And let their sweet and youthful talk Be ever in " Epitome." Commit that little book to heart. Write compositions now and then, In short, be ready for each part Assigned you by the older men. Do always what the Seniors say — Avoid the girls — we always did ; They have a most insidious way. And may delude you — Lord forbid ! By turns sweep off the lodge-room floor. Remove from every chair the dust, SIGMA INITIATION PSI U 155 Stand wardens at the outer door, And feed the goat ; indeed, you must. There may be other points, perhaps, That in my haste I fail to tell. But if you heed the other chaps You 're nearly sure to come out well. Be loyal to our banner true, Unsullied wear the diamond pin. Aye, love our mother. Old Psi U, And for her sake new honors win. Thus, after thirty years, maybe. Some single man, or chosen few. May stand, with whitened hair like me, And say, like me, God bless Psi U ! 156 SIGMA INITIATION, 1894 Read at The Initiation of the Sigma of Psi U, October 19, 1894 IS this Psi U ? It cannot be ! It does not seem the place at all. Although I hear the sounds of glee Re-echo in this mystic hall. The boys I knew, Oh ! where are they ? I see them in perspective glance, But some are gone, and some are gray. And others known to fame, perchance. Yet though we all are changed, perhaps, I see them in their former guise. And greetings from those jolly chaps Would not at all my mood surprise. For Sigma men are never old However fate may with them deal, They wear the diamond pin of gold. The mystic grasp responsive feel. SIGMA INITIATION, 1894 157 And in the new hall, as of yore, They gather on this festive night, To sing the ancient songs once more, And set some little freshman right. A boy myself, I cannot deem That I am otherwise than they, Psi U is still my spirit's dream, — I joined her only yesterday. 158 A PSIU ENIGMA A PSI U ENIGMA WHEN from his home on fair Grenada's hills, Boabdil, exiled, fled his native land. Lamenting vainly all his country's ills, My First he wafted to the distant strand. My First the maids of Judah knew full well. Who hung their silent harps on Babel's shore. And wept to think that they were asked to tell The holy words they loved in days of yore. Armed with my Second, English yoemen stood, In brave array, on Crecy's battled field, It was the pride of merry Robin Hood, And better known than ever spear or shield. My Second, as most grammars seem to teach. Is plural, but in idiomatic use By Quakers is eschewed in forms of speech, And subject then to most absurd abuse. PSIU ENIGMA 159 My Whole, a daughter of our Union fair, To thee, her sons, full well is known to fame. Aloft she stands, a Queen beyond compare, — Let every Brother shout her glorious name ! — 1902 160 DINNER TO JUDGE FRANCIS N. FINCH Poem read at The dinner given at the Hotel Savoy, New York, January 24, 1896, by the Psi Upsilon Fraternity to Judge Francis N. Finch upon his retirement from the Court of Appeals of the State of New York SWEET Singer ! by whose tender touch Cemented were the Blue and Gray, We hail thee, for we love thee much, And welcome thee, our guest to-day. The righteous judge, his record scan, No blemish there we all agree, " The grand old name of gentleman " He wears for all the world to see. But oft aside the robe he throws In restful hours to win the muse, And from his pen the rhythm flows To glad the hearts of all Psi U's In varying moods, now gay, now grave. His dulcet harp he plays upon. DINNER TO JUDGE FRANCIS N. FINCH 161 And gives us many a ringing stave In honor of Psi Upsilon. I give you then " Our Noble Guest I " Fill high your glasses to the brim, The poet of Psi U confessed — We love, we praise, we honor him 1 162 O MOTHER, DEAR, PSI UPSILON O MOTHER, DEAR, PSI UPSILON Read for the author at the Annual Dinner of the Psi Upsilon Association of New England, January 19, 1906 (To the tune of Mother, dear, Jerusalem) O MOTHER, dear, Psi Upsilon, How grandly thou hast grown 1 And every Brother here is one, And we, and they, thine own. With all thy youthful sons alert, Whose loyalty is shown By many a gladsome, ringing shout. Till each long night is flown. O Mother, dear, Psi Upsilon, Once more we come to thee, From North, from South, from East And West, from over land and sea. We bring our treasures to thy feet, Our children to thy knee, Each Brother by the hand we greet In love and loyalty. O MOTHER, DEAR, PSI UPSILON 163 Then Mother, dear, Psi Upsilon, Sweet as thy memories be, We come again unto thy shrine. And here renew to thee The pledge we made in youthful days When life was gladness all, We chant our loudest hymn of praise, Responsive to thy call 1 164 SIGMA INITIATION, 1903 SIGMA INITIATION, 1903 TORN are the chords, unstrung the harp, That once through Sigma stormed and thundered. But I, who know each flat and sharp. Can hardly say that I have wondered. Two score and two 's a lengthy time — Be witness every loyal Brother — In which "to build the lofty rhyme " In praise of her, Our Good Old Mother ! Though Paganini's self had tuned For me each instrumental number, By this time I had surely swooned. Or sunk in everlasting slumber. Were Sigma not a mighty theme For individual or for nation. Enough to fire a poet's dream. Or e'en old Wagner's inspiration. SIGMA INITIATION, 1903 165 Enough for me the diamond bright On which are 'graved the symbols golden, I ever view them with delight, To them are lastingly beholden. For simple truth they ever stand. Our motto's charm aye underlying, The sacred secrets of a band Whose noble purpose is undying. So, when a summons comes each year To sing my song in praise of Sigma, I sieze my harp without a fear. Nor dread the task as an enigma. For boys, despite rheumatic age, A youthful spirit ever lingers. And turning to our fateful page New hope inspires my trembling fingers. I once again old times renew. To hail each rosy, new-born Brother, To shout again for Old Psi U, Our Pride, Our Faith, Our Good Old Mother ! 166 FOR SIGMA SMOKER, 1904 FOR SIGMA SMOKER 1904 10NG years ago, when Greece was young, J And college songs were still unsung, Old Cadmus, or some other man, Contrived a most peculiar plan More erudition still to get. And called his work an alphabet. It proves, although he was a Cad, He wasn't altogether mad, " He builded better than he knew," For thence arose our loved Psi U. Still, not indeed for many ages. The turning of three thousand pages, — Did it occur to Union's sons To call themselves " Psi Upsilons." We all here profit by the act. Resulting from that glorious fact. One single letter Cadmus made That puts all others in the shade. He showed himself full well alive, FOR SIGMA SMOKER, 1904 167 Our crooked Sigma to contrive, For seeing zig-zag lightning flash, His style he caught, and with a dash, On fair papyrus promptly hurled The symbol which astounds the world ! Then, as he gazed Time's path adown He said, "This letter stands for Brown." He meant that noble little band. The proudest in our Yankee land. That doth present our own Psi U, The Sigma, ever brave and true ! 168 AT SIGMA INITIATION, 1895 AT SIGMA INITIATION October, 1895 I THINK my brothers, one and all. The classic legend will recall. How once the fair Eurydice In Hades did her weird dree. For many years, till Orpheus' voice Did cause her spirit to rejoice. They also will remember well What afterwards to her befell ; How following him, entranced but mute, Enraptured by his dulcet lute. She nearly reached the upper air. When Orpheus ceased to have due care. And she "went back on him," you know. Retreating to the realms of woe. Now, while I cannot justly say In Hades I abide to-day, I hope to draw a parallel Between me and the Queen of Hell. AT SIGMA INITIATION, 1895 169 Each year some sweet -voiced Sigma man Just buncoes me on Orpheus' plan, And coaxes me until I say I'll follow him the upward way, And leaves me at the moment when I pass the dog that guards the den And tells me, as the gate confines The Sigma wants my annual lines. My hair and verse are growing thin, But while I wear the diamond pin, And sport the clasped hands of gold, I always do what I am told. Of years I've done it thirty-five, But still I'm here and much alive, Each year inveigled by the noise, To rank myself among the boys. And shout the good old songs once more I warbled in the days of yore. As champs the war-horse for the fray, I seek this fair October day. When Sigma, most prolific lass, All former efforts doth surpass, And, in the presence of her sons. Gives birth to new Psi Upsilons. 'Tis always an inspiring theme, And so I fondly sometimes dream 170 AT SIGMA INITIATION, 1895 When this, my lyre, has ceased to twang, In Sigma's hall it still shall hang. And Brothers, as they pass it by, Will gaze with a triumphant eye. Say, " Bailey's harp ! He used to try To keep the Sigma's tail on high ! " SIGMA INITIATION, 1905 171 SIGMA INITI ATI ON 1905 OLD Marcus Tullius wrote, 'tis true, A book of very many pages. In which he told us all he knew Or thought, concerning what old age is. In many aspects he was right ; He had full plenteous bread and honey. And never knew, as we know, quite The pinch that comes from lack of money. The twinges of lumbago ne'er He mentions, as his frame assailing, Sciatica he did not bear, Or else we'd heard him loudly wailing. Nor did he know, great pain of all, The danger of in youth assuming To write in verse, but later fall That follows on too much presuming. 172 SIGMA INITIATION, 1905 He never was in old Psi U Or many things he'd known much better, And written them for me and you, In form of a paternal letter. He toyed not with the muse, 'tis thought. Presiding over harps and zithers. So to his mind was rarely brought The question which completely withers : — What shall I write ? What shall I sing To please a group of jolly fellows ? What offering to the shrine may bring Which may perhaps suppress their bellows ? 'Twas easy for old Tully, too. To scribble fast, " De Senectute," He kenned not of our proud Psi U, And reck'd not much of love and duty. He did, though, write of friendship's ties And prefixed then a mighty D'am — At which his friends felt keen surprise, While he said, " What a fool I am 1 " SIGMA INITIATION, 1905 173 I feel a good deal in his plight, To tune my harp for goodly cheering, So, Brothers, I will say Good-night 1 For much my critics I am fearing. And stunts from every Freshman lad Who has not been too far dissected. We hope to hear, both good and bad, As they, by chance, may be directed. One only duty, it is true. Remains for me, and nothing other, To sound a toast for old Psi U, And call a blessing on our Mother I 174 MR. TALBOT'S FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY MR. TALBOT'S FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY On April 6th, 1907, Mr. and Mrs. Wm. R. Talbot cele- brated Mr. Talbot's entry upon his second half cen. tury of Psi U membership. He is of the Lambda Chapter of Columbia University, and one of the most faithful attendants at meetings of the Sigma. These lines were penned at his request THIS is a festal occasion, Once more does the star of Psi Upsilon Beam on the blushing young Talbot, ' Tis a tale of the Eastern romancer. He tells of his fiftieth cycle, Of how, on his carpet, he travelled To lands of the Peri and Genie. Why, look, how at every re-union, He comes to review the initiates ! ' Tis we who are old, not our Talbot, He blooms in perennial juvescence, Think of the many fine fellows He has seen admitted to Sigma ! For long ere we note or remember. MR. TALBOT'S FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY 175 He became part of our record, Descended to us by tradition, Like Waterman, Rogers, and Diman, Like Harkness, Dunn and Dan Beckwith, Lippitt, De Mille, and Ned Blanchard 1 He, who was born of the Lambda, Fondled and nurtured by Sigma, He came, as we say, by tradition. As does our grip and our motto. Too sacred for public expression. Not to be mentioned unheeding : — Always with reverent obeisance ! Grew up with yonder rare trophies. Grew with Columbian vigor. Then, on a day unrecorded. He threw in his lot with the Sigma, And since has been one of our Brothers, Now, were it not for our Talbot, We would have to abandon the Chapter, Nor rain, nor storm can detain him ; No duty prevent his appearing When Sigma has met for a session, A function or solemn occasion, A dance, or play by the Freshmen, A smoker or similar festival. Then, too, with friendliness beaming He opens his house to the Sigma, 176 MR. TALBOT'S FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY Spreads a rare feast for the Brothers, Served by Psi Upsilon ladies, Lovely, and gentle, and kindly. Such as we toast on occasion. Wear in our hearts, and give pins to ! Long life then to good Brother Talbot 1 Health to his wife and his daughters ! Fifty years more to his record ! In which, each recurring November, Shall we see him again at the Sigma, Younger than trembling initiates. Youngest, indeed, of the Brothers ! THE FLAG OF PSI U 177 THE FLAG OF PSI U Read at the banquet of the 74th Annual Convention of the Psi Upsilon Fraternity, held with the Delta of the University of New York, April 12, 1907, in the large dining-room of Hotel Waldrof Astoria, New York. About five hundred brothers present. HERE is the flag of Psi U Brilliant, and spotless, and new. Garnet and yellow in hue, Clasped hands in gold thereupon. And letters, Psi Upsilon, Written above and below. Symbols that all of us know Beloved Psi Upsilon ! Long may these letters stand For all that is good in the land. Known to our brave little band ; To this, our own jolly crew. Let us our efforts renew ! 178 THE FLAG OF PSI U May we each Chapter sustain ! Give them three cheers again ! Hurrah, Hurrah for Psi U ! Fling out the garnet and gold ! Guarded by Brothers so bold 1 Sign of a treasure untold, Let it fly wide to the breeze 1 Waving o'er lands and o'er seas I Nail our brave flag to the mast ! May all its victories last ! Once more to the Flag of Psi U I INITIATION AT SIGMA, 1899 179 INITIATION AT SIGMA 1899 I TAKE down my harp from the peg where 'tis hanging — The harp that old Chronos doth roughly abuse, To see, if once more I can set its chords twanging, In praise of old Sigma and all the Psi Us. For thirty -nine years it is annually playing A tune which essentially bideth the same, My fingers are lovingly over it straying. And striving once more its wild notes to reclaim. The music's still in it, I know by the feeling, Melodious chords I never yet sung ; I hear as brave symphonies over me stealing As those which at former festivities rung. But how catch the tune that forever is fleeting ? The paean that fitly gives praise to Psi U ? What words can I give at this annual meeting ? I surely would chant them if ever I knew. 180 INITIATION AT SIGMA, 1899 The clasped hands of gold on our diamond shining, Are surely a text for a poet or seer ; Those mystical letters forever entwining, Remain for each Brother perpetually dear. Then, sweet little Freshmen, each wonderful Brother, I hope you will utter your tenderest lay. Will keep in your mind, dear Old Sigma, Our Mother, And bring her new honors for many a day 1 SIGMA INITIATION, 1907 181 SIGMA INITIATION 190; WHEN Judah's maidens sat adown and wept, By Babylon's streams where hung their harps unswept, They pleaded loud, " they could not understand ; How sing the Lord's song in a foreign land ? How dare the once-loved music to essay Or by these distant rivers seek to play ? " So have I found it ever seem a task, When far from home, a stranger youth doth ask That I shall chant, in words however few, To other Chapters, songs of Old Psi U. My heart for Sigma ever is so full. On other themes, alas ! I have no pull. Not e'en the old Fraternity at large Can launch with safety my reluctant barge. Its sails refuse to catch the wind and fill ; In other words, I cannot write at will. 'Tis only when Old Sigma's "tail" demands. My zither answers to my palsied hands. 182 SIGMA INITIATION, 1907 But, Brothers, even then, is it quite fair To call an ancient from the patriarch's chair, Which he for forty-seven years has filled, And ask for nectar many times distilled ? In life's alembic stirred about so much. That only dregs respond unto his touch ? ( My metaphors are sadly mixed, I fear. Let no one stand for good old Rhetoric here, Since once it throve beneath Professor Dunn, A favorite child of old Psi Upsilon, You'll find his portrait hung in yonder room. His smile pervasive as a rich perfume. Recalling phrases ever sweet and mild, Drawn from the " well of English undefiled)." Shall I forever answer to your call. Whenever summoned to this ancient hall ? Cannot some understudy get at once in train For that quick time when you shall call in vain ? ****** Not any fellow in the crowd can dodge When he's commanded in this sacred lodge. Don't go so often to the same old well. Lest it should lose its potency and spell. Well, now I'm up, as politicians say, r m up for good, and mean awhile to stay. Like brave McMahon, in the gloomy days SIGMA INITIATION, 1907 183 Of Third Republic's very devious ways. At least I'll answer in a word or two To what r m called for, Sigma and Psi U, The mother and the daughter ever fair, In all experience far beyond compare. Stick to them both, ye Brothers, old and young, Sing ye the songs we ancients always sung. Fill ye your glasses to our banner bold, The glorious colors, garnet and old gold ! If ye but stick to harmless lemonade Don't fear that you '11 mistake a sable spade For other cards of some attrocious hue, Though all are trumps we hold here in Psi U. Now in most proper terms, expressions bright, Respond as fitting, to each toast to-night. Long live the Sigma ! God bless old Psi U ! May every year her record proud renew, Let courage fill the soul of every man, That he may keep her motto and her plan, And, as old Catlin says, who's ever knowin'. Hold to her fast, aye, "keep her still agoin' 1 " 184 SIGMA INITIATION, 1900 SIGMA I NITI ATI ON 1900 WHERE is that cup of ruby wine We used to quaflf in Auld Lang Syne When toasting here the " Dear Old Shrine ? " Will not some brother lead a raid For liquids of superior grade To cold and feeble lemonade ? I note in Brother Gardner's e'e, He fully doth accord with me. And that fair chalice longs to see. He has, indeed, implied a doubt If such a cup was e'er about. As used to bring the old-time shout. Sweet cynic, I assure you here, Although you deem it passing queer, That cup existed many a year. SIGMA INITIATION, 1900 185 And may, indeed, be still on earth ; No subject for unseemly mirth ; A treasure still of passing worth. Who knows but Gardner next will carp About old Bailey's well-strung harp. And other things considered sharp ? No matter, there is such a lyre, " Still pregnant with celestial fire," To hurl on foes invectives dire. He might as well, one would suppose. Think Ham was dead, when each one knows, His Irish gent's but in repose. Anon, when yonder cup is found. And with the ruby drop goes round. We'll hear of Noah, I'll be bound. But not at such a time as this May I strike any chord amiss. Or interrupt such perfect bliss. The hour belongs to Old Psi U, And if I tell her nothing new. My utterance shall, at least, be true. 186 SIGMA INITIATION, 1900 To each and all, both Pa and Son, I wish an evening full of fun, Forever live Psi Upsilon 1