  [Alumni Reunion—1885.] When the tints of the morning had turned into gray, And the sun of our lives fast was finding its day, When we stood on that line where youth's journey was done, And our manhood and womanhood scarce had begun, When the word was no longer "How happy are we!" But "What can we suffer, and conquer, and be?" When the prairies of youth, with fresh flowers covered o'er, And all shaded with groves, were our playgrounds no more; And mountains stepped into the mist, from afar, And over the highest one's top, gleamed a star, 'Twas whispered to us, "If those heights you ascend, Much training its aid to your forces must lend; Ere you in the future the conflict have won, You must know what the minds of past ages have done." Then the old Alma Mater, with welcoming sign, Said, "That's what I'm for; students, fall into line!" And with hearts still at home, but with eyes forward cast, We started away on our march through the past. 'Twas a long, weary march! full of toil and of pain; There were curbings of body, and lashings of brain; There were sinkings of heart, fraught with agony dire; There were roads we must walk full of thorns and of fire. For if he who much strength with the body would gain, Must clamber his way through fatigue and through pain, Then he who would mental efficiency find, Must suffer and strive with the nerves of the mind. If we turned all these woes in the quartz-mill of truth, And crushed out the gold from the woes of our youth, If we knew that all pain, when 'tis wisely endured, Will be paid for ten times, and the wound neatly cured, Then we gathered rich profits that doubtless will last Through ages to come—in our march through the past. 'Twas a bright, glorious march! full of joys that were new; Of hopes that kept budding, and friends that kept true; And powers just awaking and op'ning their eyes, That dashed through our souls with a thrill of surprise; Of facts 'twas a luxury just to possess; Of growth that was full of the fire of success. To you who now fret under college control, Keep this truth in your mind—let it call on your soul: You never will find, through terrestrial source, A pathway more smooth than the old college course. In spite of the foes that may lie in the way, In spite of the clouds that may blot the best day, In spite of the gibes ignoramuses throw forth, In spite of the cares of the world, flesh, etc., There's nothing you'll find, tho' you live a long while, That will show you so many sweet flowers to the mile, Though running through some woeful weeds on the way, As this same college course you are taking to-day. When, nearing Death-station, on life's crooked track, You scan your time-table, and take a look back O'er all of the different stations you've passed, You'll own, as you trundle along to the last, That nothing will strike you with such pleasant force, As that time that you spent in the old college course! You will find that it lighted your life, all the way, And gave you material for effort, each day; That you traveled much freer, for the luggage amassed In the work-checkered days of your march through the past. "'TWAS A BRIGHT, GLORIOUS MARCH! FULL OF JOYS THAT WERE NEW." 'Twas a bonnie October, as autumn months go, From our camp on the tolerably placid St. Jo., We shouldered our—books, for grim heroism's home, For sweet, wicked, charming, licentious old Rome! And ere the last month of our journey was through, What picturesque characters came to our view! Came Cicero, full of extremes good and bad; The only great orator Rome ever had! Philosopher, statesman, attorney, he rose The higher for each of his enemies blows! A lesson to halt not that foes be appeased, And not to turn back when some fools are displeased. Keep on, with what light heaven will lend to your eyes; If fools call you fool, 'tis a sign you are wise. Came Livy, who, when we approached him, first fired A volley of Preface, that made us all tired; Describer of Rome, both as glorious and base, With mod rate correctness, and infinite grace; Who told how a wolf, in her blood-spattered home, Took charge of the two city fathers of Rome; How Remus resigned, from some reasons of weight, And Romulus seemed to endure it, "first-rate;" How his guests from the Sabines escaped with their lives, But left all their best-looking daughters for wives (Let this be a warning, by fathers e er carried; Keep daughters from school if you don't want them married!); Yes, what characters old, and yet startlingly new, Did that same historian pilot us to! Came Hannibal, trapper of Romans; whose might Put even the courage of heroes to flight! Unhelped by his own, and not conquered e'en then, Till the sun was eclipsed and made cowards his men; Yet even, when down—full of age and neglect— His enemies feared him, and gave him respect! Came brave, grand Horatius, who kept bridge one day, And took bloody toll from whoe'er came that way; Then swam back in triumph—the pride of all nations— And hero of—several school declamations! If we used these fierce stories our courage to feed, And learned that Resolve is the master of need, If we made up our minds that success is a prize That under the rubbish of hard labor lies, That like Rome, with its victory-banners unfurled, We would fight till we conquered our share of the world, But unlike old Rome, we would not settle down, And let Sloth and Luxury tarnish our crown, Then we gained o'er ourselves a good influence vast, From that savage old land—in our march through the past. What country is this, that looms brightly to me, Washed well by the waves of the Ægean sea? 'Tis the land where blind Homer, with harp of pure gold, Sang stories that never will cease to be told; Where Socrates, keeping an unruffled face, Took his cup of cold poison, with infinite grace; Where brave old Leonidas glory achieved, Was at home in ThermopylÆ's pass, and received; Who to eloquence threw all a hero could give, And died—that a thousand orations might live! Where youthful Demosthenes
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