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Full text of "Amherst Memories: A Collection of Undergraduate Verse of Amherst College"

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AMHERST MEMORIES. 



A COLLECTION OF 



UNDERGRADUATE VERSE OF AMHERST COLLEGE, 

t 



Edited by 

Allan Benjamin MacNeill P 

AND ^ "^ 

John Mantel Clapp, 

Class of '90. 



*As the dew to the blossom, the bud to the bee, 

As the scent to the rose, are those memories to me." 



SPRINGFIELD, MASS.: 
PRESS OF SPRINGFIELD PRINTING AND BINDING COMPANY. 

1890. 






THE NEW YORK S 
BUBLIC lIBIlAliY i 

295079B 

ASTOR, W:t^'OX AND 
B 1944 L 



CONTENTS. 



A Rose, . A. S. Bard,'^, , 

A Sonnet of the Moonlight, //. W. Boynton, '91, 

A Rondeau, W. C. Fitch, '86, . 

A Vision, F. J. E. Wbodbridge, 

Alma Mater W. D, P. Bliss, '7S, 

Amherst Memories, A. E. Cross, *86, . 

An Autumn Reverie, . ... IV. E. Nason, '91, 

At Night, G. B. Churchill, '89, 

Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, E, J. H., ... 

By the Night Sea, G. M. Hyde, '88, . 

Childhood Land, John Bigham, '87, 

Christmas Night, W. C. Fitch, '86, . 

Coup de Grace, F.J.E. Woodbridge, 

Dawn, , . . . John Bigham, ^^-j. 

Day Dreams, J. B. Thrall, '73, 

Determination, W. C. Fitch, 86, 

Di's Mitten, W. C. Fitch, '86, 

Di's Smile, W. C. Fitch, '86, 

Easter Day, W. C. Fitch, '86, 

Epodon, Amherst Scorpion, 

Farewell to the Senior Class, IV. C. Fitch, '86, 

Full Moon, ........ A. S. Bard, 'SS, 

Land and Sea, //. B. /Richardson, 

Last Verses to Di, IV. C. Fitch, '86, 

Let Your Light Shine, . . ././/. Lo^v, '90, 

Mater Dolorosa, A. E. Cross, '86, 

Mater Amabilis, A. E. Cross, '86, 

Memorial Day, E. G. Alexander, '81, 

Morning Mists, S. O. Narticell, '88, 

Morning, F.J.E. Woodbridge, 

My Phyllis, W. C. Fitch, '86, . 

My Dream, J V. C. Fitc/i, 'S6, . 



'89, 



89. 



1852, 



*69: 



89, 



PAGB 

37 
92 

56 
88 

9 
II 

44 

83 
62 

40 

58 

33 
82 

52 
68 
29 

41 
66 

54 

74 

103 

64 

24 

86 

102 

SO 
81 

21 

47 
89 
71 
85 



CONTENTS. 



Hadley, 



Nightfall, 

O'er Silent Lands, . . 
On a Kiss from Di, 
On the Shore, . . . 
On Seeing a Picture of 
Rebuked, . . 
Resignation, 
Rondel, . . 
Serenade, 
Song, . . . 
Spring Song, 
The Legend of 
The Book, . 
The Glen, . 
The Burden, 
The Last Token, . . 
The New Moon, . . . 
The Bell Buoy, . . . 
The Waning Year, . . 
The Sistine Madonna, 
The Fountain, . 

Thought, 

To A Sister of Charity, 
To Amherst College. . 
Three Seasons, . 
Three Crowns, . 
Triolet, .... 
Trust Her Still, 

Two WOOINGS, . . 
UNLOCKEDf . . . 

Vesper Sparrow, . 
Virgin and Child, 
Voices of Nature, 
Waiting, .... 
Welcome to June, 
Wind Voices, . . 



Di 



LeRoy Phillips ^ '92, 
G. B. Churchill, '89, 

W. C. Fitch, '^6, . 

W. B. Colfon, '90, 

IV. C. Fitch, '86, . 

W. C. Fitch, '86, . 
An Outline Study, 
H. W. Boynion, '91, 
G. B. Churchill, '89, 
F. G. Burgess, 'jS, 
J. H. Lena, '90, 
H. G. Blake, !^2, . 
John BighanLy '87, 
F/. E. Woodbridge, 
John Bigham, 87, 
E.J.H., . . . 



'89, 



G. N. Whipple, '7S, 
S. O. Hartwell, '88, 
LeRoy Phillips, '92, 

A. E. Cross, !86, . 

F. G. Burgess, '78, 

B. E. Smith, '77, . 
E. G. Alexa7ider, '81, 

G. IV. Cloak, '76, . 
H. M. Chase, '91, . 

John Bigham, '87, 
LeRoy Phillips, '92, 
W. H. Sybrandt, '76, 
W. C. Fitch, '86, . 
W. C. Fitch, '86, . 
A. E. Cross^ '86, . 
A. E. Cross, '86, . 
W. B. Thorp, '87, . 
K. W. Holmes, '92, 

C. W. Votaw, '88, . 
S. O. Hartwell, '88, 



PAGE 
72 
3S 
25 
65 
91 

53 
26 

96 

59 
94 

70 

75 
68 

97 

34 

100 

51 

9^ 

57 
61 

90 
30 

-I 

lOI 

49 
87 

23 
84 

63 
93 
32 

55 
45 
35 
42 

95 



INTRODUCTION. 

College Verse, like College Song, has a flavor 
peculiar to itself. Exalted literary merits cannot 
be claimed for it, — the average undergraduate, even 
the extraordinary undergraduate who writes College 
Verse, has, as a rule, neither ideas especially worthy 
perpetuation 'nor dexterity of style for their expres- 
sion, — and the work he turns out may appear to 
mature and impartial critics to be very crude and 
boyish. It would be inversion of the natural order 
of mental growth if such crudity were not found in 
writers so young as these. Nevertheless, by intelli- 
gent critics. College Verse is not absolutely to be 
condemned. Pretentious work of any sort is beyond 
the powers of student versifiers. But in the lighter 
forms of writing, which demand delicacy of touch, 
buoyancy of spirit, grace and freshness of expres- 
sion, — the kind of writing that the vers de societe of 
recent years represents, — here the college man may 






6 INTRODUCTION. 

find a place, and a place that perhaps no one can 
fill with quite his success. The charm of this light 
verse consists in its spontaneity, its impersonality, 
its freedom from the restraints of actual life, — and 
these qualities belong distinctively to college men, 
or, if you please, college boys. Student versifiers 
having now in a great measure realized their powers 
and their limitations, their work has lost its worst 
defect, of insincerity, and is as deserving of intelli- 
gent discriminating notice as that of* the maturer 
singers. Now and then, also, a real poet appears 
among them, to whom the higher things are not 
altogether forbidden, and who lifts up the whole 
level of undergraduate writing. 

After all, however, the chief interest of college 
writing as such must spring from its associations. 
Its appeal must be to college men, past and present, 
as an incarnation of the atmosphere, the point of 
view, wherein lies the charm of college life and 
memories. It is as an expression of the under- 
graduates of Amherst, — their life and ideals, their 
shortcomings and boyishness as well, that this volume 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

finds its excuse for being. It would quicken in 
alumni and students of Amherst the memories of 
their Alma Mater, — memories of the intellectual 
influences and surroundings of those early years, 
just as of the friendships and fellowships of student 
days, and the setting of hill and valley and river 
about the quiet town. 

The aim of the editors has been to represent as 
nearly as might be the verse-writing of the college 
in its completeness. No single period, no one variety 
of writing has been exclusively put forward ; if the 
greater part of the selections are of recent date, the 
reason is to be found in the finer work of the last 
few years. 

To the many friends, among the Faculty and the 
alumni, who have given advice and assistance in 
the preparation of the volume, the editors would 
express their sincere thanks for this kindness. 

A. B. MacNeill, 
J. M. Clapp. 

Amherst^ A/ass. y June, i8go. 



Aifna Matefy live forever^ 

Cr(nvned with coronet of light^ 
Girdled fair with ivealth and heaut\\ 

Robed ifi purity and white. 
A fid as time upon the temples 

Leaves the silver print of ^ays^ 
May thy sons in growing circles 

Sing the chorus of thy praise. 
Into truest life and beauty 

Proudly, grandly, ever groiv: 
Every year a brighter blessing 

To thee, from thee, ceaseless flow. 
Ei^ery morn a rarer promise 

Break upon thee with the light; 
Every eve a fairer laurel 

Grace thy purple and the white. 



William Dwight Porter Bliss. 
(From Ivy Poem, ^78.) 



•Ct 



CLASS-DAY POEM, 
'86. 

AMHERST MEMORIES. 



INTRODUCTION. 

Brave Berthold the Dane, as the legends tell. 
Was ever befriended by fairy charm; 
And when in the battle a chance of harm 

Might come to the hero, or it befell 

The foe had attained to the victory. 

And Berthold, all bleeding and sadly torn,. 
Lay dying of wounds he had bravely borne. 

Ah! then was he saved from his agony. 
And, carried away by a fairy's power. 
Was lovingly healed in her mystic bower. 

For magical arts had the lady fair. 

And dearly she yearned for the hero's life; 
No mother's fond love or a mortal wife 

Could watch by the loved one with such a care; 

She bore him away to her fairy isle, 

And there did she nurse him so tenderly 



12 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

That soon he was free from his misery. 
But when the great hero was healed, awhile, 
For love of his soul, she entranced him there, 
Then sent him to Denmark to do and dare. 

Again for his country he battles, bold; 

Again do his countrymen hail their chief, 
And Danes are the braver for their belief 

That fairies are guarding their brave Berthold. 

But often the hero in stress of strife 

Is weary of battle, and longs once more 
For mystical love, and the sunny shore 

Of far away isles, till his fairy wife 
Again will return, and most lovingly 
Will bear him to bowers of the distant sea. 

Now such a fond fairy is Love for thee. 

Dear Amherst, old Amherst, so bright and fair! 
And so in years hence when I fight with care, 

With worry of wealth or of poverty. 

With perils of want when my soul is faint. 
At times when I wearily drag me on 
My dusty routine till my strength is gone. 

And life is discouraged with sore complaint. 
Ah! then will my fairy return to me. 
And Love shall awaken my memory. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 1 3 

With kindliest grace and with gentle smile, 
She'll bear me away to her happy home, 
Where sunlight still shines and no sorrows come, 

Away, yes away, to her blessed isle, 

Far over the oceans of time and space. 

Beyond all the work that my life has done, 
Away from its victories lost or won. 

Back, back, till again I may see the place 

Where four of my happiest years were spent. 
And life ran a-rollic with merriment. 

The happy old days will be born anew, 

So dreamy with music and Amherst glee; 
Her hills and her halls once again I'll see; 

The birds will be singing, the sky be blue, 

As sunniest heavens of "Auld Lang Syne"; 
ril bury the present, and vvrelcome joys 
Of college and life with the college boys. 

For youth will then rule and the sun will shine. 
And Love, the fond fairy, will carry me 
To happiest visions of memory. 



14 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



AMHERST SONGS. 



FIRST MEMORY. 



Guitars! guitars! their tones are ringing, 

Again I hear their melodies, 
And to my heart their strains are bringing 

A host of college memories. 

Once more upon the green we're lying 
Behind the church or by the hall, 

Once more upon the night is dying 

Our "Here's to Amherst," best of all. 

For college boys alone can sing them. 
Those songs of sweet hilarity ; 

Their careless happy life can ring them 
With grace so careless and so free. 

O life of lives! 'tis worth the living, 
Life's care and sorrow, once to be 

A college boy in college, giving 
His days to mirth and jollity. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 

No sun SO glad the day will brighten, 
No moon so sweet the night will see, 

As suns that Amherst hills did lighten 

And moons that Amherst hearts set free. 

For then were joyous boys parading, 
With torches bright for victory. 

And then our lips were serenading 

While sweet eyes smiled bewitching! y. 

Aye! college life is mirrored brightly 
In college songs, with frolic rife; 

One sweet guitar will tell you rightly 
The secret charm of college life. 



1 6 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



AMHERST HILLS. 



SECOND MEMORY. 



Hills to the North! where, a slumbering lion, 
Tobey lies crouched in his carven pride; 

Unto eternity your inspiration 

For the beholder shall still abide. 

Oft have I wandered your mighty sides over, 
Felt the wild vigor your summit gives, 

Climbed o'er your oaken spurs, roamed through 
your gorges. 
Lived the sweet life that a dreamer lives. 

Hills to the East! where the early arbutus 
Tenderly trails o'er your pastured lands, 

Where with its glory and crowning of spruces, 
High o'er the Orient, Pisgah stands; 

Who that hath stood by the church, on the Sabbath, 
Viewing your heights, with the vale between 

Sloping away to the bright-bordered river. 
Dared to imagine a fairer scene ? 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 1 7 

Hills to the South! your most beautiful rampart 
Ever appears, when our hearts recall 

Glorious Amherst, that lover of beauty, 
Dearly beloved, for its southern wall. 

Like a high soul, that from trial and sorrow 
Gaineth a sweetness more pure and fine. 

Here hath this rampart, ice worn and storm riven, 
Grown to a loveliness more divine. 

Hills to the West! but a curtain of beauty 

Suddenly rises before my eyes. 
For on the nearer and dearer horizon 

Views of the College of love arise. 

I cannot look to those far away hill-tops, 
When in the interval thou art seen. 

Beautiful Hampton! the queen of the valley! 
Amherst, the prince, now salutes its queen. 



Lo, it is sunset! again I am standing 

On the high look-out of college tower; 

Over the meadows the bell of Old Hadley 
Softly proclaimeth the twilight hour. 



1 8 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

Up to the North, where the Sugar-loaf mountain 
Raises its ruddy bluff, stern and bold, 

Lordliest monarchs of light and of darkness 
Meet on their Field of the Cloth of Gold. 

Off in the West, all the daughters of azure, 
Clouds are enrobed in their rich array; 

Southward the altars on Holyoke are burning 
Tributes of fire to the Lord of Day. 

Now doth a holy light rest upon Amherst; 

Tenderly, Strength from the hills descends, 
Leading the heart to the Heart of all Beauty, 

Who unto Amherst His beauty lends. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 1 9 



AMHERST FRIENDSHIPS. 



THIRD MEMORY. 

Of all the joyous happy visions 

That Love shall summon to Her call, 

It surely will be sweet to treasure 
Our college friendships most of all. 

O college life, and dear old Amherst! 

You granted many a boon to me, 
But better gift was never given 

Than that of college comradery. 

For then our hearts were freely opened, 
And there our lives' best impulse flowed; 

No thought of benefit accruing 

Could stain the flame that purely glowed. 

It was a generous flame and joyous; 

It seared away all selfish pride; 
O happy days when self was banished. 

And heart in heart could so confide! 



20 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

It was as pure as it was happy, 

And though it burned our faults away, 

And flared at times perhaps too rudely, 
Its blessed brand shall ever stay 

As long as manhood reigns in Amherst, 
As long as honor treads her hills; 

As long as hearts are proudly beating. 
And human love its joy instils. 

So long shall rule this glad communion, 
So long shall college fellowship 

Be something that the world shall treasure. 
And never willingly let slip. 

And most of all, my Alma Mater, 
May thy dear name still typify 

The friendship human hearts may cherish. 
Till " white and purple " cease to fly. 

, ENVOI. 

Such are my memories of Amherst, 
And so in years far down life's way, 

My love for thee, blest Alma Mater, 
Shall summon them and they obey. 

Allen Eastman Cross, 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 21 



MEMORIAL DAY. 



Cover their graves with flowers, 
Who in the heavy hours 

When the war-cloud 
Hung in their native sky, 
Went forth with cheers to die. 

Eager and proud. 

Finished the dread affray, 
Lightly we speak to-day 

Of that grim strife ; 
Sacred to them the cause, 
Who in the cannon's jaws. 

Yielded up life. 

Over each soldier's grave. 
Let the bright banner wave 

For which he died ; 
For 'though his lips are dumb. 
His deeds in time to come 

Will be our pride. 



22 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

Over our blood-bought land, 
Let every childish hand 

Its tribute pay, 
In fragrant offerings meet, 
In boughs and blossoms sweet. 

And garlands gay. 

Gather with reverent tread 
Over the patriot dead. 

Sleeping beneath ; 
Better than sculptured stone, 
Dim-lettered and moss-grown. 

The May-flower wreath. 

Weave it of blossoms rare. 
Lay it with tender care 

Over each mound. 
Pass not a soldier by. 
The grass plots where they lie 

Are hallowed ground. 

To death and prison-pen, 
Gayly they marched as when 

Out on parade ; 
Theirs not to grasp the prize. 
Theirs but the sacrifice. 

Manfully paid. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 2^ 

While through the sunlit arch, 
Emblem of freedom's m£frch, 

Our flag shall wave, 
Treasure the sacred dust. 
Cherish the nation's trust, 

The patriot's grave. 

Edwin George Alexander. 



TRIOLET. 



Apple-blossoms, flakes of brightness. 
See them blooming everywhere. 

Orchards glow with rose-touched whiteness ; 

Apple-blossoms, flakes of brightness — 

Swift they fly with fairy lightness 
Snowing in the mild May air ; 

Apple-blossoms, flakes of brightness. 
Soft are drifting everywhere. 

LeKoy Phillips. 



24 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



Ly4ND AND SEA. 



From the German, 



An isle lies dreaming far upon the sea, 
With mossy ruins it is thickly strewn, 

With myrtles green and laurels towering free 
And fragrant thyme luxuriantly o'ergrown. 

Naught but the sky and glistening clouds around. 

The sea rolls ever in with thundering sound. 

And dashing on the cliffs the white surf gleams, — 
I often hear it dashing in my dreams. 

At midnight hour, within the misty gloom. 

The ruined walls are seen to rise once more, 

The island king emerges from his tomb, 

Around him knights and vassals as of yore. 

And gentle pages join with ladies fair 

In shadowy dance ; and in the ruins bare 

Flash up the while the torches' ruddy beams, — 
I often see them flashing in my dreams. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 25 

And on through flashing foam and rolling swell 
The sea-gods come to join the festal scene. 

The air resounds with blasts of trumpet shell, 
With touch of harpstrings and of lyre serene ; 

And over all the billows' thundering might 

The song of mermaids ringing through the night 
An answering echo from the laurels seems, — 
I often hear it echoing in my dreams. 

Henry Bullard Richardson. 



ON A KISS FROM DL 



There she trips, — 
Dainty Di, Eve's fairest daughter ; 
Brute is he whose mouth don't water 
For the intoxicating bliss 
Of a precious, honeyed kiss 
From her lips. 

William Clyde Fitch, 



26 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



RESIGNATION. 

An Outline Study. 

A calmly grand and sweetly patient face, 
The perfect reflex of a perfect prayer : 

A picture of rare grace 
In massive setting of her glorious hair. 

Eyes with the softened longings of a soul 
That search the misty-reach with tuned accord. 

Content in chastened love 
To wait the pleasure of her risen Lord. 

She standeth at the casement, looking down 
O'er stubbly fields, and leafless, barren trees 

Now fiercely gaunt and brown. 
And dumbly shivering in the wintry breeze. 

And standing there she hears without a sigh 
The Miserere for the dying year, 

That rises slow on high 
And climbs in shuddering wail into her ear. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 2 J 



TO A SISTER OF CHARITY. 

Bewitching devotee, 
Thy shapeless garments cannot hide the grace 

And faultless symmetry 
Of thy fair form and vigil-chastened face. 

Thine eyes serene and pure 

Look out with glance demure 
Upon the world whose pleasures thou hast tried, 

And turned away 
With heart unsatisfied 

To fast and pray. 

I count it grievous sin 
Such lips should pout within a cloistered nook, 

And cruel discipline 
Disturb thy maiden dreams with bead and book. 

Thou shouldst have been a wife 

And crowned some noble life 
With love's bright garland of immortal flowers. 

Such loveliness as thine 
In beauty's silken bowers 

Was meant to shine. 



28 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

Though thou hast left the woes, 
The sudden shocks and sharper griefs of earth 

Outside the sacred close 
Whose arches shudder at the sound of mirth, 

I fancy, now and then. 

Sweet visions come again. 
And tender voices whisper in thy cell 

Love-laden rhymes 
That made thy bosom swell 

In former times. 

It is a cruel creed 
That bids thy heart cast off all human ties ; 

A selfish world has need 
Of gentle counsels and sweet sympathies. 

He, whose handmaid thou art, 

When here, lived not apart 
From hearts and homes, but shared our joys and ills. 

And so must thou 
If thy young heart fulfills 

Its solemn vow. 

Edwin George Alexander. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 29 



DETERMINATION. 

Did you ever love a maid 
Who called herself quite staid, 

And said you must not hold her hand or seize it ? 
Whose smile was yet so sweet, 
And whose pretty hand petite 

Just filled you with a mad desire to squeeze it? 

One whose rosy little cheek 

Seemed to bid you come and seek 
What the pouting, dainty lips forbade you ? 

Whose sparkling, dancing eye 

Seemed daring you to try, 
Till you had a wild desire to, — say, had you ? 

I will own I am in love 

With a maiden as above, 
And rU tell you now a secret; it is this: — 

Next time the pretty creature, 

With every piquant feature. 
Seems to tempt me, I shall steal from her a kiss ! 

irUIiam Clyde Fitch. 



30 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



THOUGHT. 



The Thought is the unknown ; the gorgeous flame 

Is seen but in consuming, and the mind 

Doth ponder o'er its ashes, remnants small. 

Yet there are joyous figments, fantasies 

Which make the heart beat and the spirit throb 

With boldest longings, from these cinders formed ; 

The bright reflections of profoundest hope. 

Some, with the passionate strength of faith, do form 

Them into prophecies, and blindly dream. 

Intoxicate with their own madness ; some 

Do build high schemes of hope, religion's heights; 

Some call them facts, eternal verities. 

And curve and square them as to them seems best. 

While some, the happiest, dream that they are dreams. 

And wander dreaming till the end doth come. 

Benjamin Eli Smith. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 3 1 



yESPER SPARROW. 



Where the May-flowers' sweet perfumes 
Scent the soft Spring air, and blooms 
Of the laurel now may show 
Ruddy clusters, where the glow 
Of the pink azaleas greet 
Loving eyes that chance to meet 
With their beauty, there I lay 
At the close of one June day. 
Stretched upon the upland grass. 
Watching till the light should pass 
Into darkness, and the hills 
Lose that soft blue haze which fills 
All their upland dells and valleys — 
^Watching till those dreamy galleys 
Of the clouds should anchor hold. 
Yielding up their treasured gold 
To the shadows. Far below 
Passed the cattle to and fro 
In the pastures. All around 
Nothing broke the air, no sound 



I 



32 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

Save at times the far sweet tinkling 

Of a sheep bell, while the twinkling 

Of the night's first herald star 

Signaled on the sky afar 

Of the night's approach. I stirred 

As to go, but sudden heard 

One sweet bird note, softly dropped 

On the still dusk air; I stopped. 

Waited, listened there, until 

Over me there passed the thrill 

Of a solemn love, a feeling 

Sweet and sacred, as came stealing 

Once again, so plaintive, wild. 

Trill and quaver undefiled 

By a mortal taint. A lull 

Of some spirit wonderful 

Fell upon the upland heights. 

Blended with the waning lights 

Of the clouds, until I seemed 

To be one with all, or dreamed 

That God's love was in the air. 

As that bird ceased singing there. 

Allen Eastman Cross. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. ^^ 



CHRISTMAS NIGHT. 



A little Babe, born lowly as could be ; 
A starry night, a shed where cattle live ; 
A gift, that gave thee all God had to give, 
The Saviour of the world, of you and me! 

Ye sorry hearts, your weary burdens lift, 
Let praises, joyful sung, rise to the stars. 
Lo! here is come the balm for all your scars, 
God sends His Son to comfort, precious gift! 

A little Babe, a Holy Birth, the sky 
Resounding with the angels' songs of this 
Glad night, the heavens bursting nigh with bliss! 
This night the world is saved, you are, and I. 

IViliiam Clyde Fitch. 



34 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



THE BURDEN. 



Methought the earth grew weary as it sped 

Throygh sinful space, 
Like one who seeks, in wretchedness and dread, 

A resting place. 

No rest it found, but ever onward went 

Its woeful way. 
Restrained by loathsome tides of sin that lent 

Pain to each day. 

As, torn by winter wind, the pine groves moan 

With mournful sound, 
The laden earth gave utterance to a groan 

Of grief profound. 

As if from dungeons or fierce fields of war, 

The wailing came. 
Quivering away to stars that gazed afar 

On earth's deep shame : 



AMHERST MExMORIES. 35 

" O Stars who glide in tranquil paths of peace, 

O sisters dear, 
From this dark burden show me some release ; 

My sad cry hear." 

Whereat the holy stars moved slowly on, 

Nor ceased their flight, 
Until, methought, they formed a cross that shone 

With healing light. 

John Bigham. 



IVAITING. 



I love thee, darling! Couldst thou know 
My love for thee, then wouldst thou show 

Some favor slight 

For love's delight. 

But yet, unmindful of the love 

Which knows no bounds for thee, sweet dove,- 

So coy thou art 

To waiting heart. 



36 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

To thee my life I give each day ; 
Devotion's every act I pay ; — 

But all in vain 

Return to gain. 

In vain from thee one word I seek, 
Or look, or glance, quick to bespeak 

My passion learned. 

My love returned. 

My love, I wait to gain from thee 

A heart which thou canst give to me ; — 

A gift so free 

All mine to be. 

When this shall be, why should I care 
So that it come ? Till then I bear 

All anxious strife 

For thee, my life. 

Kii'k Wilder Holmes. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 37 



A ROSE. 



I found thee on the ball-room floor last night, 

Forgotten, unheeded, 
Crushed by her ruthless foot while my soul's might 

A vain love-suit pleaded. 
And as she bruised thee 
Sweeter fragrance didst thou proffer 
Than in freedom, blooming in the sunny field. 

So she refused me — 
Stronger love my heart did offer 
Bruised and broken, sweeter love my heart did yield. 
Ah! what nestles to thy heart so near, 
A dew-drop, — or a tear? 

Albert Spragtte Bard, 



38 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



O'ER SILENT LANDS. 



O'er silent lands falls soft the autumn eve ; 

Earth seems to grieve, 
So deep and strong a spell doth darkness weave. 

The fallen leaves are sad and cold ; so still they lie 

As men that die ; 
No winds of night to give them sound pass by. 

The summer thistles still for winter wait ; 

Here mourns its fate 
The whitening golden-rod, disconsolate. 

The asters withered splendor strive to hide 

Here close beside ; 
The sumachs all have lost their crimson pride. 

No life, no color, meets my tear-dimmed sight. 

No hope, no light ; 
The day has filled its time ; now comes the night. 

From these sad lands I lift my drooping eyes, 

Grown quick more wise ; 
If earth be dull and sad are then the skies ? 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 39 

Above the hills there lingers yet a line 

Of light divine! 
The glare and blaze of day made pure and fine. 

Not yet the night is come ; I still am free ; 

*Tis day for me ; 
While there is light to see by, let me see. 

Lift thou thine eyes, my soul, up toward the west, 

For that is best : 
Not in the day, but in the night comes rest. 

Till now thy gaze o'er silent lands has passed — 

Must this, then, last ? 
Must thou be always thus by earth held fast ? 

Look up! and see what thou art given to see — 

A light for thee ; 
Though sadness be around thee, let it be. 

What though the light must fade and may not stay, 

Hope pass away ? 
When darkness falls it is no longer day. 

Live thou thy day, the whole, not part, but all. 

Till night shall fall ; . 
Thus only is rest earned, not some, but all. 

George Bosivorth Churchill, 



40 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



BY THE NIGHT SEA. 



Where stalwart pines o'erhang a craggy sea, 
Their somber shadows rocking on the surf, 
Star-hushed, I lie upon the scanty turf. 

Silent in a slow-thoughted reverie. 

The still grand moon rises triumphantly. 
And hoary ocean, at her golden birth, 
Smiles like a young Endymion, while the earth 

From her broad meadows breathes low melody. 

O what a calmed wonder overskies 

The heart, grown still with looking on the waves, 
Where the eternity of beauty lies! 

Kissing the softened waters Dian laves ; 
And ceaselessly upon the night arise 

Ten thousand echoes from harmonious caves. 

George Merriam Hyde, 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 4 1 



D/'5 MITTEN. 



Tho' a crumpled glove it be, 
Yet 'tis precious, — just to me ; 

It was Di's. 
And the little hand that wore it, 
Heavens, did I not adore it! 

With what sighs, 
Have I pressed those finger tips,* 
Longing to try with my lips 

Sweeter, prize. 

Such a darling little shape, 
Just the hand you want to take 

In your own. 
And to call the owner dear, too. 
While you're sitting very near, too, 

And alone. 
If a man will try and see. 
He will find, to love, he'll be 

Very prone. 



42 AMHERST MExMORIES. 

She was very sweet and shy 
When I whispered, " Lovely Di, 

Be mine, love! " 
When her pretty hand I sought, too, 
When I thought her fairly caught, too, 
She fled from me with a start, 
Gave me smiling, not her heart, 

But her glove. 

William Clyde Fitch, 



IVELCOME TO JUNE. 



Month of roses, hail! we greet thee. 
LingVing by the way, 
Dallying with May, 
Thou art tardy, yet we meet thee 
With a welcome warm and bright 
As the merriest of thy light, 
And in royalty would seat thee. 
Gorgeous in array. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 43 

Thou art ushered in with singing, — 
Birds are everywhere, 
Decked in plumage rare. 
By their beauty true joy bringing. 
And their little voices trill 
Notes which make all Nature thrill. 
While the woods and glades are singing, 
Music fills the air. 

Flowers and verdure thou art strewing 
With a bounteous hand 
O'er the dreary land. 
Nature's harshness thus subduing. 
Roses bloom in lavish waste. 
Shower their fragrance in their haste, 
Blush and perish with the doing. 
By thy zephyrs fanned. 

Thou dost fill all life with pleasur-e. 
Flooding hearts with joys, 
Making hearts but toys. 
Glee and jollity thy treasure. 
Mirth and merrymaking reign, 
Sports and pastimes rule again ; 
Fresh and gay in boundless measure. 
Thou bring'st no alloys. 

Clyde Weber Votaw. 



44 ' AMHERST MEMORIES. 



AN AUTUMN REl^ERIE. 



Wind of autumn, breathing spices^ 

Ravished from the woods and fields, 
In thy song a spell entices 

Stronger than a wizard wields. 
I obey thee. Be thou master ; 

Guide my feet o'er vale and rill. 
Lead me onward ever faster 

'Mid the cornstalks on the hill. 

Let my path be long and winding, 

Bloom and fragrance fringe the way ; 
Every turn fresh beauty finding 

Fairer than the flush of May. 
Autumn lingers, winter tarries, 

Laughter wings our joyful feet. 
Lighter heart no burden carries. 

In this autumn air so sweet. 

Waldo Edwards Nason, 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 45 



VOICES OF NATURE. 



Beneath the all of nature and of man 
The World-soul throbs unseen, alone ; 

Through endless mazes of an endless plan, 
He weaves a garment of his own. 

For aeons solitary hath he wrought 

With patient, unremitting care ; 
No other soul was there to think his thought 

Or his divine emotions share. 

At length the Weaver's lonely toil untold 
With sweet companionship is crowned ; 

Within himself a myriad selves unfold 
That have in him their being found. 

Unrecognized, with life-bestowing power 
'^^he World-soul in their hearts abides ; 

Beneath the cloud-form lurking and the flower 
Creator from his creature hides. 



46 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

Still o'er his child with tenderness he broods ; 

He lingers lovingly, concealed 
Beneath the masks of nature's changing moods, 

And yet not wholly unrevealed. 

The sunset sky with gorgeous coloring bright. 
That dies in evening's somber gray ; 

The star-strewn vault of queenly night ; 
The faint rose-tints of breaking day ; 

The low, cool gurgle of the flowing rill ; 

The elm's majestic, stately grace ; 
The mellow roundness of the distant hill. 

That fades into the sky's embrace ; 

The sob of ocean's surge, the storm's wild voice 
Why wove the World-soul this disguise. 

This fair and radiant garment of his choice. 
To screen him from a mortal's eyes ? 

Through these fair forms of nature's scroll 
In whispered utterance, soft and low, 

A mute, unworded discourse of the soul ^ 
From nature's heart to man doth flow. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 47 

Faint intimations, mystic, undefined. 

Are breathed from flower and sky and tree : 
Like echoes borne upon the evening wind 
O'er quiet meadows from the sea. 

Thus gently guided by the eternal Mind, 
We trace the mysteries of the unknown, 

Read nature till ourselves we read and find 
The soul of nature in our own. 

Willard Brown Thorp. 



MORNING MISTS. 



With eager step the traveler pushes on. 
Seeking to scale, ere break of morn. 
The mountain's height. 
Whence on the nestling lake and valley he may gaze, 
As o*er them steal the glorifying rays 

Of dawning light. 



48 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

Deep shrouded in the dark encircling folds 
Of driving mist, still in his heiart he holds 
The hope serene. 
That summit reached, the clouds will break away 
And let the pure light of the rising day 

Disclose the scene. 

But closely clinging to the woods and hills 
By alchemy divine the mist distils 
The clearer rays, 
Into a tender, softened veil, which hides 
The lake, the valley, and the mountain's sides 

In mellow haze. 

Every sharp outline dimmed, the landscape seems 
A phantom view from out the land of dreams, 
A sea of gold. 
Yet over all there hangs a tenderer grace 
Than if the untrammeled sun had filled the place 

With beauty cold. 

Shattitck Osgood HartwelL 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 49 



THREE SEASONS. 



Nature's bed-time, 
When her gold-red robes, unbound. 
Fall and leave her naked, shivering. 

And uncrowned. 

Nature slumbers, 
Snugly wrapped in coverlet white. 
Woven fleece from cloudland pastures, 

Soft and light. 

Nature waketh. 
Quick she summons, magic fairy. 
Emerald garments, gemmed with pearls. 

Cool and airy. 

Herhcit Morgan Chase. 



50 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



MATER DOLOROSA. 

By Guido Keui^ at Bologna. 

There is a holy calm in her deep eyes — 
The ebon cup of some dark pool is still, 
And all the moveless freight of stars, which fill 

Its somber depths, doth tell of that which lies 

So far above it ; but the silent skies 

And their mute, starry mirror have no speech 
Or pleading eloquence, that so can reach 

The human heart as that of her deep eyes. 

O Grieving Mother, hath the earth no balm 
Or solace for thee, that for evermore 
Thy raised immortal eyes should thus implore 

The smile of thy blest Son ; and is the calm 

That rests within them but the fond light thrown 

From His dear eyes, and mirrored in thine own! 

Allen Eastman Cross. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 5 I 



THE NEIV MOON. 



The slender sickle of the new-born moon 

Cleaves a clear path adown the western sky, 
It glances on the river flowing by 

And hides behind the hills, too soon, too soon. 

The air is warm a% is the air of June, 
And purple-clear as Italy's. On high. 
Above the peaks twin stars of evening lie, 

Chanting together their mysterious tune. 

Across the valley faintly floats the ringing 
Of bells of evening. Nature on all sides 
Is whispering peace, and memory backward glances 

Unto the Past, a silver mantle flinging 

O'er rock, and bay, and softly-flowing tides 

Where late I floated under moonlight's lances. 

George Noyes Whipple. 



52 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



DAIVN. 



On the heavens' jetty floors, 

Jewel tiled, 
Gauzy bands, unrolling slowly. 
Spread their luster faint and holy, 

Forth beguiled • 
Through reluctant sunward doors. 
Dim hangs the misty frost-veil over calmly slumb'ring 

hills. 
Soon their dreaming loveliness 
At the dawn beam's chaste caress 
Mutelv wakes : 
The sleep charm breaks ; 
Swift fades the hazy frost-veil from the beauty of 

the hills. 

Jo/in Bigham. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 53 



REBUKED. 



I saw her kneel in church, so sweet and pure, 

With face demure 
Bowed down ; and eyelids with dark sweep 

Of lash, to keep 
Out worldly sight, which only maddened me 

Anxious to see 
The beauty of the eyes they hid beneath. 

The merry teeth 
Hushed calm by lips, boon truly for love's song. 

That made me long 
To be a little prayer on them to lie. 

Be breathed and die. 
And while I gazed a sunbeam kissed her hair, 

A halo there 
Shone deep into my heart, rebuking sweet. 
Belief burst all upon me, at His feet 

I knelt in prayer. 

William Clyde Fitch. 



54 AMyERST MEMORIES. 



EASTER DAY. 

O day of days for bruised hearts I O rest most meet 
For weary bearers of great crosses ! Comfort sweet 
To lonely souls ; and sympathy for tearful eyes ; 
To-day, the Saviour Christ is risen to the skies ! 

And the angelic joy, the bliss, the ecstasy, 
Ringing through Heaven, echoes soft in you, in me. 
With those whom God has taken, who rejoice above, 
Our own hearts, reaching, sing in harmony through 
love. 

Let every heart its Easter celebrate; let those, 
Our joys, in deep grief buried, rise as He arose. 

Come chant with glad lips, save the live, there are 

no dead I 
By hope, and peace, and joy, let every soul be led. 

The anthems, gladness, Easter buds and blossoms, tell 
One glory all, — the Risen Lord, — transform the knell 
Into the ring of victory, a joyous strain, — 
"In Him shall all be made alive!" divine refrain! 

JViliiam Clyde Fitch, 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 55 



l^IRGIN AND CHILD. 

By SassoferraiOy in the Vatican. 

The lily on still waters is at peace, 

And over it the woods hang dreamily. 
There seems no motion in the earth or sky, 

Save where the lonely moon doth never cease 

Its silent drifting, till the sun release 

The lily and the landscape from the gloom. 
Ah, then the morning comes ; the lily's bloom 

Doth grace the sunny air ; in sweet caprice 

The joyous day hath touched the lily lids 

With her fond smile ; and lo, the golden heart 
Is open on the waters, while apart 

The petals lie, for 'tis the sunshine bids. 
So liest Thou, Dear Babe, in perfect rest. 
Such will Thy waking be upon her breast. 

Allen Eastman iTross. 



56 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



A RONDEAU. 

For St. Valentine's Day. 

My Valentine I prithee be, 

Sweet maid, who art so dear to me. 

I love thee for thy bonny eye. 

It glances, — and I fain would die, 
If only I might die for thee. 

Thy cheeks, — none rosier can I see, 
I love them also greedily, — 
A lover of thee all am I, 
My Valentine! 

Those pouting lips, — for them I sigh. 
O, if I were a butterfly. 

Or if I were a honey-bee, 

I know where / for sweets would flee! 
That now of course I dare not try. 
My Valentine! 

William Clyde Fitch, 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 57 



THE WANING YEAR. 



The Summer bloom is spent in Autumn's chill. 
When lo! October's touch has turned the woods , 
To glowing fire. The short'ning days are still. 
Long grow the nights. I hear November's blast. 
To brown, the maple's gold and red are changed : 
The ling'ring verdure dies. The leaves fall fast, 
And rustling drift upon the frozen ground. 

The russet cornfields shiver in the dawn, 

And frowning clouds hang low, the while frail mists 

Steal o'er the frosty mead. All birds are gone 

In flight, to seek a warmer Southern sky. 

Thus Autumn robes the earth in gloomy garb, 

Drear Winter's step is heard, the snow clouds fly, — 

So wanes the ling'ring year, and so is past. 



Willard Brown Thorp, 



58 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



CHILDHOOD LAND. 



In Childhood-land 

A merry band 
Of Hght-souled children hand-in-hand 

Fill life's May-day 

With eager play 
While time glides lingeringly away. 

A beauteous land 

On whose white strand 

The blue sea's ripples kiss the sand 
Where snow-winged ships 
,Dart from the slips 

Like holy thoughts from childhood's lips. 

A holy land, — 

Love's mystic wand 
Wards off the thrust of sin's keen brand, 

And evening air 

Is everywhere 
Hushed with sweet words of childish prayer. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 59 

O fatherland — 

By hard command 
From thee forever gone, we stand 

In Manhood-land 

So toilsome, grand, 
And yearn for thee, O Childhood-land. 

John Bigham. 



SERENADE. 



Something in this summer night 

Leads my roving will, 
Something in the soft moonlight 

Keeps me near thee still. 

Here what late I dared not say — 
All my heart doth long — 

Lady dear, this night I may 
Breathe to thee in song. 



6o AMHERST MEMORIES. 

Standing in thy garden shrine, 

Love, I plead with thee ; 
Seest thou these flowers of thine, 

How they plead for me ? 

Lilv never did lament 

Men should find it fair ; 
Rose did never yet repent 

Odors flung to air. 

Then amid thy dreams, my sweet. 

Keep one thought of me, 
Where thy slumber-fancies meet. 

Pure 'mid purity. 

So within thy heart shall I 
This dear night be thine. 

As, while all my nights speed by. 
Thou art always mine. 

George Bosworth Churchill, 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 6 1 



THE SISTINE MADONNA. 

By Raphael^ in the Dresden Gallery. 

A twilight star that rests above the steep 

Of yonder mountains, as the sun goes down, 
Hath stilly resting ; for, the heavens drown 

The bustle of our world. They may not keep 

A sound so petty in their spacious deep ; 
They know no hurry ; passionless and still 
Their far dark spaces rest, and lights which fill 

Their tranquil chambers are as if asleep. 

O Virgin Mother, thou hast purity 

O'ertnatching e'en the heavens' still remove 

From taint of earth. Blest Child, the Christ must be 
Within thine eyes ; and in the trusting love 

Of each for each, the large supremacy 
Of your repose is as a star above. 

Allen Eastman Cross. 



62 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



BEETHOyEN'S FIFTH SYMPHONY. 

The Andante. 

Exquisite nectar of immortal flowers, 

Fine confluence of harmonious joy and pain, 

Glassed in the bosom of thy silvery strain, 

Behold this transitory life of ours. 

We are young awhile ; the thymy winds are sweet, 

Heaven-high we soar ; the meteors lend their wings ; 

Roses are, — love laughs, — the maiden clings, — 

The constellations blaze beneath our feet, — 

Ah, woe, the cold! the wailing trees are bare; 

The stony grasp of an ironic fate 

Holds us ; breezes and billows cry, Too late. 

And Atropos arrived to frosty hair. 

— I hear the tears that fall among thy flowers. 

Ethereal vision of this world of ours. 

E, J. N. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 63 



TH^O WOOINGS. 



I wooed a maiden long ago, 

A blithe and pretty maid was she; 

And I,— 
I loved her, or I thought 'twas so. 
And when I fondly told her, lo. 
She smiled, and sighed, and said, "Oh no! 
It really could not, could not be, — 

Good bye!" 

I loved again, a maiden true. 

And truly loved her, loved her, aye, 

And she? 
With smile so winsome, told me too, 
She lived because I came to woo. 
The rest I need not tell to you, 
How dear, how fair a bride have I. 

Ah me! 

William Clyde Fitch. 



64 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



FULL MOON. 



1 waked. And through the half-shut blind 
A brightness plaided all the counterpane, 
But shone unshadowed on my face. No stain 

Of cloud, no starspeck could I find; 

Methought the search of the Infinite Mind 

Had frighted off heaven's spheres. All space 

lay bare; 
The All-Pervading Eye alone was there. 

That Gaze! the very God behind! 

And scrutinizing me! A world — 

Not price enough — could not have bought 

To judge a friend, or think an impure thought; 

I'd not have dared. As self uncurled 

Its coils from life, beneath that Look, how small 
The finite shrank! and death seemed trivial. 

Albert Spragtie Bard. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. * 65 



ON THE SHORE. 



The lingering stars are dying. 

O'er the bay 

From far away 
The morning breeze comes sighing 

Plaintively ; 
And into life and motion 
Doth wake th« drowsy ocean 
Whose unconscious breast is heaving 

Dreamily. 

The skipper's boat is making 

Seaward now, 

And o'er her bow 
The playful wave is breaking 

Into spray. 
I watch her lightly speeding 
As a white winged bird, receding 
Till she melteth into distance, 

Far away. 

William Ball Colton. 



66 >f AMHERST MEMORIES. 



DI'S SMILE. 



Have you ever seen Di's smile ? 

Oh, 'tis pretty! 
It is very worth your while, 
If you ever hap to meet her, 
Not to miss the chance to greet her 
In the park or on the street, 
To enjoy the subject sweet. 

Of my ditty. 

If it does not stir your heart, 

More*s the pity! 
If you've seen the ripple start, 
Coy with cherried lips opposing, — 
Pearly glimpses, too, disclosing, 
On the rampage, dimples, blushes, — 
What are you that scornful, hushes 

My wee ditty. 

William Clyde Fitch. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 67 



DAY DREAMS. 



Every cloud conceals a castle, 

Though rude winds may break it soon; 
Lives are written on each shadow 

Creeping o'er the hills at noon. 

Boys may win in fiercer battles 
Than their hilted fathers know, 

Youth oft reaps a gladder harvest 
Than its riper years can sow. 

Many song birds shake their pinions 
In this ghostly land of thought. 

Bringing with them sweeter music 

Than the birds of Spring have brought. 

There the student, pale and thoughtful, 
Smooths his furrowed brow an hour. 

There the potency of reason 

Stoops to own a subtler power. 



68 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

There the rustic quits the furrow, 
Halts the spent team in the shade, 

Builds a honeysuckled cottage, 

Wooes and wins a brown-eyed maid. 

Dream on, scholar, and thy forehead, 
Though entwined with laurel leaves. 

Ne'er shall greet a greener chaplet 

Than the wreath which fancy weaves. 

Dream on, peasant, half unconscious. 
Dream beside thy panting team! 

For the fairest of the village 
Is not fairer than thy dream. 

Joseph Brainerd Thrall. 



THE BOOK, 



Slowly at first I perused the book. 
Then, as the story grew. 

Deeply attentive, with eager look, 
I read the volume through. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 69 

Fitful changes, firm hopes, vague fears, 

In the book were typified ; 
Rapidly passed the days and years ; 

Friends came and went ; loved ones died. 

Age carved its runes on the boy's smooth face 
And whitened the maiden's curl ; 

A mighty city usurped the place 

Where the quaint mill ceased its whirl. 

Onward incessantly flowing, the tale 

Bore me along to the end. 
Weeping or joyful, flushed or pale, 

Urged by its deathward trend. 

The words were senseless, each page bound fast 
In the book that lay in my hand ; 

In an hour 1 read it, yet lifetimes passed. 
As if moved by a magic wand. 

Is life a wonder-book printed and bound 

Ere creation's primal glow? 
Its author and printer who has found? 

Shall man the mystery know ? 

John Bighani. 



70 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



SPRING SONG. 



With joyful, boisterous shout and lusty cheer, 

The new-born Spring bursts forth in rapturous 
singing, 
Awakening from her sleep the gay New Year, 

The chimes of the new life with gladness 

ringing — 
The March winds anthems to our hearts are 
bringing, 
The prelude of a tender melody; 

While overhead the birds in swift air winging, 
Their witness give in carols full of glee — 
And light, and love, and truth hold sway — all 
sorrows flee. 

James Herbert Low* 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 7 I 



MY PHYLLIS. 



My Phyllis, O my Phyllis, 

have you seen her, say ? 
A little maiden still at school, 

1 meet her e^'ry day. 

'Tis true I do not know her name. 
But then I love her all the same, — 
One cannot love by any rule, 
My Phyllis, my sweet Phyllis. 

My Phyllis, O my Phyllis, 

With cunning glove of tan. 
With your sunshade brightest scarlet. 
With fascinating fan. 
The glances in your eye that lurk 
Go forth, ah me, to fatal work, — 
You dainty, dangerous coquette. 
My Phyllis, lovely Phyllis. 



72 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

My Phyllis, O my Phyllis, 
I'd fain indeed be wise, 
I know your evVy wile, you see, 
And yet before those eyes, 
I'm glad to stand a target, too. 
And only beg just this of you 
Whom I adore, that you'll love me. 
My Phyllis, darling Phyllis. 

William Clyde Fitch, 



NIGHTFALL 



As calms my roving will 
The evening's still 

At dark, 
I gaze half consciously 
On land and sea. 

And mark 
The stars in grand array 
At set of day 

Grow bright. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 73 

Slow sinks the sun, and fades 
With tinted shades 

The night. 
Whilst now in dreamy guise 
Through half-closed eyes 

The ray 
Of one lone drooping star, — 
O'er waters far 

At play, — 
I watch. A faint light gleams, 
A light that seems 

To grow; 
And sheds the while I gaze 
A mellow haze 

Below. 
From out the billows' brim 
The gilded rim 

Of yon 
Fair moon mounts up to gain 
The heavenly plain. 

Upon 
The earth there seems to fall 
A stillness, all 

Profound; 
Save as with ceaseless beat 
The waves repeat 

Their sound. 

LeRoy Phillips, 



74 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



EPODON. 



Haec institutio Amherst est, 
Omnium collegarum best ; 
Ejus profs, tutores sunt 
Punkins sum. 

Ubi facultatis lex 
Cum potestate et Prex 
Regunt Freshmanorum mores 
Mentes et que. 

Expellunt Sophomores nunc, 
Suspendunt Juniores tunc 
" Cum dignitate " Seniores 
"Otium " capiunt. 

Jam salvete, O salvete, 
Curam for yourselves habete, 
Ne hanc locam relinquetis 
Very suddenly. 

Afton.^ Amherst Scorpion^ 18^2. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 75 



THE LEGEND OF HADLEY. 

From the Class Poem of ^82. 

It may be the elms, those settlers old, — 
Standing like sentinels clad in brown 
Along the streets of the quaint old town, 
With whispering branches that down the line 
Seem forever passing the countersign, — 
Saw the strange event in their far-off youth. 
Perchance to the mountains, at whose feet 
Lie the wide-flung arches of Hadley street, 
The vague tradition is filled with truth. 
If so, they tell not, and while they hold 
Their silence unbroken, still untold 
By those who saw it, the story old 
Remains but a fancy of that far time, 
An idle theme for a poet's rhyme. 

Turn the hands of Time on the dial back 
Along the centuries' vanished track ; 
Unwind the coils of the shining spheres 
That rtiark the flight of two hundred years, 



76 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

And the woods rise about us. Peaceful and still 
Their surface unbroken, on valley and hill 
Lie the waves of the forest. Stealthy and slow 
Through its dim recesses the wild beasts go ; 
And, scarcely less savage or bloody than they 
Through many a tangled and intricate way, 
The red man is seeking his innocent prey. 
'Tis the reign of the autumn, the hectic flush 
Over the landscape proclaims the touch 
Of the frost-king's finger. Far unrolled. 
The forest uplifts its banners of gold. 
Round Holyoke's summit the purple haze 
Speaks of the coming of winter days. 
And, nestling close at the mountain's feet, 
Old Hadley's straggling village street 
Is stirring with life, as to and fro, 
Gathering their stores from the winter snow, 
To their fields and back the settlers go. 

How calm and peaceful! The sharpest eye 

Catches no glimpse of danger nigh, 

Yet it comes to meet them. Oh! that some ear 

Might hear its footsteps drawing near, 

And rouse the people to watch and fear! 

Sudden and sharp a hideous yell. 

Like the angry shout of demons in hell, 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 77 

Rings through the village. A rush of feet, 

Dark figures swarming along the street, 

The hiss of arrows, the flash of knives, 

And the settlers, their innocent babes and wives, 

Go down before the red man's attack 

Like shapes of cloud in the whirlwind's track. 

Helplessly, hopelessly, without a thought 

Of final safety, the white men fought. 

With the stern despair of those who know 

They are facing an angry, implacable foe, 

That gives no quarter. With blow on blow, 

Still closer the painted demons pressed, 

A single thought in each savage breast, — 

To finish the slaughter they had begun. 

When, lo! before the wondering eyes 

Of the startled settlers, seemed to rise 

A strange deliverer, whose face in the sun 

Gleamed like the face of the Shining One. 

With the stirring notes of a battle shout. 

His voice on their anxious ears rang out. 

Like a ray of light in their dark despair, 

They caught the flash of his sword in air, 

They followed the gleam of his long white hair, — 

Followed to victory! Over the dead. 

Among the dying, back he led 



i 



78 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

The living to triumph. Madly through 
The pathless forest the red men flew 
In wild disorder, their conquering shout 
Changed to a cry of despair and rout. 

Flushed with triumph, the settlers turned 
To thank the strange, mysterious one 
Whose timely assistance had led them on, 
To a victory hardly yet surely won, — 
But he had vanished! Language or name. 
Or whither he went, or whence he came, 
Not one among them could venture to say, 
But one whispered low, " Doubt who may, 
I saw in the leader with flaming sword 
A militant saint of our risen Lord. 
Hush your voices, kneel and pray, 
For an angel has fought in your ranks to-day." 



Drifts of snow-flakes and of blossoms 

O'er the ancient town, 
Twice a hundred years have scattered 

Slowly, softly, down ; 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 79 

Till the story of that battle 

Is a legend old, 
But the secret of its leader 

Still remains untold. 

Banished prince, or angel helper. 

Which of these was he ? 
Was he but an outlawed, exiled,- 

Polish refugee ? 

Very little does it matter, 

Let the dark he sought 
Draw its curtains of concealment 

Round the man who fought. 

Only let his strange appearance 
In the surging strife. 
Bring its lesson to the soldiers 
On the fields of life. 

From the dim, mysterious shadows 

Closing round our feet. 
As of old the pathless forest 

Bordered Hadlev street, 



8o AMHERST MEMORIES. 

Stealthy foemen rush to meet us, 

And their fierce attack 
Turns our faces, sends our forces 

Reeling, flying back. 

Till some power above us leads us, 
And a rallying shout 
• Brings us conquest from confusion, 

Victory from rout. 

High or lowly, prince or pauper, 

Who or what he be. 
That inspires us, matters little. 

So that only we 

Let his inspiration guide us. 

Follow, follow on. 
Fierce and breathless, till the deathless 

Victory be won I 

Hosea Gordon Blake. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 8 1 



MATER AMABIUS. 

By Sassoferrato^ in the Church of the Salute at Venice. 

A searching mournfulness is in her gaze : 

Her eyes have tender shadows, and the love 
That rests within them lieth far above 

All reach of passion. Tenderly it weighs 

Like music on one's soul, till it obeys 

The same sweet influence : it hath a spell 
That Cometh like .the twilight in a dell 

Where waters sleep, and thrushes- sing their lays. 

Mater Amabilis, thy dark sweet eyes 

Have made me purer with their tender shade ; 

Upon my soul their holy spell is laid ; 
Mav it rest there forever till there lies 

The same deep power of tenderness in me, 

And I attain thy sweet benignity. 

Allen Eastman Cross. 



82 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



COUP DE GRACE. 



In the moonlight she looked so winning, 
I wondered if it would be amiss, 

Or I should be guilty of sinning, 

To steal from those lips just one kiss. 

" Of what are you thinking ? " she questioned 
From those lips with their sweetness rare. 

"I.was thinking I would like to kiss you; 
But really I don't think I dare." 

" Faint heart never won " — then she faltered, 
And her blushing face vainly she hid ; 

For I raised it. "I'll kiss you — you love me?" 
She said, " Yes, I do," — and I did. 

Frederick James Eugene Woodbridge. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 83 



AT NIGHT. 



The west has lost its fairest flush of red, 

The purple haze whose tender veil held fast 
The far-off hills in soft embrace, has passed 

Away, and only round the mountain's .head 

Clings still in dim-white mist. The day is dead. ^ 
The hills bend close and o'er the river cast 
A sweet and silent sadness, that at last 

Their blue reflected glory all is fled. 

No sound save some low gurgle of the stream 

Or whippoorwill's hoarse call from thicket dank, 
And, save where apple-blooms beyond the bank 

Sigh out their fragrant breath, no odors rise. 

Friend's hand clasps hand, dim eyes look into eyes, 
Each feels that life is not "a fading dream." 

George Bonvorth Churchill. 



84 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



"TRUST HER. STILL." 

From the Class Poem of '76. 

O holy Stars above me, 

O crescent pure and bright, 
Come, tell me, does she love me. 
Dreams she of me to-night ? 
Your answer heed I will, — 
** Trust her still." 

O zephyrs softly sleeping, 

O brooks with pebbly keys, 
Come, soothe my soul, 'tis weeping 
For your sweet harmonies. 
Your music heed I will, — 
"Trust her still." 

O sleep, with downy pinions. 

From dreamland changeful, gay, 
Waft me to your dominions, 
Where Fancy-angels play. 
Your visions heed I will, — 
"Trust her still." 

William Henry Sybraudt, 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 85 



MY DREAM. 



A dream I dreamed 
So natural that naught but life it seemed. 

Distress to bear 
So hard, — and keenest pain, — and this world's care, 
With every struggle, both for love and fame, 
A failure, that I could but pray the same 
Would tempt the Fates to cut the thread of Life, 

To end the strife. 

Awaking now, 
With gratitude, with reverence I bow 

Before that Will 
Who calms all struggles, storms, with " Peace, be 

still ! " 
I own my gladness and my joy rehearse ; 
My dream has taught me lives may oft be worse, 
And with my own true love, I humbly would 

Sing, God is good. 

William Clyde Fitch. 



86 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



LAST yERSES TO DL 



Dear Di, my love for you no more 
I'll sing here, where so oft before 

I've tuned my heart. 
Here other youths their loves will greet, 
Not you, tho' none are half so sweet, 

We must depart. 

Thus Time plays too upon us here ; 
We're soon forgot, a little year 

Our place supplies 
These pages your sweet name has graced, 
On them another's will be placed. 

For others' eyes. 

Perhaps my rhyming has seemed crude. 
But ne'er was man with love imbued 

As I, for vou. 
Men oft have sung in fairer score, 
But I, I love, no less, no more. 

Love thee, adieu. 

William Clyde Fitch, 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 87 



THREE CROWNS. 



An Asian monarch's diadem 
Encrust with many an envied gem 

Resplendent : 
Tears frozen ; life drops turned to stone ; 
Pale crystals, — each a yearning groan 

Ascendant. 

A wreath of glossy olive leaves 

From kneeling world a prince receives 

Disdaining ; 
But soon each frailly clinging leaf 
Sears deep the baffled heart its grief 

Retaining. 

On sad Golgotha's trembling height, 
While shame o'erveils the shrinking light 

Before him, 
His haloed brow with thorns is crowned. 
And kings, who now their king have found, 

Adore him. 

John Bigham. 



8S AMHERST MEMORIES. 



A yiSION. 



I wondered, as- I once lay down to rest, 
If Death with dread and dark uncertainty 
Should come upon me in my sleep and say : 

" I, Death, do summon thee. 

Bid all you love farewell." 

Thus wondering I fell in troubled sleep ; 
And on my sleep a glorious vision came 
Of two fair spirits clad in garments bright ; 

Both bright, yet one was sad ; 

The other calm and sweet. 

Then said the spirit of the saddened face : 

" Why art thou troubled, friend ? See, I would bring 

Thee treasures of the world, fame, honor, wealth, 

All that which men esteem. 

— Wouldst thou not me?" 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 89 

The Other spirit smiled, and all his face 
Shone with a holy light. His voice was like 
Sweet chimes of silver bells when night is still. 

" I bring thee perfect peace. 

— Wouldst thou not me?" 

"Sweet spirit, give me peace," I said, ** but thou 
Whose face is sad in spite of all thou hast. 
What is thy name ? " " My name," he said, " is Life." 
"And thine?" The other then 
Replied : " My name is Death." 

Frederick James Eugene WoodbriSge, 



MORNING. 



Low in the east, the rising sun's first beams 

Light up the sky with silver glow, that seems 

To break the spell in which Night held the earth. 

Then all the birds awake to greet the birth 

Of day ; and in sweet harmony proclaim 

That Night has gone, that Morn has come again. 

Frederick James Eugene Woodbridge. 



90 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



THE FOUNTAIN. 



Brightly glancing 

Lightly dancing, 
Where the sunbeams play, 

Melody breathing, 

Rainbows wreathing 
With its foamy-fingered spray,- 

Quivering, flashing, 

Upward dashing 
Toward the arching blue, 

Heavenward winging, 

The fount is flinging 
Ever pearly showers of dew. 

Its crown it shaketh 

When morning breaketh 
Over hills of gray ; 

Twilight kisses 

Those wind-blown tresses 
Ere it softly steals away. 



Frauds Guild Burgess. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 9I 



ON SEEING A PICTURE OF DL 



No picture do I need to wear 
Thee, Di, upon my heart, or bear 

Thy image within my eyes ; 

There's scarce a moment 'twill not rise, 
Rise, too, with all its girlish beauty, there. 
Yet there, e'en is not all thy beauty rare. 

Then who so foolish as to hope to place 

On common paper thy own lovely face! 
Naught but supernatural power 
Could ever paint so sweet a flower. 

William Clyde Fitch. 



92 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



A SONNET OF THE MOONLIGHT. 



The fair moon wanes, but yet her gentle soul 
Still brooding o'er the valley ceaselessly, 
All things are one by her sweet tyranny: 

Each sense involved in the perfect whole, — 

Felt in the soft grass round yon black oak-bole, — 
Heard in the tone of whippoorwill's soft plea 
Springing from silver depths of scented lea 

That lies soft-veiled beneath the lonely knoll. 

The far gray mountains bow their ancient heads ; 
The stream below glides gently on its way, 

Whereon the moon as lovely graces sheds 
As 'twere no muddy water-power by day. 

Dull fears, wild hopes are gone, — nay, all save rest. 

*' Sweetness and peace," I breathe, " these are the 
best." 

Henry IValcott Boynton. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 93 



UNLOCKED. 



I could not speak what yet I often wished to say ; 
A pretty compliment I'd think, but — puff, awa)'^ 
It fiew on wings, before I gave it breath, the while 
Another's graceful words had won the longed-for 

smile. 
Then lo, a miracle, — no warning, forth there rushed 
All that I e'er had thought of grace, and lips had 

hushed. 
Devotion, adoration, nothing left to seek. 
At last love opened wide my lips and let me speak. 

William Clyde Fitch. 



94 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



SONG. 



The voice of bells at even 

Floats softly o'er the bay ; 
And laughing, sighing, sobbing, 
Above the moonlight throbbing. 

Dies sweetly far away. 

While low the bells are chanting 

At passing of the day. 
My heart is muffled beating. 
Those tender tones repeating 

That ling'ring die away. 

For thus time's echoes ever. 
That o'er life's waters stray. 

Beyond our ken receding. 

Into the dark night speeding. 
Are dying far away. 

Francis Guild Burgess. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 95 



WIND yOICES. 

Hither and yon the gay winds blow, 

Now from the tropics, now o'er endless snow, 

Steeped in the spices of Pacific lands. 

Fierce with the heat from far Sahara's sands ; 

Lashing the sea in billows mountain high. 

Stealing through groves of pine with mournful sigh 

That seems an echo from the grave. Once more. 

Rippling the waters on the distant shore, 

The wind with touch of velvet passes by. 

As 'neath the glories of a starlit sky. 

Careless of heart, we glide along, 

Breaking the calm of night with joyful song. 

Within their airy folds they carry fast 

The diverse influence of a whole world's past; 

Until ^olus' harp, touched by their breath, 

Which wakes the tense strings from their silent 

death. 
Blends hurricane and zephyr in a strain 
That has no discord in its grand refrain. 
Note follows note in one harmonious whole, — 
A chant evoked from Nature's deepest soul. 

Shattuck Osgood Hartwell. 



g6 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



RONDEL. 



Cupid dwells within thine eyes, 

Hiding in their shadowy deeps, — 

Where in lotus-warmth he lies 

Plunged in truant, mocking sleeps. 

There the flickering love-tints rise 
That thy proud will hardly keeps. 

Cupid dwells within thine eyes, 
Hiding in their shadowy deeps. 

I'll no more of timorous sighs — 
No more see the frown that leaps 

From thy brow — it quickly flies — 
From thy lids the elf-lord peeps. 

Cupid dwells within thine eyes, 
Hiding in their shadowy deeps. 

Henry Walcott Boynton. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 97 



THE GLEN. 



There is a nook among the distant hills 

Which every morning with sweet perfume fills 

Of fragrant wild flowers, with the note of bird 

And woodland voices, which, by echo heard, 

Come back in stiller melody of fading song. 

A little brook, slow creeping all day long 

O'er grassy slopes that in their thirst 

Drink of its cooling streams, seems here to burst 

With pent up laughter, as all bubbling o'er 

It leaps from rock to rock. Back from the shore 

The steep banks rise with rugged cliffs that frown 

Upon the little stream. Cold drops flow down 

Like tears along their wrinkled faces, as they weep 

For their hard lot, since they must ever keep 

An endless watch upon the peaceful glen. 

High on the summits grow tall pines ; and when 

The soft wind through their branches sighs, 

A plaintive melody now swells, now dies 



98 AMHERST MEMORIES. 

Away upon the air. The shadows fall 

And dance fantastic measure over all 

The glen, when sunbeams shed their radiance bright. 

And when the evening comes and closing night 

Has hushed all nature in a "quiet sleep, 

The silver moonbeams in caresses meet 

The sparkling, shining waters of the stream. 

No longer does its noisy babbling seem 

Like laughter, but a lullaby. The air 

Is still ; and rest and peace are everywhere. 

Frederick James Eugene Woodbridge. 



THE BELL BUOY. 



Brightly the embers of the dying day 

On beach and distant city cast their gleam. 

Tinting with changeful lights the glassy bay ; 
The peaceful closing of a summer's dream. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. 99 

Over the water's silent, broad expanse, 

We hear the tinkling of a sweet-toned bell, 

As now and then the buoy on yonder reef 
Receives the motion of the gentle swell. 

Again the tide rolls in with broadening sweep, 
Beneath the glowing stars and pale moon's light. 

In sterner tones, unceasing, loud and deep. 

The bell repeats its warning through the night. 

But when by storm the waves are tossed and lashed 
And hidden ledges beat the sea to foam. 

While high above the buoy the spray is dashed 
To fall and break again upon the stones. 

Then o'er the mighty gnashing of the waves 
Sounds a discordant clamor from the bell. 

Ringing, exultant, above sailors' graves 

Or tolling fiercely some ship's final knell. 

Constant interpreter of Nature's thought. 

Thy changeful music hath a note for each! 

By thy clear voice God's silences are wrought 
Into the symbols of our human speech. 

Shaituck Osgood Hariwell. 



100 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



"THE LAST TOKEN." 

Gabriel Max. 

What recks she of the multitudinous rage 
That roars around the Coliseum's walls? 
Freshly she blushes, though behind her crawls 

The long, lithe tiger issuing from his cage, 

And though yon loathlier couple, drunk with gore, 
Are tumbling in their maudlin amity 
Beside her on the spotty stones, — for see. 

There lies her lover's rose upon the floor. 

She sees him and she laughs ; her pure sweet eyes 
Gaze into his that ache with heavy tears 
And there they rest; ah! what a smile she wears 

As though she heard the harps of paradise — 
Art thou a man, O lover ? One swift leap, 
And snatch with her an everlasting sleep! 

E, /. //. 



AMHERST MEMORIES. lOT 



TO AMHERST COLLEGE. 



Dear Amherst! nestling 'mid surrounding hills, 
The fairest picture seen from Pelham's height 
Or Warner's crest, or Holyoke gaily dight, 

When murmuring music from the mountain rills 

Delights the ear, and far and wide, the eye. 
On lovely landscape bathed in liquid light, 
Feasts with enchanted gaze ; to me the sight 

Of thy famed halls is inspiration high. 

They tell of soldier brave whose name you wear, 

Of learning based on Him who is the Truth, 
Of saint and martyr who for Christ did bear 

The Cross' light to a sin-darkened earth ; 

While sweetly-pealing chimes waft through the air 

The story grand of all thy patriot youth. 

George Washington Cloak. 



I02 AMHERST MEMORIES. 



LET YOUR LIGHT SHINE. 



The sun's last ray had vanished 'neath the hills 

And dusky twilight veiled each mead and wood, 
Till, one by one, the stars shot forth their gleams 

To lighten earth of her dark, shadowy hood. 
And soon from out her fairy eastern home, 

The moon came sailing thro' her sea of blue 
With wondrous luster bright'ning all she touched, 

And touching all, with softened silver hue. 
But yet, tho' mistress of the sky she ruled, 

The stars hid not their heads nor seemed dismay'd, 
Tho' the great queen illumined western hill. 

They threw their fire into eastern glade. 
I gazed upon them, — each one in its sphere, 

Doing the work assigned it from on high, 
Not fearful that the light the great moon shed 

Would hide the beaming of its soft, bright eye. 
And as I gazed I thought if, in this world. 

Each in his own small world, we'd thus obey, 
Untroubled by a brilliance round us cast 

Which seemed to plunge our light in endless day, 



AMHERST MEMORIES. I03 

Our hearts which bid us do our little part 

Toward helping one whose gloom is deeper far, 

That radiance would not hide our kindly deeds 
But, by reflection, make them pure and clear. 

Would that by others we were not o'erawed. 

But, strong in self, might shed our little light, 

Believing that 'twould fall in some poor heart 
The greater glory had not yet made bright! 

James Herbert Low, 



FAREIVELL TO THE SENIOR CLASS, '86. 

Good-bye; 
For you your college days have run, and now must cope 
With heartless world, each man to win his fight,we hope, 
And w^in the laurels too, each those that fortune may 
For him declare; but now we must with sad hearts say 

Good-bye. 

No need 

To add that oft with pleasure you'll remembered be, 

That no one doubts ; but, grasping close your hands, 
here we 

Would wish you joy, fortune, a pretty maid to wait 

For each ; and, 'bove all else, honor we beg of Fate. 

God speed ! 

William Clyde Fitch. 



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