Beta Bards

BE T A

B A RD S

Francis W. Shepardson

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cP>eta(Sards In Sentiment and Song

,

From Beta Hearts 1 8 3 9 -19 3 6

Edited by F r a n c i s W . S h e p a r d s o n , P h .D., L L .D .

P u b lis h e d by B e t a T h e t a P i

19 3 6

COPYRIGHT 1 9 3 6 BY BETA THETA PI

TABLE OF CON TENTS Foreword ................................................................................

7

F ratern ity................................................................................

9

T o Beta Theta P i ...................................................................

12

Brothers in the B o n d ..............................................................

34

Beta Insignia............................................................................

3^

The Sires, Sons and Sisters......................................................

55

The Dear Old H a ll.................................................................

67

Poems of Chapter Sentiment...................................................

86

Wooglin and His D o g ..........................................................

129

Can W e F o rg e t? .....................................................................

160

A t the Banquet T a b le ............................................................

171

A Toast to the B etas.................................................................

173

The Silver G ra y s .....................................................................

179

Reunion R hym es.....................................................................

201

The Beta Convention............................................................

268

Beta Convention Poem s..........................................................

284

Miscellaneous Beta P oem s......................................................

360

A Beta A nthology...................................................................

381

Unidentified P oem s.................................................................

462

FOR THE L CHAPTER OF THE B. 6 . H. ASSOCIATION. O PEN IN G ODE.

BENEDICTION.

Hail noble band or’ youthful men, W ho form the m ystic tie, The Secret Order numb’ring ten, O f Beta, Theta, Pi I

Let “ Nature’s sweet restorer sleep,” Soon wrap us in her strong embrace, And guardian Angels, vigils keep— And wilt Thou shield us, God o f Grace?

On common ground to-night we meet, Let jo y light every eye; W ith song o f cheer, let each one greet His Beta, Theta, PL

INITIATORY O D E TO T H E CHAPTER Brothers, again we’ve met to take the pledge, Where hearts to kindred hearts reply; Let "Friendship and Fidelity,” inneage Our sacred Beta, Theta, PL

A t Friendship’s pure, and holy shrine L et all dissensions die, And mutual confidence entwine Our Beta, Theta, PL

Here oft we congregate with trusting hearts.

Affection strong, and Friendship nigh; Let each, and all, act well their different parts, Thus honor Beta, Theta, Pi.

In "Friendship Hall,” *mid social glee, L et all with trust rely, And join each heart in harmony W ith Beta, Theta, PL

Once more upon our Order’s lenth’ning chain, Another link, this night we tie; Let time, nor distance, rend in twain One heart from Beta, Theta, PL

Let Virtue, Truth, and M erit stand W ith us escutcheoned high Upon the shield which guards our band, O f Beta, Theta, PL

And now, when each renews his sacred pledge, Let heart and hand with joy comply, Let Friendship shield from ill, our little band O f noble Beta, Theta, PL

L et invocations here find birth— Perchance they’ll reach the sky, And blessings soon m ay shower down On Beta, Theta, PL

While each, in order, gives his willing hand, Let never Friendship once deny The slightest tribute at the open shrine, O f hallow’d Beta, Theta, PL

L et order sit enthroned to-night, As order reigns on high, And each renew his sacred plight T o Beta, Theta, PL

And last o f all, let sweetest concord reign Round Friendship’s altar, pure and high, “ With all who wear the badge, or bear the name,” Which ’tokens Beta, Theta, PL

CLOSING ODE.

TO THE INITIATED.

Come, let each Beta join his voice, And bid our Lodge good bye; While, from its courts, act out through choice Our Beta, Theta, PL

Stranger, here oft we’ve met, a little band, To cultivate each friendly tie; T o you, we now extend the cordial hand, Which shields our Beta, Theta, PL

When e’er we mingle witj> the world, L et actions show our die; Like pennant to the breeze unfurled, O f Beta, Theta, PL

We greet thee, as a Brother, In Its pale, In noble actions let us vie, W ith words o f kindness let us ever hall Our worthy Beta, Theta, PL

W e would n o tleave our "Friendship Hall,” And speak so soon good-bye; But time and couch to each doth call, "Vale, Beta, Theta, Pi.”

T o Friendship’s noble call, when brother speaks, Return a kind and prompt reply, Yes, give the pass, or watchword which he seeks, And with it, Beta, Theta, PL

Hail all o f high and low degree, Who form the mystic tie; Farewell to each, farewell to thee, M y Beta, Theta, Pi.

And now accept this humble tribute, due, From brothers o f the mystic tie; We trust you— O! prove ever true, T o us— to Beta, Tneta, Pi.

illi!

*

The above is a reproduction of the general style of the first collection of Beta Songs, used as early as 1847 by the Wabash Chapter.

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e n t i m e n t has played a notable part in the life of Beta

^

Theta Pi during the nearly a hundred years since the “ Boys of *39” founded the fraternity “ ’neath the elms of old Miami.”

T o build up an association, based upon friendship which should be eternal and upon vows which never should be broken was the vision of “ Pater” Knox. As he interpreted his dream to his seven selected associates, “ of ever honored memory” ; told them of the things he had read in a strange book filled with obligations taken at the altar by knights of old; and pictured the joys of a friendship which could not be bought with gold, he stirred his youthful com­ rades to the depths of their souls. “ Beta Theta Pi is the most wonderful thing ever thought of by man,” was the enthusiastic utterance of one of the immortal eight. “ W e did not realize then,” wrote another, many years later, “ that, like Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, we were to be the progenitors of a mighty race.” “ His friends shall be my friends; his enemies, my enemies,” were words copied from the strange book, to find place among the first obligations of Beta Theta Pi. In his address at the end of the first year of association Founder Knox, with many an apt quotation from poetry, magnified the value of human friendship, as Founder Linton had done, a year earlier, at the first formal meeting on that August night in 1839.

So it has been through nearly ten decades. The three stars from Orion’s belt; the wreath of laurel from the ancient games; the “ sun in the western sky nearing the foam” ; “ night and the shad­ ows falling, casting their spell” ; the backward-running milestones; “ the long illustrious line” — a thousand sentimental fancies have found expression as Betas have met to sing “ in the dear old hall,” or have felt the tightening of the ties of brotherhood as they have found companionship and comradeship “ in the old porch chairs.”

1

Most of the poetry which resulted was written by undergradu­ ates or by Betas in graduate or professional schools. A few poems came from the thought of older men.

The desire to bring these expressions together in a single volume explains this book, “ Beta Bards.” It is an intimate book, meant for Betas and not for the critical “ Barbaros.” Some of the poems may not measure up to the severe standards of the schools. But they do indicate the reactions of their writers to the sentiment of Beta Theta Pi. An alphabetical list of the one hundred and seventy-five authors provides a brief introduction for each. The lives of many of them are woven into the fabric of our fraternity.

The fraternity is greatly indebted to Miss Marsena Cox, Deni­ son ’ 33, a Beta sister, for painstaking care in copying the poems from publications of Beta Theta Pi. A ll of the poems have previously been printed in the fraternity magazine or in other Beta publications. For the first time they have been assembled.

May they inspire other Beta bards in the years ahead as they go “ marching along in Beta Theta Pi” into the second century of a fraternity founded and fed on fine sentiment.

F r a n c is W . S h ep ard son

Granville, Ohio August 8, 1936

8

Fraternity ☆

☆

☆

T H E S A C R E D SH RIN E long

c

the w o rld ’s great highw ays, w here flows the hu­ man tide,

There are famous sacred places where the weary turn aside, Leaving the dust of travel and the cares of life behind, T o find there rest of body and quietude of mind.

Perhaps a grand old forest the word of peace may speak, Perchance a noble vista or a snow-clad mountain peak; Or, from a tiny chapel, a flickering light may shine T o mark for tired travelers the presence of a shrine.

So, too, in burdened moments, the spirit goes apart T o worship at a secret shrine that’s hidden in the heart, And, though life’s tides tumultuous around may seem to roll, There’s peace and restoration at the altar of the soul.

F r a n c i s W a y l a n d S h e p a r d s o n , Denison ’ 82

A SO N G O F B R O T H E R H O O D

W

e ’re

born of one great m other,

And we drink one common air, And brother joined with brother Sings away all carking care.

Chorus: For the stars once sang together a sweet fraternal song And the rivers, rushing seaward, their harmonies prolong; A thousand leaves are murmurous in the music of one tree, And Mother-nature lulls to sleep one great humanity.

W e toil and moil together, And we think on anxious years; 9

In storm and stress of weather Let us sing away our fears.— Chorus.

Brothers in what’s before us, Brothers in birth and death, One loving sky bends o’er us, Let us sing with joyous breath.

Chorus: For the stars once sang together a sweet fraternal song, And the rivers, rushing seaward, their harmonies prolong; A thousand leaves are murmurous in the music of one tree, And Mother-nature lulls to sleep one great humanity.

H o r a c e S p e n c e r F is k e , Beloit ’ 82

F R A T E R N IT A S “ Let there be light,” and there was light, And light awoke the brotherhood of flowers; T he trees entwined their arms in sheltering bowers, And seas embraced in staunch and fearsome might.

Then Earth, alive, sang out into the night T o other stars, and all the tranquil powers Serene responded through the measured hours W ith love: no discord marred their winged flight. “ Love one another,” thus the Master said, And man went forth, face shining, to obey— But doubt and fear and anger made him dread His friend a foe. Now dawns a brighter day As hand clasps hand in loyal brotherhood, And God, He sees the light— that it is good.

M . L e R oy A r n o l d , Minnesota ’04

. od

said ,

F R A T E R N IT Y

o

r

s f a c e in water answereth to face, 1 So heart to heart of man. Thus sang of old T he Hebrew bard, and in the couplet told T he ancient source whence brotherhood to trace.

Does thy heart cleave to mine in such embrace That I to thee my hid dreams may unfold?

10

Thou art my brother, and our love’s firm hold Not Fortune’s hand shall loose, nor Tim e, nor Space!

Life will be sweet if only thou art by, T o sing with me Life’s song, Love’s ecstasy T o share, Death’s Lethe-draught to try.

O , be thou true! So shall there dwell in me Such faith in thee that my glad heart will cry, M y brother, would that I might die for thee!

W i l l i a m L u c i u s G r a v e s , Ohio State ’ 93

T o Beta Theta Pi ☆

☆

☆

B E T A T H E T A PI A SONNET eh old

the potency w ithin a name!

A Caesar, though two thousand years away, His scepter o’er ambitious men may sway; The incense-breathing of the vestal flame From every hearthstone wafts the voice of fame— Some passing hero turns our thoughts astray From our Creator, while we homage pay Our kindred dead; the whisper of a name W ill flood the purest cheek of maiden shy W ith wild confusion, if, perchance, coy Love Bedew, with sweetest poison drops, her heart: Proud is the soul, O Beta Theta Pi, That revels in thy mystic spell, above The charm of magic, kinship, love, or art.

W i l l i s B o u g h t o n , Michigan ’ 8 1

F A IR , F A IR B E T A

9'

ROM scenes of life’s conflicts and triumphs we turn

Again on the altar of Beta to burn The incense of love, and our pledges renew, T o honor old Wooglin, whatever we do.

Thou art fairer, dear Beta, than earth knows beside, For thee, and thee only, life’s tourney we ride; T he trophies we’ve won at thy feet we now lay, And our triumph complete by thy favor to-day.

Fair, fair, O ! so fair!

Thou art fairer, dear Beta, than earth knows beside.

D a v id H a s tin g s M o o r e , Ohio ’ 60

12

B E T A F R IE N D SH IP of friendship ours shall be, b rig h t stars th a t lead us e v e r;

h e jo y s

The heavenly lights that on our way shed radiance forever; Whose light grows dim, no, never; for heart to heart still answereth, And friendship leads us ever— whose light shall wane, no, never; Whose brightness still our heaven illumes forever and for­ ever.

Upon the altar of our hearts the sacred fire is glowing; For, still from love’s exhaustless urn fresh oil is ever flowing T o keep the flame aye growing; to make us feel for others’ pain The sacred fire is glowing, the sacred fire is glowing.

For out of pain comes joy’s sweet gain like morning sun­ shine after rain.

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

W

M EM EN TO AM ARE

forget, while memory lives and hearts beat loyally, The joy we felt when first we knew our Beta Theta Pi? Though years may roll and cares may come, in living letters set Shall still remain this love we bear, the love we can’t forget. ho can

W e’ll watch our brothers outward sail on the broad sea of life; W e’ll be as proud when brothers rise and when they gain in strife As when in youth we pledged to each around the altar’s fire T o live for truth and friendship rare, and nobly to aspire.

The love we can’t forget, the love we can’t forget.

The fires shall burn, the lights shall shine of love we can’t forget.

A B e t a B a r d of 1867 13

B E T A ’S B O N D S is ne’er so joyous as when it shares its glee, As when kindred hearts are near it and all its joys are free; And no hearts are more free, though none have firmer tie, Than the true hearts ’round the altar of Beta Theta Pi. h e heart

When pleasures flow around us, I ask no friend more dear; When my soul is pressed with sadness, I know no friend more near; No bosom friend more near, no truer smile or sigh, Than the true hearts ’round the altar of Beta Theta Pi. J a m es B u c k l e y B l a c k , DePaunv ’ 62

SO N G O F T H E G R E E K S a song, unknown to any Save those within our crew: The “ Greeks” know not the many, But the trusted and the true. e r e ’s

i

’T is a song we’ll sing with gladness, In concert, boys, unite: Oh, banish thoughts of sadness, And let’s be gay to-night.

Let friendship’s bond invite us, W ith its glow of potent charm; Let kind regard unite us In devotion, pure and warm.

A B e t a B a r d of 1870 H E A R T AN D HAND on self relies, Dares others’ help despise, Makes feeble fight.

Firm like a tower we stand, United heart and hand, Strong as our social band Compacted might.

E

w ho

14

Praise we our Order then, Thank we the honored men W ho gave it us.

Stars of our order’s sign, Send through the world your line, Brighter and brighter shine More glorious.

Greeks! raise your banner high, Let Beta Theta Pi Beam from its folds.

Aw ay with every doubt, Up with your voices, shout T ill the glad noise ring out And reach the poles.

C h a r l e s A u g u s t u s Y o u n g , Western Reserve ’ 53

IN B E T A T H E T A PI I

i f e is at best a struggle which always comes too soon; .H ard labor quickly changes our morning into noon; But in the deepest midnight we’ll think of the days gone by, Great days we spent together in Beta Theta Pi.

If fortune prove unfriendly, take knocking as brave chaps should, Only dead men and cowards get out of the ring for good; No man is ever a failure with youth that will never die; W e started life together in Beta Theta Pi. Beyond mere pow’r and money are treasures of the mind; Things that we each have lived thro’ moths and rust can­ not find.

Boys, clasp your hands together, lift them again on high!

Swear to be true to your brothers in Beta Theta Pi. E u p h e m ia G . H o l d e n , w ritten for Lambda, 1902

15

BETA OUR BRIDE

&

forever take we tonight; Nothing shall sever faith which we plight— Smiles of the guileful, hate of the base, Sneers of the scornful, offers of place.

u r b r id e

Proud of thy beauty, Beta our bride, Find we our duty close by thy side.

Light of thy diamond, eastward or west, Shows in our bosoms, Beta loved best.

Wooglin, thou our nuptials seal; Beta’s ours for woe or weal!

Bells proclaim with merry peal, Beta our bride!

D a v id H a s tin g s M o o r e , Ohio ’ 60

OUR BROTH ERH OOD

o

WHO CAN know

The silent, mystic power That, like the sweetest perfume of a flower, Breathes in our midst, makes hearts to overflow?

Ah! Betas know!

O who can tell W hat high, inspiring hopes Fill Grecian hearts, while “ barb-land” blindly gropes In darkness drear, or sinks ’neath ocean’s swell?

Ah! we can tell!

Is it because A world-deluding fame Bequeathes to each a great and honored name, If he but kneel obsequious to her laws?

Is that the cause?

O r, is it then, That talent, genius rare, Inborn in each, makes courteous, debonair, The Beta true, amidst his fellow-men?

Is that it, then?

M y brothers, nay: The secret deeper lies, Y et open as the light from summer skies: Sweet love, and faith, and truth illume our w ay: These are our stay!

Courageous, brave Y et gentle, loving, true, T o genius linking nobler virtues, too!

Our jewel and wreath, our stars, great Wooglin gave, And these “ we wave” !

H erbert T

aylor

St e p h e n s , Ohio State ’88

IN T H E O L D P O R C H C H A IR S shades of evening gather down around you, String your old guitar and strum a tune or tw o: There’s your Alma Mater— “ finest of the fine! ” There’s fair Beta— Beta, yours and mine. hen th e

When the pipes are glowing in the old porch chairs, Plink your mandolin and plunk your chapter airs: There’s the “ absent member” — she for whom you pine; There’s fair Beta— Beta, yours and mine.

H o r a c e L o z ie r , Chicago ’94

T H E B E T A G R IP / i f ] h a t e v e r lot in life is yours— Whatever luck is mine— W e now are friends and Betas true, And shall be for all time.

The Beta grip will never slip, Nor Beta love grow cold; There’ll always be for you and me The Beta grip of old.

17

Then all for each and each for all Advance and ne’er retreat!

Together win life’s prizes fair T o lay at Wooglin’s feet.

E r n e s t H. E v e r s z , N orthwestern ’95

T H E B E T A M A R S E IL L A IS E )ns of Beta, raise your voices,

j om one and all to swell the song!

While ev’ry loyal heart rejoices The sounding chorus to prolong, The sounding chorus to prolong, In grateful praise your voices blending T o her whose radiant badge we bear, And in whose mystic rites we share, Worthy our grateful praise unending.

T o Beta Theta Pi, a chorus ringing high, A song, a song, full loud and long T o Beta Theta Pi. Extol in song fair Beta’s glory, Her noble aims, her purpose high.

Let brothers young, and brothers hoary, Give praise to Beta Theta Pi, Give praise to Beta Theta Pi! Her tender love and care untiring, The peerless honor of her name ; The splendor of her spotless fame, In ev’ry heart her song inspiring.

F r a n k H . S c o t t , N orthwestern ’ 76

M ANUS L A E T A iterum venimus, Quo persaepe mentes revolant, In jucundas nobis aulas, quibus Nostri animi virtutem excitant;

anus la eta ,

18

Quare, amici veri et fideles, Hilaritatem nostram nil turbet; Toti tollamus clare nostras voces Tonis sonoris, quum nobis nunc licet.

Fratres cari, gaudio canamus, Voces omnes plene consonent; Mentes cordaque nostra conjungamus, Amor et caritas in nobis habitent.

Multis datur non jus pretiosum, Quod fortunate nobis contigit, Arae ignem coeundi circum.

Qui lucem gratam refulgens projicit j Ergo felices vere nos putemus E t gloriemur cum justitia, Quod clari Graeci nos inscripti sumus, Per totam vitam in re proposita.

Dies scholae sunt percari nobis Jucunditate pleni Candida, Sed fugit tempus prorsum citis alis, Mox numeraverit inter praeterita; Quum in mundum denique cedemus, Nos nihil, frateres, vitiet pravi, Sed probitate vitam conservemus, Et decus semper Beta Theta Pi! W i l l i a m H. W a i t , Northwestern â&#x20AC;&#x2122; 79

SONS O F T H E S T A R S '

sons

of the s ta rs : I call you.

Those radiant starsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; the three, Which shine in the light O â&#x20AC;&#x2122;er the diamond bright, On the badge loved by you and me.

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O sons of the stars: I call you.

Those symbolic stars— the three, Which tell of the might O f Truth and the Right, O f our Love and Fidelity.

O sons of the stars: I call you.

Those guiding stars— the three, Golden and gleaming from Heaven’s height, Pointing the way in the darkest night T o the paths of Destiny.

O sons of the stars: I call you.

Those beckoning stars— the three Keeping ideals ever in sight, Recalling vows which anew we plight, Stars of Fraternity.

O sons of the stars: I call you.

Those merited stars— the three, Guerdons of victory in the fight, Awards from the throne that is great and white, Shining eternally.

F r a n c i s W a y l a n d S h e p a r d s o n , Denison ’ 82

IN PH I K A I PH I . t r o n g youths with eyes of glowing fire

Stand round an altar noble, pure— Hand clasped in hand they take the vow That will be lasting, strong and sure.

And as they quaff the pledge they cry— “ W e’ll ever love in Phi kai Phi! ” Fierce burns the edge of battle’s line.

Strong hearts are stirred, the weak fall, dead.

But he who knows the diamond’s gleam Sticks to his post, bright stars o’er head.

Softly his heart renews the cry— “ Thro all the earth— Hail, Phi kai P hi!”

20

Across long lines of rising hills The Greeks are gathering from the fray, In valleys where the sun shines late They pitch their tents at close of day.

While all the twilight swells their cry— “ W e live, we die— in Phi kai Phi! ” R a l p h W e l l e s K e e l e r , Wesleyan ’ 04

B E T A SE R V IC E

Aw

flUUTV VU1 l l v a i t )

And Beta songs we have sung so long From our souls will ne’er depart.

The Beta grip, and the loving sip From the cup we pass around W ill banish the strife from our busy life When we meet on hallowed ground.

But Brothers all these things are small Compared with our noblest gift, The gift to know of the blessings that flow From giving our neighbor a lift.

W e serve Beta brothers as well as all others W ho need us, though not of our clan; For what is the good of our brotherhood, If we slight our fellow man.

The right to love is a gift from above, From our God who dwells on high; And the helping hand is his chief command T o Beta Theta Pi. R o b e r t D . L o n g y e a r , Williams *14 21

M Y B E TA DAYS Y B e t a days can I forget?

T o this I answer, never.

Her ties once formed shall never break; For they endure forever.

They bear me back to days of youth, Its glamour, and its beauty, When I, before the “ Sage of truth,” Sought wisdom for life’s duty.

When friendship wove her garlands bright And poured them on our altar, Sweet incense, that will ever rise, O f love, that ne’er can falter.

Though I ’ve become a silver gray, M y heart keeps time and measure W ith boys of Beta Theta Pi T o find my highest pleasure.

So down the path of life we’ll go, Close knit in ties fraternal, And proudly wear the badge, my lads, That glows with light eternal.

S a m u e l N. W i l s o n , Hanover ’ 72

TH E BETA VOYAGE

W

on a wave alight with Beta’s diamond Under a heaven fair with Beta’s stars; Our skiff is balanced with the heart’s devotion, Our sails are squarely set by Beta tars— For, W e ’re sailing away, through the night to the day, And ever we will sail, Be it calm, be there gale, For our sails are filled with love, Fair Beta’s breezes.

e ’r e o u t

22

There’s never a fear for storm or angry billow, W e trust in the Eye that watches every man, While ever our faith doth draw our shallop nearer, T o peace in the sheltered harbor of our clan— For, W e’re sailing away, through the night to the day, And ever we will sail, Be it calm, be there gale, For our sails are filled with love, Fair Beta’s breezes.

R a l p h W e l l e s K e e l e r , Wesleyan ’ 04

T H E PR A ISE O F B E T A thyself, and grand in thy aim Glory shall ever encircle thy name; Wreathing a garland of fairest design, Decked with the gems of mind. u r e in

Far and wide the praise of Beta sing, Out on the air the happy chorus ring!

Joyful in heart may each brother be Under the mystic three.

High on the scroll of honor and fame Beta hath sons the laurels to claim; If we pursue their noble career W e shall have nothing to fear.

Dear to us all are the smiles of the fair W ho in the triumphs of Beta can share; Ever may they, as our Diamond bright, Dazzle with beauty’s light.

S a m u e l N. W i l s o n , Hanover ’ 72

23

T O F R IE N D S H IP ’S T I E

T° o

1 .

f r i e n d s h i p ’s tie

le t all be tru e ,

p Pledged in dear Beta’s sacred shrine; Keep brotherhood e’er full in view And purest pleasures shall be thine.

T o Beta Theta, sweetest name Known here amid our college days, For thine honor and immortal fame, Are all our prayers while thus our song we raise.

II W ith thee we spend our sweetest hours Beneath old Wooglin’s guardian eye, For thee we lend our utmost powers, And toil to make thy station high.

Ill T h y love we feel, thy tender care, T h y precepts e’er we shall regard, For thee arise our song and prayer, Through thee our hopes for rich reward.

A B e t a B a rd of 1878 B E T A T H E T A PI band of brothers, Ever eager to employ Talents trained to toil for others.

Aiding all— an altruist’s joy.

Look out. est b e l o v e d

Think things thru, to thyself be true.

Help head, heart and hand to heed Each earnest effort, and endue Thyself with traits that thou dost need.— Aspire, achieve, aid, and accrue.

Look in.

24

Perfect trust promotes persistent peace.

If implicit, ideals increase.

Look up.

W i l l i a m B . P a r m e l e e , Western Reserve ’ 83

A N A C R O S T IC ^ A ^ e lo v e d Mother, may thy name J L J Engraven on my inmost soul, Triumphant as I strive for fame A ll glorious grow, when gained the goal.

Teach me the lesson, by the way How gained, I may with profit use: Excelling, how with love I may T o brothers light and help diffuse: And worthy bear thy name.

Prevent all wrong, all thoughts of wrong, In virtue keep me true and strong.

A B e ta B ard B E T A DAYS For fellowship and cheer, No other music rings so long In a Beta’s heart and ear.

For the words are brave, and the words are true And the air won’t drag along; Go find a Beta boy or two, T o sing a Beta song.

The stormy opera passes by, The master’s hand is gone, The mighty strains grow dim and die, W e lose them, one by one.

But change may come, and years take wing, T ill we all are silver grays, And still the Beta boys will sing The songs of Beta days.

M o u n c e E a r l B y r d , Bethany ’ o

Ul

0

s in g m e a bit of a Beta song,

25

S IN G IN G F O R E V E R I

e t t h e z ep h y r sigh or the tem pest blow ,

Let the tossing waves roll high or low, Let the world go fast or the world go slow; Good Betas sing forever: In the hopeful ray of the morning light, In the twilight gloom of the gathering night, When the stars are hid or the heavens are bright, Good Betas sing forever.

Then sing we the song of the young and the strong, O f the friends of the right and the foes of the wrong; For our hopes are bright and our hearts are light, And the songs of joy are our songs to-night.

W e are bold and free as the birds that fly In the azure steeps of the boundless sky, And we sing like them as the days go by; Good Betas sing forever: W e heed not the flight of the rolling years, And the yearly round of the circling spheres, For our joys are full and we know no fears; Good Betas sing forever.

For our hopes are bright and the world is wide, And we launch our skiff on the outward tide, And we sing as we sail, whatever betide; Good Betas sing forever: W e sing as we sail from our sheltered lea T o the summer isles or the wintry sea, Wherever our course or our port may be; Good Betas sing forever.

Hereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a song for the joys of the days gone by, And a song for the joys that before us lie, And a song for both, with never a sigh; Good Betas sing forever: Let the zephyr sigh or the tempest blow, Let the tossing waves roll high or low, Let the world go fast or the world go slow; Good Betas sing forever.

Sa m W 26

alter

Foss, Brown }$ 2

IN B E T A ’S N A M E M OME, let us now in Beta’s name, I . Our hearts and voices raise, For many joys shall cheer our hearts Throughout our college days.

Come sing the praises of our band, Whose friendships never die, And let our voices all unite For Beta Theta Pi. The stars will shed their blessing down, T he spheres will tribute bring, And all the planets in their march Our glorious praises sing.

Each loyal Greek shall catch the strain, And swell the chorus high, ’T ill all the list’ning earth shall sing O f Beta Theta Pi. And every beam of golden light That slants the ambient air, Shall herald Beta’s honored name In triumph everywhere.

And every tongue throughout the world Our song of love shall ply, ’T ill nature rings with choruses T o Beta Theta Pi. T he earth shall chant in silver strains The grandeur of our name, And whispering winds shall breathe afar Our universal fame, ’T ill every hymn of sea or air, O f earth or azure sky, Shall be the song true brothers sing In Beta Theta Pi. A B e t a B a r d , calling himself “ A Pulpit Greek”

27

O L D B E T A ’S PR AISE our young when the songs are sung That we sing in old Beta’s praise; For the storied past can forever last, When as one our voices raise.

Our pulse beats strong, as we sing each song, That we sang in our college days: The cares of the day can but pass away, When we sing in old Beta’s praise! ur hearts

The years may go, but our hearts still know That such friendship can never die; For the love we bear is the love we share In old Beta Theta Pi. And the Beta cheer is forever clear, As we wind through life’s tangled maze.

So we raise our song as we pass along, And we sing in old Beta’s praise!

K enneth W

h it n e y

R o gers , Syracuse

D E A R O L D B E T A BAND band

of b ro th ers trie d a n d tru e ,

W e pledge to-night our hearts anew T o brother-love and charity, T o helpfulness where’er we be.

Dear Beta band, from east to west, Through all the land thy sons are blest!

Firm stand and true Our dear old Beta band!

Firm stand and true Our dear old Beta band!

A band of brothers strong we stand, No truer hearts in all the land, Our honor more than place or gold, Our honor over all we hold.

Dear Beta band, from sea to sea T h y name shall ever honored be!

Firm stand and true Our gen’rous Beta band!

Firm stand and true Our gen’rous Beta band!

28

While speeds the warm blood through our veins These songs shall ring o’er freedom’s plains, Lone live dear Beta Theta Pi! Long live dear Beta Theta Pi! Through all Columbia’s leagues of length Our hearts and hands shall be thy strength!

Firm stand and true Our glorious Beta band!

Firm stand and true Our glorious Beta band!

C h a r l e s H. P r e s t o n , Iowa ’69

B E T A M E M O R IE S in g A song of happy youth when hopes run high;

Sing of Friendship, Honor, Truth, that do not die.

What a joy to greet a Comrade so nigh, Singing the songs of Beta Theta Pi. While the years some cares may reap for those who sung, Beta memories ever keep their true hearts young.

W hat a joy to greet a Comrade so nigh Singing the songs of Beta Theta Pi. A B e t a B a r d of 1909. Washington (St. Louis) CH EER, BETAS, CH EER t h e e r ! Betas, cheer!

I' j Our fraternity.

Cheer! Betas, cheer!

Guide her destiny.

Three sparkling stars, Brightly may they shine!

And may no false step mar Our mystic shrine.

Pledge anew your strength T o Beta Theta Pi! Keep in view our flag, And let it wave on high!

R u s s e l l B u r k h a r d , Columbia ’ 13

29

P H IL A B E T A

0

h , ^t is

sw eet in life ’s busy career,

T o revert to those bright days of yore, When we first learned to hold Beta dear, And have since learned to love her the more.

Oh, ’tis sweet to revert T o our first gath’rings ’round Wooglin’s shrine!

Sweeter still to assert Beta love is not far from divine!

It was there we found friendship so true; It was there we found brotherly care; There we found hope and courage anew; There we found joys and sorrows to share.

That true friendship grows stronger each day, And that brotherly care never wanes; Hope and courage permit no dismay; Joy enlivens and sorrow restrains.

Brothers, in this grand love, then, rejoice!

It increases and never grows cold; T o its praises let each lend a voice, And its merits not fail to uphold.

A d a m J a m e s H a w k , Ohio ’ 79

H E A R T AN D HAND I

< ffT and to

hand, boys, and heart to heart, boys, Stand we members of our Beta Theta Pi. May nothing sever T he ties that bind us, May Wooglin ever True Betas find us.

Hand to hand, boys, and heart to heart, boys, T o aid all brother Betas let us try.

30

II Hand to hand, boys, and heart to heart, boys, Stand we members of our Beta Theta Pi. Let us endeavor T o labor truly, Let us forever Attend to duty.

Hand to hand, boys, and heart to heart, boys, T o encourage brother Betas let us try.

Ill Hand to hand, boys, and heart to heart, boys, Stand we members of our Beta Theta Pi. Let our sole aim be The useful and the good, Then may our claim be The noblest manhood.

Hand to hand, boys, and heart to heart, boys, T o be true to brother Betas let us try.

A B e t a B a r d of 1 879 TH E B E T A CHORUS i o m e brothers, swell the Beta chorus, | y Lift your voices loud in song, Singing praise to good old Wooglin, Wake the echoes loud and long!

And then we’ll send the echoes to the heavens, Where Beta stars are in the sky— Then sing Phi Kai Phi for Beta Theta Pi, That the diamond’s ray may light our way forever!

K e n n e t h W h i t n e y R o g e r s , Syracuse ’ 17

N E ’E R M A Y N A M E O F B E T A F A D E I \

in g w e

now our order’s praise,

J Praise of hearts ne’er dying, Sing of Love, the child of Faith, Faith and Friendship buying.

31

Ne’er may name of Beta fade, Long as hearts shall open; Ne’er may vows our lips have made Be by any broken.

II Love has brought our order forth— Love of souls devoted; May that love which gave it birth Ne’er from us be parted.

III Others’ smiles to us are dear, Sad are frowns of others; Dearer yet do smiles appear, Sadder, frowns of brothers.

IV May our order ever prove Fount of blessing springing, E ’en till to each form of love Tim e an end is bringing.

A B e t a B a r d of 1 868 T O A ST T O BETA the wide, wide sky There’s one fraternity, Beta Theta Pi, W e give our hearts to thee; Thine ideals so true Our inspiration be; Beta, to you W e pledge fidelity.

eath

Oh, here’s to Beta, The finest and the best, As far as north winds blow to south O r east winds blow to west; Then here’s to Beta, In her we all are blest; Here’s a toast to Beta, boys!

For Beta is the best.

A r t h u r R . K i r k h a m , Oregon State ’ 23

32

THE LOVING CUP h , st a r t

the loving cup aro u n d ,

Nor pass a brother by; W e all drink from the same canteen In Beta Theta Pi. Oh, you and I can ne’er grow old While this fair cup is nigh; Here’s life and strength, here’s health and wealth, Here’s all in Phi kai Phi. Oh, start the loving cup around, It speaks of other days; W e see the milestones backward run When on this cup we gaze.

Our grip grows strong, bold comes our song When this fair cup we raise; So pass the loving cup around And drink in Beta’s praise.

H o r a c e L o z ie r , Chicago ’94

T H E C H A P T E R H O U SE ST E PS / e ’r e lounging on the old stone steps,

The evening shadows fall; Another long day’s work is done, The horse is in his stall.

This making hay the live-long day— It doesn’t pay at all; I ’ve hung my sweater on the lamp, M y pipe upon the wall.

W e’re lounging on the old stone steps, The long day’s work is done; This student-life is strenuous— A rest we’ve fairly won.

M y old guitar is all played out, M y banjo’s all unstrung; I ’d rather live a life of ease Than work the whole day long.

H o r a c e L o z ie r , Chicago ’94 33

Brothers in the Bond ☆

0

☆

☆

M A R C H IN G SO N G

clan cut loose again!

W e are, we are, we are all Betas!

A mighty band of loyal men— W e are, we are, we are all Betas! ld

W

o o g l in ^s

Far from the scenes where youth makes the man, When far from the scenes where friendship began, Memory guides us to youth’s fairest sky— T o dear old Beta Theta Pi. Old Wooglin’s throng ten thousand strong!

W e are, we are, we are all Betas!

T o Wooglin’s throng we all belong— W e are, we are, we are all Betas!

H o r a c e L o z i e r , Chicago ’ 94

T>

M A R C H IN G A L O N G

r e a r y t h e man who spurns his comrades,

Stumbling along his lonely way; Happier he who joins his brothers, Singing a Beta lay!

Marching along in Beta Theta Pi, Marching along, we’ll rend the air with song, Strong in the might of our bond fraternal, Friend of the right and the foe of the wrong; Following paths old Wooglin blazed for us, T ill we arrive at thy shrine on high, Singing again, “ Mother of Men, Hail to thee, Beta Theta Pi! ”

So in the night of care and sorrow, Murky with clouds that shroud our way; W e shall invoke the brighter morrow, Singing a Beta lay!

K e n n e t h W h i t n e y R o g e r s , Syracuse ’ 17

34

W O O G L IN T O T H E P L E D G E i o m e , smoke a friendly pipe with me, and drink my loyal ale, I , Come, tilt a chair and loaf awhile against my fireside rail.

You’ll feel a kind of something warm your marrow thro* and thro’ ; You’ll feel a whole lot better off when you’re a Beta, too!

Dip in my old tobacco pouch— it holds the best, by far!

Take all you want, take all I have— yes, take my last cigar!

And when a Beta offers you his hand, you may be sure His heart is in the bargain, too, and all he has is yours.

Hurrah! Hurrah! come, drink of a Beta brew!

It’s up to you to pledge anew and join our jolly crew !

H

orace

L o z ie r , Chicago ’ 94

T O T H E P L E D G L IN G stars you wear, You know not now How far their rays unsullied reach.

Your skiff is dry beyond the tide, Beyond the tide, far up the beach.

hree

Three stars you wear, You have not known The strength of manhood and the joy The stars light up. For you are still An undeveloped, growing boy.

Three stars you wear, And wear them well For you were chosen from the night T o walk in pathways we have trod Led by a diamond’s changeless light.

The stars you wear. The diamond soon W ill flash its beams from off thy breast.

Pledgling, we greet you heart to heart And Beta gives you of her best.

R alph W

elles

35

K e e l e r , Wesleyan *04

T O THE PLEDGE h e t h r e e bright stars are yours, my boy,

Y ou’re pledged to Beta’s band; “ Guard well your shield from life’s alloy! ” — ’T is Wooglin’s stern command: And if old Wooglin sees you live A life his praise can win, Y ou’ll have the best that life can give,— Y ou ’ll wear the Beta pin.

And when our Circle folds you in, Our mysteries you’ll know: Y ou ’ll feel the bond that makes us kin, That sets our hearts a-glow: So steer your path tow’rds Wooglin’s den, And with us sing his praise, Until he makes you blest of men For all your span of days.

K e n n e t h W h i t n e y R o g e r s , Syracuse ’ 17

T H E I N I T I A T E ’S G R E E T IN G ye sons of Beta, let’s be gay to-night, For a brother comes within the fold; See! each brother greets him and their hands unite, Pledging each their honor to uphold.

in g ,

Glory! glory! let each brother sing; G lory! glory! let the echoes ring; T o our noble order, Beta Theta Pi, Let us ever raise our voices high.

Sing, ye sons of Beta! let’s be gay to-night, For the brother now is filled with joy; Yes, a barb was ransomed by our diamond bright, And is born this eve a Beta boy.

Sing, ye sons of Beta! spread the feast to-night, Brothers, swell the glad, triumphant strain!

Shout the happy tidings! shout them with delight, For a Beta child is born again.

R o b e r t F l o y d K e r r , DePauw ’ 77

36

THE NEWLY CHOSEN knelt at the Beta altar, at the shrine of the Mystic Three, Ye have harked to the solemn legend, on solemn, bended knee; In the light of the constellation, in the might of the potent gem> Y e have knelt at the Beta altar and schooled your vows by them.

E have

Lost in the profitless darkness beyond the outer pale, Strayed amongst barren peoples, that bicker and smite and rail, Y e felt a strong, kind hand-clasp, and a light shone down from afar, And your hearts were filled with the glory and the truth of the Beta star.

Y e have knelt at the Beta altar, in the one true Attic fold; Take ye the truth that ye find there, and the truth that is yours to hold, Treasure it deep in your bosoms, ponder it night and day, A faith and an inspiration to guide you along your way.

In the strength of the silent emblem, high as the word of God, Tread ye the selfsame pathway that Pater Knox has trod; Ten thousand Greeks in the vanguard, who greet you eye to eye, Follow the starred rose banner of Beta Theta Pi. Y e have knelt at the Beta altar, at the shrine of the Mystic Three, Y e have harked to the solemn legend, on solemn, bended knee; In the light of the constellation, in the pure, sweet light of the stone, Y e have learned the truth of the Order, and have come at last to your own.

J o s h u a H a l l B a t e s , J r ., Cincinnati â&#x20AC;&#x2122; 01

37

Beta Insignia ☆

☆

☆

T H E T H R E E ST A R S e r e ’s t o

those w h o share o u r lot,

Friends till death shall part; Comrades true in grief and joy, Men of loyal heart.

Never shall life’s weal or woe Brothers’ love divide: In the battle and the storm Standing side by side.

Beta Theta Pi, my boys, Beta Theta Pi. Here’s to those who give us help In Beta Theta Pi. Here’s to joys of thought and mind Shared by spirits rare, Mounting higher day by day, Breathing purer air.

Richer gains that crown our toil, Less of lower earth; Life that grows more deep and full, Souls that learn their worth.

Beta Theta Pi, my boys, Beta Theta Pi. Here’s to larger, nobler aims In Beta Theta Pi. Here’s to faith that’s firm and strong, Proof against all fate; Confidence of man in man, Brave to hope and wait.

Let the seas between us roll, Rage each hostile gale!

W e have known each other once, Trust shall never fail.

38

Beta Theta Pi, mv boys, Beta Theta Pi. Here’s to faith that holds for ave In Beta Theta Pi! J a m e s T a f t H a t f i e l d , Xorthzcestem ’ 83

T H E B E T A ST A R S /

17J

HEN s t a r s are hiding, and the moon is nowhere in the sky;

And clouds are riding, and there’s no light to guide you by; If vou’re a Beta, all along the way, The Beta stars will make your darkness day; For light or darkness, shine the stars of Beta Theta Pi. K e n n e t h W h i t n e y R o g e r s , Syracuse ’ 17

T H E T R I P L E ST A R S f

e a n in g upon his spear of flame he spake—

The giant hunter who pursues the stag O f shadow through the shadowy vales of heaven: “ Son of the Earth, and dare ye clasp my belt About your Brotherhood: No puny aims Should this enfold, the starrv cirque of him Whose name was wed to strength. M v shafts flew straight T o inner mark; be yours to follow me.

Even as I drave from Chios and its fens The wide-vanned dragon and the deep-fanged lion, The devastating boar, the curling snake, And other monsters of the woodv deeps, And buried them within the swirling sea— So hunt all evil passions from your midst, A ll jealousies, all pettv jarring strifes, And sink them in the sea of brotherhood.

Follow your ideal as I chased the stag.

Never attaining, never wean ing.

The quest itself the guerdon. Be your words True to your deeds as to the string the shaft, Sped whistling to the centre of the targe.

L'nmoved as Akinetos bv the taunts 39

O f ignorance, go forward on your path Starward, yet never thrusting from your way A feebler brother. And the end— ’tis hid In dark-winged mists, yet end there is to all W ho grope, though blindly, on an upward road.

See where I stand upon the misty peaks That crown the sun-land, while the dark abysms Fade into chaos in the conquered past.

And ye may gain these heights if ye shall wear Worthily this my belt of triple stars.”

J o h n R u s e L a r u s , Hamfden-Sydney ’ 79

T H E B E T A GRACES g

E B e t a S t a r s , inspiring graces, beam

Upon the paths of Greeks and shed a glow O f radiance o’er their lives! Ideals show, As forms from sluggish clay arise and gleam W ith thought, and by his magic power, seem The master’s will to breathe, and even grow A living soul. Should Beta graces throw Their kindly smiles upon our deeds, they teem W ith acts of love; ambition, by the reins O f usefulness, is tempered, and the shock O f battle with a faithless world is healed By a firm faith in brother tried. Each gains A confidence in man that cynic’s mock Can not assail— a mite of heaven revealed.

W i l l i s B o u g h t o n , Michigan ’ 81

G EM M A N O STRA |

— EMMA n o stra can d eat,

Obscurata nunquam, Atque Sertus conserat, Caritatis unquam.

Stella quisque scintillet; Sunt omnes aequales— Nunc adsint si quilibet— Inter nos, sodales.

40

Inter fratres veritas, Honor, amicitia, Fides, virtus, jus et fas Omnes sint notitia.

Salve! Beta Theta Pi, T u regina pura; Cara tu meo cordi, Cara, cara, cura.

J o s e p h S. T

u n is o n ,

Denison ’ 73

B E T A ’S E M B L E M S ' n B e t a ’s n ig h t ev’ry h e a rt is lig h t,

Banished is care and sorrow; W e’ll hear no sigh till the morn’s grey eye Fresh toil for itself doth borrow.

Then lift the song! let it loud and long Rise to Beta ever glorious!

Stainless and bright is her shield of light; Her motto is: “ Aye victorious.”

Trusting we stand, heart to heart, hand to hand, The banner of truth waving o’er us; T o mutual need we give mutual heed, And our pledge is ever before us.

Deep reflection’s ray is our perfect day, It illumes the path of sorrow; The same from light will reveal new might When care upon care doth follow.

Firm is our trust and keep it we must, For time Beta’s bonds only strengthens; Let treason turn pale when this faith shall fail, And brother firm brother e’er threatens.

Then strong are we in our mystic three Whose emblems stand before us; For truth and right we shout tonight, Let each Beta join the chorus.

M a r t i n L u t h e r B r o o k s , J r ., Western Reserve ’64 41

T H E IN IT IA T E AND T H E BADGE “ With ity my sony or ufon it” E Spartan dame, when the battle field

_alled forth her son to do or die, Placed in his hands a shining shield And urged him thus to victory:— “ W ith this, a hero, son, return O r upon it, dead, be carried back.

May patriotism in thee burn, O f courage may’st thou have no lack!”

And when the conflict fierce was waged, And arrows thick about him fell, When heroes fought like fiends enraged W ith spirit breathed from jaws of hell The Spartan thought not of his life, Before his eyes there seemed to burn Upon his shield his mother’s words, “ W ith this, a hero, son, return, O r upon it, dead, be carried back.”

You, too, receive, to-night, a shield Not used in battle’s bloody strife. ’Gainst heroes bold no arms you’ll wield, Y et you must fight great foes in life.

Think not this badge mere outward show, But may it e’er your zeal inspire, T o do your best in all you do, And cheer you on for something higher!

May the badge of Beta Theta Pi Urge ever on to noble deeds!

And when at last you’re called on high, When hence your weary steps have gone, May you hear, my friend, the welcome words, “ Enter your rest, servant, well done! ” F r a n c is W . S h e p a r d s o n , Denison ’ 82

THE BADGE lack

like the eerie, solem n n ig h t,

Which knoweth many things, Y et through the years which come and go Keeps all its secrets hidden low ’Neath pinions black bedight,— Soft-folded wings.

In even line three stars shine out, Three stars of golden light; Three stars of hope and faith and love, Brighter than stars in heaven above; Three stars fair-shining out Through the dark night.

A jewel with a heart of flame, A symbol rich and rare; And mystic letters all of gold, Glowing with mysteries untold;— And, blazing out, a name— Ah, passing fair!

And over all and under all, And back of all the rest, True hearts and grip of stalwart hands, A welcome sure in many lands; Brothers and faithful all— And that is best.

R o b e r t F r a n c i s A l l e n , Boston ’ 05

OU R BADGE :e b a d g e which we as Betas wear,

Great men and true have worn; Then, brothers, let it be our care T o shield that badge from scorn.

It is the badge of innocence And friendship’s warmest flame, And if you ne’er do it offense It ne’er will bring you shame.

J a m e s A . R o h b a c h , Western Reserve ’84

43

%

here

T O HIS B A D G E is a little shield th a t is set w ith jew els rare ,

And bears in pride the mystic letters three, The scrollery is rich, the workmanship is fair, But the wearer holds the charm for me.

None wear this little shield but are worthy of true fame, W e read high purpose in each gleaming eye, For honor is true honor, and valor more than name, T o every loyal Beta Theta Pi. If I should write a billet doux and send it on its way, W hat better, dearer subject could there be?

For though the shield is beautiful, now once again I say, ’T is the wearer holds the charm for me.

A B e t a B a rd of 1890

TH E BADGE I W EAR I wear! The name I bear!

W ith you these treasures I may share; T he gleaming light from the three stars there; T he wreath of gold, the diamond rare; T he hidden things of that emblem fair; W e ’ll ne’er forget, mid life’s graver care, T he name we bear, the badge we wear. h e badge

Out of memory’s store, through an open door, They beckon us back to days of yore.

Tim e halts for an hour in his hurried flight, T he milestones we watch run backward tonight.

W e meet at “ a scene where brothers greet” W ith the grip of faith and friendship sweet.

Across the long years we hear voices call, They “ are singing again in the dear old hall.”

They are singing a song of a “ shield he bears,” “ Our splendid shield,” of a wreath he wears.

And we catch the glint from the diamond bright In the mellowing glow of the altar’s light: T he badge we wear! T he name we bear!

44

There’s never a pleasure of life compares W ith the joy of the boy “ in the old porch chairs,” Singing the lays of his college days— The long-loved songs in old Beta’s praise.

There’s “ Gemma Nostra candeat,” “ Three Hungry Greeks,” and songs like that, They carry us back to the mystic shrine, T o vows there plighted, “ your’s and mine,” T o the fluttering light of the candle’s flame, T o the badge we wear— the honored name; And when the loving cup starts round, The fabled fount of life is found.

A h ! The warm heart of youth in the spirit stays When thus backward we gaze through memory’s haze Though we toil in the moil of life’s hard ways; Though we watch the “ sun in the Western sky Nearing the foam,” as the days speed by.

The badge we wear! The name we bear!

This through the years be our constant prayer, When we lift our hands to the “ God on high,” And plead that He “ bless Beta Theta Pi,” For help to keep clean the name we bear, T o keep ever bright the badge we wear.

F r a n c i s W . S h e p a r d s o n , Denison ’ 82

T H E P IN K A N D B L U E o H i m , who, in the early morning, walks Abroad and sees the curtain of the night Parted by rosy fingers of the light, There comes a joy deep-thrilling. Breathlessly A t crest of some commanding knoll, he stands Beneath an oak wide-spreading and lists the Approach of dawn. The air is stirred with notes So sweet that silence steals their harmony, Almost before they reach the ear. The leaves In quiv’ring ecstacy betray their joy, And drop their tears, with dewy fragrance sweet, As virgin dawn appears suffused with pink, 45

And blushes coyly when the youthful morn, In vesture blue imprints the modest kiss Upon her brow. They wed and born is day.

Full panoplied, “ as from the brain of Jove Minerva sprang,” he mounts his azure throne And rules the world. All earth to him with love Looks up as he with love looks down, and though He hides his smiling face behind the veil of night, As youthful morn he comes again to lead T he rosy dawn to heights embathed in blue, And rules the world again with beaming love.

T o him, who, in the early morning, walks Abroad and sees the curtain of the night Parted by rosy fingers of the light, Must come a joy deep-thrilling. Sees he then W hat to a Beta’s heart the Good and True Doth image, simply pure— The Pink and Blue.

W a l t e r E. D e n n is o n , Ohio Wesleyan ’ 77

T H E P IN K A N D B L U E is the sky that bends above When the day is bright and clear, And pink are the clouds that blush at the sun When evening draweth near.

lue

Blue are the eyes of our dear girls— Those eyes we’re sad to miss; Pink are the cheeks that we love best— Those cheeks we love to kiss.

Blue is the smoke that curleth up And puts away care so far; Pink is the coal that glows on the end O f the incense-breathing cigar.

Blue are the days that burden my soul W ith trouble, and care, and pain; The pink of perfection that day will appear When such things never happen again.

46

Blue are the veins that faintly show On Beauty’s transparent brow; Pink are the dainty shell-like ears When they listen to love’s first vow.

Blue were the violets on the slope, Sweetest of all the flowers; Pink were the fingers that plucked them thence T o comfort my weary hours.

Now having shown to you quite clear, I think, That Nature loves the blue and loves the pink, If you will drive alluring sleep away And deign to listen to my halting lay, I ’ll tell you briefly, while I tell you true, W hy Betas love the colors— pink and blue.

Many, many years ago, In a cottage small and low Lived a maiden by a wood.

There all day the old trees stood And sported with the wanton breeze Which kissed in turn the knarled trees.

The sunbeam ’twixt their branches fell In soft caresses on each bell O f violets and anemones, That grew beneath the forest trees.

The song-bird built upon the boughs And caroled to his mate his vows.

The very brook that seaward sped Coquetted with its pebbly bed.

Thus with Nature’s hymn all ’round It is not strange that this maid found That, like the ship, her heart was planned, Incomplete unless ’twas manned.

Just across the forest wide Stood a castle, in its pride O f oaken beam and iron gate And rugged stone of ponderous weight.

The castle’s master was a knight Young in years, fair to the sight.

He, wandering thro’ the wood one day, Wearied with the rich display 47

O f power and pomp within his halls, Chanced to spy the cottage walls.

Impelled by Fate, as he drew nigh, Such radiant beauty met his eye That he, who was in battles brave, W as from that hour a woman’s slave.

T he maiden, artless of all art, By innocence had won his heart.

So, when at length the day was past And shadows were to eastward cast, And when the peaceful breathing eve Bid him all his state cares leave, He’d go and ’neath the forest shade Meet oft the simple little maid.

The greatest joy he ever knew W as when her hand he gently drew Through his arm, with tender care, And felt it nestling trusting there.

But, though he loved her as his life, He dared not make the maid his wife.

He knew his family’s cruel pride— How they would scorn his peasant bride.

And he, who’d dare Death’s cup to quaff, Shrank before the scornful laugh.

One evening thus they slowly walked Beneath the trees, and neither talked; The dusky silence seem to make A holiness ’twere sin to break, And then fond hearts do need no speech W ith which the other heart to reach; T he glance, the pressure of the hand T he thoughts of many words command.

But see! She halts in quick alarm, “ I saw a shadow ’neath the trees.”

Quoth he, “ It was the evening breeze That stirred the branch, or ’twas a bird.”

But, ere has left his lips the word, Without a cry she springs in front Just in time to bear the brunt O f the blow aimed at him.

From out the shadows deep and dim An arrow comes, with fiendish zest T o strike itself deep in her breast.

48

Whether the assassin’s hand The cowardly attack had planned— O r jealously had taken aim, Straight to its mark the arrow came.

There in the shadows, gathering dim, Lay she who only thought of him.

He cast himself down by her side, His awful cry rang far and wide, He plucked the arrow from her breast, His silken scarf he gently pressed O ’er the wound; and as he kneeled His tears her bleeding form concealed.

The scarf was pink, her dress was blue, Fit covering for a heart so true. *

*

*

*

I would that I might truly tell How pining always he did dwell, But truth compels me to relate He found in time a fitter mate.

But evermore in tilt or field He bore upon his glistening shield A ribbon pink on field of blue In memory of that heart so true.

His lineal children still display This very emblem to this day.

These colors now salute the eye In halls of Beta Theta Pi. C . F in l e y H e r s m a n , Westminster ’ 84

0

h,

O U R COLORS B e t a ! the Greek’s pride and glory,

Our queen, ever peerless and fair!

The theme of each song and each story, Blessed solace, ’mid life’s woe and care!

May thy name be a beacon to guide us, And save us from error and sin, And our object, whatever betide us, Be fame, pure as thine is, to win.

Hurrah for our brave pink and blue; Hurrah for our bonnie pink and blue; 49

Oh! Beta Theta Pi forever!

Three cheers for our colors— pink and blue.

May bright Theta be ever a token O f the nobler, the real aim of strife; W hile with spirits and ranks still unbroken, W e contend for the best things of life; As we gaze on her wildering beauty, As she sits in her bright, shining car; Let us always be mindful of duty, As taught by our diamond, wreath and star.

T o dear Pi, a most hearty salutation!

The motto of the noble and the just!

T he cherished and mystic foundation O f the true hopes on which we build our trust.

Shout aloud each and every Beta brother, In a joyful and universal cry; Hurrah for our ever dear old mother!

Three cheers for the Beta Theta Pi! A r t h u r L e w is H u g h e s , Denison *79

TH E COLORS t d ia m o n d and three stars and that delight

O f those who sense a flawless flower’s grace Have all known eulogy; have been bedight W ith glowing phrases, and now hold a place Upon Olympian heights in Beta’s realm.

Though none may say that this is not their due, I wonder often why those at the helm O f Betadom have stressed no broader view In their discourse upon the lambent lights That form the symbols of brave Wooglin’s band.

Are there no other emblematic rights?

Where may the fulgent Beta colors stand?

W hat of those melting tints in sunset’s hue That are enshrined as Beta’s pink and blue?

A . J. G u s t i n P r i e s t , Idaho ’ 18

50

T H E B E T A ROSE the beauties in earth’s garden bower, Nature bestows Its choicest meed upon that classic flower, The Beta Rose.

F

all

O r on a stalwart breast or bosom fair It doth repose, It is no empty symbol that ’tis there, The Beta Rose.

For underneath its spotless, stainless form, There ever glows A ready heart to shelter from all harm The Beta Rose.

From it, as from a lovely greenwood spring, Pure water flows, So doth it send its fragrance on the wing, The Beta Rose.

In garden, valley fair, or on the hill, Where’er it grows, The same associations hallow still The Beta Rose.

Since ’twas enshrined, it hath known only weal, It knows no woes.

Secure behind its triple-starred shield, The Beta Rose.

Though envy, malice, jealousy or spite Urge on its foes, Serene it looks down from its well-won height, The Beta Rose.

Its way was won through toil and strife; it now No favor owes.

Alone to Wooglin doth its hauteur bow, The Beta Rose.

Its pride hath no conceit; a crimson flush Modesty shows.

O r hap pale purity dispels the blush, The Beta Rose.

51

Sweet flower, when at the eventide of day T h y petals close, In love we lay each faded leaf away, Fair Beta Rose.

T h y fragrance lives; sweetening the after years, It doth dispose Our minds to memories; while through all appears The Beta Rose.

C h a r l e s C l a y T r a b u e , Vanderbilt ’ 92

A L A J A R D IN IfiR E R oses so fair

In the garden unfolding, What blossoms can share In your benison rare, Bringing joy to the air, And the traveler, beholding, O , Roses so fair, In the garden unfolding! “ A flower there grows,” Say the Roses, replying, “ T o honor our close, A flower there grows; ’T is a Pink,— yet a Rose, W ith both orders allying; A flower there grows, Say the Roses, replying.

A Rose,— yet a Pink? ’Tw ere a miracle, truly!

W hat poet would think T w o such treasures to link?

Nay, pause on the brink, Lest you state it unduly; A Rose, and a Pink? ’Tw ere a miracle truly!

52

But the Roses know best, In their own Beta garden; Here endeth our guest,— The Roses know best.

They do not mean a guest, But “ Sweet W illiam” their warden Yes, the Roses know best In their own Beta garden. l ’e n v o i

The smiling California skies Impart new graces to the rose,— The gold that with the daylight dies, The ruddy tints that sunrise shows, The purity of vanished snows, T o charm the wondering stranger’s sight, ’Mid blossoms various as the light, W hat floral charm may not he find ?

So say we of the Roses bright, In Beta brotherhood entwined.

A B e t a B a rd of 1901 with special thought of William L . Graves, Ohio State ’93

TH E BETA DRAGON J 'm d a y s of yore on a Grecian shore A dragon once ruled, they say, W ith a mailclad frame and a breath of flame, There he ruled in a dragon’s own way, T ill death was his lot on a fertile spot, Where they sealed up the dragon’s den; In the soil beneath they sowed his teeth, And the harvest was full-armed men.

Hurrah! hurrah! for the Beta dragon bold!

Hurrah! hurrah! for the dragon’s dauntless fold!

Here’s health and strength to ev’ry loyal son, T o win his race or gain his place Where’er his lot is thrown.

53

Oh, daring and shrewd are the dragon’s brood, Full-armed for the battle of life, Ever eager to fight for the weak or the right, They are masters in peace or in strife; Fearless and bold as their sire of old, Fast flows their blood and warm.

This is their trust— to be gentle and just, And this is their safe-guard from harm.

Oh, this is the tale of the dragon bold, And we are his sons today; Let this be our aim that we cherish his name And bow to the dragon’s sway; Loyal and true as the skies of blue, Brave as his own blood, red; W ith souls as bright as the snowy white O f the sands where his blood was shed.

F r a n c i s H i n c k l e y Sisson, Knox ’ 92

T H E SONS O F T H E D R A G O N £

d r a g o n is lord of the beasts of the wold

And the ruler of birds of the air; And Wooglin of old found him dauntless and bold, As the guard of his secret lair.

Our pride and our dream is to keep him supreme And we pledge him with hands raised high: “ W e’re the sons of the dragon, and forevermore W e are guarding Beta Theta Pi! ” The sons of the dragon are valiant and brave, Ever ready to enter the fray; Oh, what can assail or what can prevail ’Gainst the strength of the dragon’s sway!

And strong in our might we go forward to fight W ith the shout of our battle cry; “ W e’re the sons of the dragon, and forevermore W e are guarding Beta Theta Pi! ” K e n n e t h W h i t n e y R o g e r s , Syracuse ’ 17

54

T h e Sires and Sons and Sisters ☆

☆

☆

B E T A SIRES A N D B E T A SONS passing aw ay — those cherished sires W ho lighted our first fraternal fires; But memory peoples our mystic shrine W ith faces we knew in Auld Lang Syne.

A priceless heritage remains O f Beta blood and Beta brains; And Beta sons of Beta sires Are guarding forever our altar fires. :y

are

Wooglin watches with sleepless eye Each man of Beta Theta P i; And cheerily smiles on all who aim T o keep to the fore old Beta’s name.

And thus from cherished sire to son The links of our bond fraternal run, While Beta sons of Beta sires Are guarding forever our altar fires.

J o h n H o g a r t h L o z i e r , DePauw ’ 57

T O B E T A SONS o, B e t a sons, and seek the shrine

Your fathers sought in early youth!

And dedicate your powers divine T o serve the ris:ht to love the truth.

Float Beta’s banner in the blue!

Grave Beta’s motto on vour heart!

T o Beta’s principles be true And act in life a manly part.

55

Sons of brave sires, be loyal sons T o Beta as your fathers were!

W ith courage high the base to shun, And strength to shield all those who err.

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

B E T A M OTH ERS cares have printed deep and bolden On my mother’s brow the light of fading years, And the grey is creeping into hair once golden; Still she fosters no regret nor tears.

For her heart is happy with the sunshine O f a life with all its sacrifices done; She will sit and smile and tell you in the gloaming O f the man that is her Beta Son. ugh th e

So here’s a song to every Beta Mother W ho has given us of her great soul A ll the gifts possessed by not another, Though the tide of life and progress roll.

I send a kiss afar across the prairie T o bear to her a heart that’s folded in For the girl my father chose to marry, W ho wears upon her breast my Beta pin.

C h e s t e r A n d e r s F e e , Oregon ’ 16

M Y BETA M OTH ER close of a day in the twilight, Dreams a Beta boy of his home; And his thoughts fondly turn to that loved one, T he dearest of all he has known; The sound of her voice fills his mem’ry, The touch of her hand soft and warm; T ill a longing again surges o’er him, As he voices his love in a song:—

t the

56

Oh, mother, my Beta mother, You’re a Beta sweetheart too, none will deny; You were first to win my love in childhood’s golden days, And your love remains a guidon true; Though your hair now is touched with silver, Still to me an added luster does that lend; For each new year as it dawns Brings more starlight to your eyes; You’re a Beta mother true, And dear to me.

G e o r g e F r a n k l i n S t r i c k l i n g , North Dakota ’ 25

M Y BETA DAD AND I f J h e n m y father went to college— The time seems far away— He says they got more knowledge Than young folks get today.

The students were more serious; They gave more thought to looks; O f course they had their athletes, But they cared far more for books.

But he has a fellow-feeling When I look him in the eye And slip to him the same old grip O f Beta Theta Pi. I catch him humming softly; For his memories are sweet O f “ singing in the dear old hall” And the “ scene where brothers greet.”

M y Dad sees many changes, But there’s “ Gemma Nostra” yet, “ Old Wooglin’s leal and loving band” — “ The love we’ll ne’er forget;” W e both are mighty happy, Bound by a double tie, For Dad and I both wear the badge O f Beta Theta Pi! 57

So at ev’ry Beta gathering W e sing the same old songs, For I ’m a man of W ooglin’s Clan T o which my Dad belongs!

W e share the “ Dorg” together; W e pledge in Phi kai Phi! For Dad and I both wear the badge O f Beta Theta Pi! F r a n c i s W a y l a n d S h e p a r d s o n , Denison ’ 82

T H E B E T A P O S T S C R IP T &

our sons to college go, to college go, W e ’ll look them squarely in the eye, in the eye, And say: “ M y boy, the only Greek you’ll have to know Is Beta, Beta Theta Pi.” Oh! the Betas! yes, the Betas!

There is nothing else so great as T he fraternity your father joined in days of yore.

Adieu, adieu, my son, adieu, adieu, adieu!

For now it’s plainly up to you, up to you, T o learn your Greek so well that you, my boy, and I May know our Beta Theta Pi. h , w hen

H o r a c e L o z i e r , Chicago ’ 94

B E T A S IS T E R SO N G brothers, Beta mothers, Beta sweethearts too; There’s another to remember, There’s that Beta sister too.

Now girls may come and girls may go As you will always find, But never will there be a pal Like that Beta sister kind.

When hopes are blasted, sorrows win, And there’s nothing else to do, There will always, Always be that Beta sister true. eta

A

B e t a B a r d of 1929

M Y B E T A G IR L ig h t ,

•

^

(

3

a n d the fireside g lo w in g ,

Casting its spell over m e; Sitting there idly dreaming, Thinking of one dear to me; Seems that I see her there in the soft glow, The sweetest of all I know: Sweetheart of mine, my Beta girl, Fairest of all, my Beta girl; Eyes blue as skies of Beta blue, Cheeks like the rose of Beta hue, Tender and true, a pal to all; Worthy of Beta’s name; You are my light, my diamond so bright, M y sweetheart, my Beta girl!

And then when I start dreaming, Dreams bring back mem’ries to me; Mem’ries like moonbeams gleaming, Shadows of my love to see; She wears my diamond, my three stars of gold, And this tells the story old: R a l p h E d w a r d G a b e l e , Denison ’ 25

F A IR B E T A G IR L S Beta girls, fair Beta girls!

W ith laughing eyes and glossy curls; W ith cheeks where blooms the blushing rose, And brows that shame the drifting snows!

W ith smiles that made the world more bright They swept around the soul’s dark night, While at their word the heart awoke And holy love’s glad morning broke. a ir

Ah! happy hours with them were spent; T 00 great, indeed, my bliss to last!

More precious than old ocean’s pearls Were moments spent with Beta girls.

59

But youth is drifting like a cloud From wedding gown to cheerless shroud; And other Greeks will praise your curls When I am gone, fair Beta girls.

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

M Y B E T A G IR L E t u r n to the east for the dawn of hope

In the morning twilight hour, And the sun’s full ray at noon of day Is the symbol of might and power; But we turn our hearts at the close of day T o the miracle of the west, Where the sun’s last beams transport our dreams Beyond the horizon’s crest.

There is pink and blue in the sunset glow As I gaze at the western sky; That twilight glow tells of love, I know, And of days that before me lie; For the girl I love wears the pink and blue, She’s a Beta girl, you see, And that sunset glow is a love rainbow For my Beta girl and me!

K enneth W

h it n e y

R o gers , Syracuse ’ 17

T O T H E B E T A G IR L I c o u l d sing a perfect song, Whose melody would strike along The diapason full of sense And stir life’s deeps to thrill intense, A harp of mellowest tone I ’d string, And Friendship’s praise I ’d from it ring.

And of the friendships I have known, Stands, girt with triple-starred zone, As pure as Afric’s diamond gleam, As constant as an Alpine stream, Bewreathed with laurel ne’er to die— The bond of Beta Theta Pi. 60

And fair within that mystic ring— Like chaplets for which poets sing, Like jewels in a cirque of gold, Like rosy love that ne’er grows old, Like sun-glints on the summer dew— Are girls that wear the pink and blue.

And so, my lay— if it were mine Such perfect song-wreath to entwine— Should tinted be with pink and blue, Life’s own, the first, then heaven’s own hue, And on the brow of her should lie W ho loves dear Beta Theta Pi. L a f a y e t t e R u p e r t H a m b e r l i n , Richmond ’ 92

B E T A G IR L S a i r is the lily that floats on the fountain,

Pure is the snow on yon far distant mountain, Bright are the sunbeams, though checkered with shadow, E Precious the jewels from far El Dorado; Sweet is the honey the bees are distilling, Sweet is the song that the lark now is trilling; But brighter than sunbeams, unmarred by a shadow, More precious than gems from the rich El Dorado, Fairer than lilies and purer than pearls, W e yield thee our praises, O , dear Beta girls.

W i n f r e d E r n e s t G a r r i s o n , Yale ’ 94

W IT H T H E B E T A G IR L us blew the evening air, Soft, ’neath the full moon bright; Below us ran a river clear, Gleaming through mist wreaths white; Before us shone a city fair, Queenly, all crowned with light; Beside me sat a maiden rare, By whom each fairest seemed more fair, Herself the fairest quite. round

C h a r l e s M c G u f f e y H e p b u r n , Virginia ’ 80 61

BETA SW EETH EART ow w o u l d you like to be a Beta sweetheart?

How would you like to wear a Beta pin?

How would you like to gaze upon the diamond, Gem of gems that ne’er grows dim?

How would you like to share a Beta friendship, Friendship that will last through life?

How would you like to love a Beta always?

And how would you like to be a Beta wife?

F r e d e r i c R a y n s f o r d W a r n e r , Beloit ’ 12

A B E T A S W E E T H E A R T ’S A N S W E R o w ’d I like to be a Beta sweetheart ?

T o wear the colors dear, just pink and blue?

How’d I like to have a Beta pin, dear?

I ’d like it, if the pin belonged to you.

How’d I like to gaze upon the diamond Where prison’d shine the crescent rainbow’s hue ?

I ’d wear it as a pledge of faith undying, Supposing, dear, the jewel came from you.

You ask if I would share a Beta’s friendship, I ’ve heard that friends are rare and seldom true, And oft, alas! we’re careless with their favors; ’Twould hurt, dear heart, I know, if I lost you.

And would I like to be a Beta’s wife? W ell How could I tell, unless one came to woo?

(Such fun to be a Beta always) Yes, perhaps I might— suppose that one were you.

A K a n s a s B e t a G i r l of 1 9 1 4

62

A LEAP-YEAR LILT f

M B e t a girl, fair B eta girl, The sweetest years are all your years.

If you were I and I were you, You’d take the leap and quell my fears.

As they assail me, being I Am who I am and you are you; But anyway the quandary Is what to say— “ How fine the view ! ” Oh let’s begin all over, dear, And play that we are flowers two; The four-leaf clover I, and you The marigold of sunbeam hue.

Dost know the language you should speak?

In leap-year clover speechless is, While marigold composes all The four-leaf clover rhapsodies.

O Beta girl, dear Beta girl, M y heart your words with rapture thrill, In pledging you all I possess, M y answer is, “ Sweetheart, I will.”

W a l t e r E m e r s o n D e n n is o n , Ohio Wesleyan ’ 77

L O V E SO N G — M E E T IN G O N T H E S L Y I J

Beta meet a maiden W ith a laughing eye, If that Beta kiss that maiden Need he step so high?

If that Beta tell that maiden, When the moon is high, That he loves her like a brother, Need that maiden sigh?

jFA

63

Everybody has some hobby, One they say have I ; But yet his name I can’t proclaim, I cannot tell a lie.

II If a Beta love a lassie, Can you wonder why; Since a lassie cannot pass a Beta Theta by.

Every Beta loves some lass or Has one in his eye, For all true sons of Wooglin hope to Marry by and by.

III If a Beta e’er should meet a Lassie on the sly, Don’t think of that fable of the Spider and the fly; Since the eldest of the old folks Ne’er conceal a sigh For days when they were lads and lassies, Courting on the sly.

Everybody has a hobby, One they say have I ; I am his dollie, he’s my jolly Beta Theta Pi. W

&

il b u r

F is k S t o n e , DePauw ’ 57

SHE W E A R S M Y B E T A PIN

wears my Beta pin, Yes, she wears my Beta pin; She has a right to wear my Beta pin.

Stars that light the Beta skies, Lend their lustre to her eyes,— O f course she has a right to wear my pin, my Beta pin. h , sh e

64

When she wears my Beta pin, When she wears my Beta pin, The Diamond’s rarest hues flame from within.

O ’er her heart the Shield of Gold, Tells a story very old,— You know she has a right to wear my pin, my Beta pin.

H orace L

o z ie r ,

Chicago ’ 94

TH E BAN Q U ET H ALL hark! give heed to Wooglin’s call: Thrice welcome to the banquet hall!

The feast is spread, the wine is poured Come, gather ’round the festal board,— ark

!

And drink, drink, drink, drink, drink you nectar rare!

Drink, drink, drink, drink banish all our care!

In rare old Wine of Thirty-Nine, Pledge: Grand Old Beta, yours and mine!

Before this joyous night is gone, Before our last good song is sung, And while the lamps are growing dim W e’ll strike our glasses brim to brim,— H o r a c e L o z ie r , Chicago ’ 94

PR O G R E SSIV E E U C H R E B e t a maiden on the stair, z

A

\

With roguish eyes and beauty rare, I passed.

She smiled, and then she dropped a glove, And Cupid smote my heart with love, And made it trump.

I sealed the compact with a kiss, And in my intervals of bliss She assisted.

R obert E m m e t M

acA larn ey,

Dickinson ’ 93

A B A N Q U E T SO N G on this summer night argent lights are shining; Tenderly around our hearts Friendship’s bond is twining. r ig h t l y

Then chase away till coming day the thought that we must sever!

And pledge to Beta Theta Pi Fidelity forever.

Softly through the banquet light tender eyes are meeting; Kindly through the woodbine, too, Wooglin’s smile is greet­ ing.

Then draw the mystic circle ’round— hearts and voices blending; Let us pledge each other, now, friendship never ending.

C h a r l e s J o h n S e a m a n , Denison ’ 71

A SEREN AD E lady, come list at thy window While our friendship for thee we reveal; T h o ’ the magic of music can never T ell half the devotion we feel. w eet

For we cherish no love for another, T h o ’ she queenly and charming may be, Like that which so warmly is glowing In the heart of each Beta for thee.

W e have gazed on the fairest of beauties When adorned with their richest array But never before felt a passion So ardent and free from decay.

When far from thy presence, sweet lady, T h y name we shall never forget; And when sighing for pleasures departed W e’ll think of thee oft with regret.

Then forget we have broken thy slumbers, If thy heart so forgiving can be, And only remember, sweet lady, The affection we cherish for thee.

A B e t a B ard of 1868

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T h e Dear Old Hall ☆

☆

☆

T O TH E UNDERGRADUATES i a i l blithely on, O frail y o u n g bark, ' Your dapper canvas trim and neat!

Calm waters here your voyage mark No winds upon your fair sails beat.

The landscapes by the sloping shores O f the smooth stream down which you sail Are peaceful, and the swallow soars Over the gleaming purple vale.

For four short years sail gaily on, No lurking dangers cross your way, And every fast succeeding dawn Forecasts another happy day.

But look! Beyond the streamlet’s goal The surging sea awaits you, bark!

The ocean waves there toss and roll, The water there is deep and dark.

Be mindful that the sea is there, Anticipate the tempest’s blast, Make ready while the day is fair, The siren’s call must come at last!

R ic h a r d B r o w n Sc a n d r e t t , Jr., Amherst ’ n

T H E R E ’S A SCEN E a scene where brothers greet, where true kindred hearts do meet A t an altar sending love’s sweet incense high; Where is found without alloy purest store of earthly joy— ’T is within the halls of Beta Theta Pi. r e ’s

67

Cheer! cheer! cheer with hearts rejoicing!

Brightly sparkles ev’ry eye; And our bosoms feel the glow None but brothers’ heart may know While we sing the songs of Beta Theta Pi. Friendship gave our order birth— pure and lasting as the earth; Strong devotion to our motto gave us life.

W ith the help of brothers dear, and of God, we’ve naught to fear As we mingle in the din of earthly strife.

Yes, and Beta girls there are, pure and lovely, passing fair, W ho with brightest smiles enliven all our w ay; May our brothers ever prove worthy of such noble love Long as time shall last or earth shall have a day.

J o s e p h O sgood S t il l s o n , Hanover ’ 71

T H E B E T A SH RIN E com e

w ith heart and voice united,

W ith one accord our song we raise, And wake the loud and sounding chorus, Singing our fair old Beta’s praise.

Here, where we meet in bonds fraternal Here, where our sacred mem’ries twine, W e bring with joy our choicest laurels T o lay, fair Beta, on thy shrine.

Then sing to Beta, fair old Beta!

Then sing and raise the chorus high!

Then hail! to Beta, fair old Beta!

Hail, hail to Beta Theta Pi! O Beta, thou art ever glorious, T h y bonds are sweet, thy service joy!

The brightness of thy radiant image Years shall not dim nor time destroy.

Now, now to thee we bring our praises, While we around thy altar bow; Our loyal trust, our hearts’ devotion, Our love and faith we pledge thee now.

Jam es T

aft

H a t f i e l d , Northwestern ’ 83

68

W E G A T H E R A G A IN E g a t h e r again at the shrine, brother,

Where only the few can meet W ho relish the mystic canine, brother, That only the chosen eat.

And here where our hearts are enshrined, brother W e’ll make one off’ring more T o Wooglin, the monarch of mind, brother, The god of the Greeks of yore.

So, linked in our mystical chains, brother, W e’ll raise our fair banner on high, And be true to old Wooglin, who reigns, brother, In Beta Theta Pi. There’s a legend among us, you know, brother, That Wooglin only reigns W ith those in these regions below, brother, W ho value the force of brains.

And he will not crown your brow, brother, Unless in the battle’s strife By winning each victory now, brother, You win a bright, way thro’ life. ’T is not by the fortunes of fate, brother, That lasting fame is won; They only are victors great, brother, W ho win ev’ry step they run.

Then keep our motto in view, brother, And ever with lofty aim Be fearless and pure, and true, brother, And Wooglin will guard your fame.

J oh n H ogarth L

o z ie r ,

DePauw ’ 57

P L E D G E T O B E T A T H E T A PI the earth is wrapped in slumber, And the stars shine brightly down, Then we leave our toil and studies, And our cares in Beta drown; hen

69

Then with joy we meet our brothers, And with them raise voices high, And again in hearty friendship Pledge to Beta Theta Pi. Here we meet in joys fraternal, Meet to cheer our brothers on; Let us then, with hearts united, Speed the hours with joyous song; Looking forward to the future, Far its dazzling prospects try, And again in hearty friendship Pledge to Beta Theta Pi. Soon will come the days of parting, When we’ll leave these classic halls; Shall we go to win, to conquer, Where the voice of duty calls, If so, we must each be faithful, Keep our Stars and Diamond high, And again in hearty friendship Pledge to Beta Theta Pi. S a m u e l H e r b e r t C o l l in s , Denison ’ 74

AS B E T A S N O W W E M E E T s B eta s n o w w e m eet, a b ro th e r n e w to g reet B y g rasp of h a n d , by grasp of h a n d ;

Oh, may our sacred fire kindle a new desire, And true Greek love inspire for all our band.

Our splendid shield he bears; the wreath of gold he wears, And diamond bright, and diamond bright; Oh, may he ever gain pure and unsullied fame For Beta’s glorious name— for truth and right.

St a n l e y C o u l t e r , Hanover ’ 71

70

A B E T A ’S W E L C O M E brother,

to our social band we welcome you for

aye, And give to you the hearty grip of Beta Theta Pi. T o friendship true— we welcome you— on which you may rely, For hands are strong and hearts are warm in Beta Theta Pi! Oh, Beta Theta Pi! fair Beta Theta Pi! For hands are strong and hearts are warm in Beta Theta Pi! Our joys with you we’ll always share, but ne’er permit a sigh, For jolly are the boys, you’ll find, in Beta Theta Pi. And when around our social board our brimming cups we ply, The loudest toast shall ever be to Beta Theta Pi! Oh, Beta Theta Pi! fair Beta Theta Pi! The loudest toast shall ever be to Beta Theta Pi! A B e t a B ard of 1 847

T H E C H A P T E R M E E T IN G is the time when gathered here; while hearts from care are free, W e meet to sing the songs so dear, our Beta, songs to thee; And side by side in joy and pride, as brothers tried and true, The altar fires our hearts inspire while we our vows renew. w eet

Old chapter hall! where thoughts of days now past so quickly throng, Thou shalt soon know our last farewell and hear our part­ ing song; Still, while hope burns and life shall last, our thoughts shall linger yet Within these walls and sacred halls that we can ne’er for­ get.

C h a r l e s S il v e y S p r a g u e . Denison ’86

LE T US BE HAPPY TO-NIGHT I s w e meet in the chapter to-night, boys, Let our hearts be joyous and bright, boys, For our cause is noble and right, boys, So let us be happy to-night.

II W e’ve nothing now to fear, boys, There’s no barbarian near, boys, For none but Greeks come here, boys, So let us be happy to-night.

III Our hearts are in unison bound, boys, Bonds firmer cannot be found, boys, Our pledges are mutual and strong, boys, So let us be happy to-night.

IV A feast we here will find, boys, A joyous feast for the mind, boys, So leave all care behind, boys, And all be happy to-night.

V W e ’ve also a festal board, boys, W ith choicest bounty stored, boys, And who could wish for more, boys, T o make us all happy to-night.

VI And while the bowl is crowned, boys, While mirth and fun go round, boys, Loud shall our walls resound, boys, And we’ll all be happy to-night.

V II W e’ll talk of the victories won, boys, O f the triumphs yet to come, boys, 72

For Beta is second to none, boys, So let us be happy to-night.

V III Then we’ll nerve our hearts for the strife, boys, The best and most glorious of life, boys, And proud in the strength of our might, boys, W e’ll all be happy to-night.

IX Thus our order will always remain, boys, So long as merit can claim, boys, The triumph it justly has gained, boys, Then let us be happy to-night.

A B e t a B a r d of 1 865

W

T H E A L U M N I’S R E T U R N

singing again in the dear old hall of Beta Theta Pi— Where oft we met to sing these songs in golden days gone by.

E

are

Singing tonight, we are singing tonight, Singing in the dear old hall; Singing tonight, we are singing tonight, Singing in the dear old hall.

The altar’s light burns as bright tonight as e’er it burned of yore; A refuge from life’s battle edge, a home when toil is o’er.

As we sing tonight in the mystic light our sorrows quickly fly; And each brother’s heart is bound anew in Beta Theta Pi. C h a r l e s J o h n S e a m a n , Denison ’ 71

73

A T T H E B E T A SH RIN E we praise thee!

Now, in consecration, Kneel at thy altar, Pour out our libation.

May thy high purposes Be our inspiration!

Beta, we bow to thee. eta,

Wooglin, watch o’er us!

Aid us in endeavor!

Strengthen the ties of love Naught e’er shall sever!

May cherished memories Bind our hearts forever In Beta Theta Pi. E. G r a in g e r W

i l l ia m ,

Davidson ’33

TH E O LD CH APTER H ALL the place where oft we met; Rap gently at the door For Mem’ry holds it tender yet And will forever more.

Whate’er it be, ’twas once the shrine O f your fidelity and mine. e r e is

Turn up the light, and let the eyes Once more behold the spot; It is the same, yet what disguise!

The same, and yet ’tis not.

But here it was, and human change Our hearts from it shall ne’er estrange.

T he toilsome years that mark our brows Have wrought their havoc here; And alien feet through our retreat Move without qualm or fear; W hile forms no stranger eye can see Return, and here commune with me.

74

A tender greeting, dear old room!

And then once more, good-bye!

Turn down the light, for in the gloom These walls shall best reply ; And they and I thus best may see The ghosts of joys that used to be.

O s m a n C a s t l e H o o p e r , Denison ’ 79

D E F E N D T H Y SH RIN E ' r o m classic halls, O Beta’s sons!

From busy world, ye loyal ones, Arise! defend our sacred shrine Where burns the flame of love divine!

Dear Beta home, may peace be thine; Dear Beta home, may peace be thine!

Brave hearts and true, defend, defend thy shrine; Brave hearts and true, defend, defend thy shrine!

Around our gem the wreath entwines While beauty from its center shines; Around our altar let us stand Heart joined to heart, hand clasping hand.

W

il l ia m

B e r n a r d N o r t o n , Northwestern ’ 80

T H E SACRED T R Y S T the hall we gather, Whilst the rest of college sleep, T o sing the songs of Wooglin And our sacred tryst to keep.

round

Around our noble emblem W e Beta brothers throng, T o sing the songs of Wooglin And pass the grip along.

75

Where’er our fate may take us Upon this glorious land, Our thoughts will be of Wooglin, T he emblem of our band.

In after years of separation W e unite, and gather round T o quaff our brimming glasses, And Wooglin’s praises sound.

E. M . B., Virginia

C O N S E C R A T IO N T

>

ear

B e t a , ’tis of thee,

Emblem of purity, O f thee we sing; As, at thy altar’s light W e gather round to-night, Devotions, pure and bright, T o thee we bring.

And now we consecrate, Beta, inspiring great, Our lives to thee; Around the shrine we stand, An ever faithful band, And vowing, hand in hand, T h y shield to be.

A B e t a B a rd of 1878

B E N E D IC T U S Domino, omnia opera eius.

In omni loco dominationis eius.

Benedic, anima mea, Domino.

Ecce quam bonum et quam jucundum habitare fratres in unum.

Domine, salvum fac Beta Theta Pi.

e n e d ic it e

Selected by J a m e s T

a ft

H a t f ie l d , Northwestern ’ 83

BETA D O XO LO GY now, O God on high, Bless Beta Theta Pi; Let naught of wrong Sully our mystic gem, Let not the wreath be dim; Then shall praise be to Him T o whom our song.

A j

less

J o s e p h Sa l a t h ie l T

u n is o n ,

Denison â&#x20AC;&#x2122; 73

IN S C R IP T IO N F O R A F R A T E R N I T Y H O U SE D O O R serene, facing the east, Changeless you watch them come and go, the young And brave, the young in hand with pity, love, And cowardice and hate and strength, and all The thousand twisted somehow shining things That go with youth.. . . m b ig u o u s ,

You see them come: bright, eager, satiate Sometimes; you hear the muted music that They walk to, you alone, doorway, facing The splendid east: triumphal marches, deep W ith clamoring brass and cymbals jangling, muted T o all ears but yours; you see the palm leaves strewn For those who come in triumph to your haven.. . .

You note the quiet tread of those who come W ith pity, with wide hearts for the few who ask I t ; you hear the music of their march: the soft And tender music like the winds that weep In sudden hours when the world seems still.. . .

You see them all: the wise who find something; The fools, who seek not and who never find; The blind, who enter hands outstretched, who go A t last, the long dance done, still blind; the ones W ho come with eyes glistening for what there is T o take; the weary, to whom you stand as a dream

77

In a desert mist, a glimmering gained mirage; The satiate, whose youth burned out too soon; All, all, you see. . . . Changeless, ambiguous, You watch them go, you hear again the music.

And does it change or do the same strains sound For each as when he goes that you hear when He comes? O r do you hear the strain transposed, Defeat with modulations subtly wove Into the pattern you alone detect?

Serene, changeless, fronting the east, you take Them all and see them go at last, the long Dance done for them, the music new and sweet For those who come after to your wide arms.

C h a r l e s E d w a r d B u t l e r , Denver ’ 31

A T T H E B E T A H O U SE we meet with pleasure Here we feel the hearty grip; Following thoughts in rapid measure Lightly pass from lip to lip. e r e a g a in

W e can add to all our gladness If we sing a Beta song, For we know there is no sadness— When in song “ W e march along.”

In this crucible of friendship, W e have cast each selfish thought; T he gleam we caught of Beta stars Can never be forgot. ’Ere time shall mock this pleasure, And youth’s golden hours are sped, W e would leave this house a message For the living, not the dead.

From the bosom of true friendship, W ith a love that can not die, W e would breathe a future blessing— On old Beta Theta Pi. F o r r e s t H u n t e r K i r k p a t r i c k , Bethany ’ 27

78

OU R O LD B E TA HOME ll

hail our old Beta hom e,

The home that e’er offers rest, Where Wooglin prime is the host, And proffers us all the best.

Back to our old Beta home, W e have come again the way, The Beta lure is ever strong, For youth and for Silver Gray.

T o our dear old Beta home, Fly back, all ye careless years, And raise the roof as of old, Untamed sons of gamboliers.

Warm is our old Beta home, In memory’s garden dear, Where love wound ’round youthful hearts Its tendrils of yester-year.

Here in our old Beta home, Lay all of your grief aside, For those who’ve gone, yet within The mystic circle abide.

Theirs, in our old Beta home, Blest right to the welkin ring W ith paeans of joy, first theirs, Whose melodies now we sing.

Snug in our old Beta home, The haven so dear to me, There can come no sad’ning change Where anchors fidelity.

Gold bless our old Beta home, When final farewell shall sound, Love’s breath will then waft us on A fair wind and homeward bound.

W

alter

E m e r s o n D e n n is o n , Ohio Wesleyan ’ 77

79

T H E JO L L Y GREEKS we to college came; Swe-de-le we dum bum!

But soon we learned to hate that name; Swe-de-le we dum bum!

For slowly passed the unpleasant weeks, Swedele we tchu hi-ra-sa!

Until we joined the jolly Greeks; Swe-de-le we dum bum!

a r b a r ia n s

Litoria, Litoria, Swedele we tchu hi-ra-sa!

Litoria, Litoria! Swe-de-le we dum bum!

The tutors made us grub and dig; Swe-de-le we dum bum!

T he lessons tough and deep and big! Swe-de-le we dum bum!

But when we tasted college sweets, Swedele we tchu hi-ra-sa!

W as when we joined the jolly Greeks; Swe-de-le we dum bum!

The dorg with ever present aid, Swe-de-le we dum bum!

Assists us when the cloth is laid, Swe-de-le we dum bum!

And mingles freely in the meats, Swedele we tchu hi-ra-sa!— That ever cheer the jolly Greeks; Swe-de-le we dum bum!

Sa m u e l L a w r e n c e W

ard,

Wabash ’ 73

L E T A L L STAN D T O G E T H E R stand together— a band of true men— Vive la Theta P i!

And help one another with hand, mouth and pen, Vive la Theta Pi!

ET

all

Vive la, vive la, vive la va— Vive la, vive la, vive la va— Vive la va, hop sa sa, vive la Theta P i!

W e ’ll merit the trust that our brothers repose, Vive la Theta Pi! And sooner will die than betray to their foes, Vive la Theta Pi! 80

Thus honor shall come to the badge that we wear, Vive la Theta Pi! And ev’ry true Beta that honor shall share, Vive la Theta Pi! D a v id H a s t in g s M

oore,

Ohio ’ 60

W E ’L L A L W A Y S H A N G T O G E T H E R i

o m e , Betas, let us sing a song and banish care forever!

Far from our mystic festive throng which naught on earth can sever: For we belong to Beta Theta Pi, For we belong to Beta Theta Pi, For we belong to Beta Theta Pi, And we’ll always hang together.

So, brothers, fill a beaker up and pledge to Wooglin hoary!

And when each Greek has drained his cup we’ll have a rous­ ing story: A rth ur L

r

e w is

H u g h e s , Denison ’ 79

T H E C R O W SO N G

hungry Greeks went forth one day, Vive la Theta Pi! Three hungry Greeks went forth one day, Vive la Theta Pi! Three hungry Greeks went forth one day T o where old Wooglin holds his sway, And they all filled their lungs and cried: Phi-kai-Phi! Vive la Theta Pi! And they all filled their lungs and cried: Phi-kai-Phi! Vive la Theta Pi! hree

Said one grim Greek unto his mates: ’T is here there live two potentates; They call them Wooglin and his dog, The canine’s fat as any hog; 81

If Wooglin comes forth with his beast, W e ’ll kill the pup and have a feast; Then here’s to Beta Theta Pi, Fill up your lungs and give the cry!

R a l p h P arsons S m i t h , Denison ’88

T H E P A R T IN G H O U R , a d l y in our hall we gather,

For the parting hour has come; On the morrow we shall sever, Through the wide, wide world to roam.

Sadness rests on every visage— Gloom enshrouds our dear old hall; Sorrow flings his mantle o’er us Like a dark funereal pall.

Nevermore, in sweet communion, Shall we here with gladness sing, Praises to Old Father Wooglin— Offerings to his altar bring.

Sailing on life’s stormy ocean, May our barks in triumph ride; Brave its perils and cast anchor Safely on the other side.

M

e l v il l e

M

c K ee

V a u g h a n , Centre ’ 78

B E T A W A R SO N G

0

council-fires are blazing bright, Our bucks are true and brave; But we must leave our squaw behind, The young papoose to save.

The heathen dogs our wigwams seek, W ith shout and battle-cry; But we will fight till blood meets bloodHi! hi! whoop! hi! hihi! ur

82

W e’ll place King Wooglin in the front, As chieftain of our clan, And ’round the badge of triple stars W e ’ll rally man to man.

W e’ll send the pup— young Limber-Snout, T o scent the Pawnee sty, And when he yelps, we’ll draw and shout: Hi! hi! whoop! hi! hihi!

Then don the war-paint, all ye braves, Gird fast your scalping blade; W ith tomahawks and rifles true W e’ll make our midnight raid.

And when dull sleep has closed their eyes, And dangers seem not nigh, W e’ll startle earth with one wild shriek: Hi! hi! whoop! hi! hihi!

W e’ll meet no more our virgin squaw, No longer track the deer; ’T ill high on glory’s bannered heights W e read our title clear.

And then around our wigwam fires W e’ll smoke our pipes, and shy A bloody scalp at each papoose— Hi! hi! whoop! hi! hihi!

D a v id R e e d M i l l e r , Monmouth ’ 74

M E M O R IE S “ And now let Hand grasp into Hand— ” (

rflofc. t h r e e long years, M y Brothers, we lived together J and knew, W ith our arms on each other’s shoulders, the ties which belong to “ the few.”

For three long years, M y Brothers, together we’ve shouted praise, And toasted the glories of Beta, and passed our pleasantest days.

For three long years, M y Brothers, together we’ve sung the songs T o the glory of good old Wooglin, and fought for each other’s wrongs.

For three long years, M y Brothers, we’ve rushed, we’ve spiked, and we’ve worked And gathered the pledgelings for Beta, a task which none of us shirked.

For three long years, M y Brothers, we’ve fought in college and class, When often ’twas Greek against Greek, and sometimes ’twas Greek against “ Mass.”

For three long years, M y Brothers, together we’ve worn with pride The Stars, the Wreath and the Diamond, and never their glory denied.

Our three long years are over and our time is coming fast, Let us meet once more M y Brothers, and drink to the times which are passed.

Let us sing once more, M y Brothers, our glorious Beta hymn, And form our Mystic Circle, that our wreaths may not grow dim.

Fill up your steins my Brothers and hold your heads on high And we’ll drink to what brought us together dear Beta Theta Pi. J o r d a n H e r b e r t S t a b l e r , Johns H of kins ’ 07

M IL IT A N T B E TA an anthem raise ere we depart; Let the high notes of praise burst from each heart.

Symbol of unison sing with one voice; Bid the strain wake again till the walls rejoice. ^

rothers,

Chant we the praise of those who from the night First brought our order forth brilliant with light.

They who, though all were foes, knew not to yield, T ill strong might crowned the right ’neath Beta’s stainless shield.

Then, ere our anthem dies, bidding us part, Let our proud chorus rise full from each heart.

Sing for the love ye bear Greek soul to Greek; Once again wake the strain, Beta’s praises speak!

A B e t a B a rd o f 1885

84

T H E P A R T IN G P L E D G E follows day, and summer flowers Fade in the autumn’s blast, *■»«$So now must end these happy days, Our parting’s come at last; No time shall make these memories fade, No distance shall divide; Our hearts the meeting-place is made O f brothers true and tried. ig h t

Clasp hands, once more, Greek, clasp with Greek!

One word must break the spell: “ Farewell! ” O , hardest word to speak!

Friends of our hearts: “ Farewell! ” The bugle calls to life’s campaign, Our parting may be long; But ere we go, we, once again, Must plight our faith in song.

So, on these altars here tonight W e pledge our honor true T o be the bravest in the fight, And noblest deeds to do.

D a v id H a s t in g s M

oore,

Ohio ’ 60

P A R T IN G SO N G let hand grip into hand, and eye look into eye, As breaks the leal and loving band of Beta Theta Pi; O f Beta Theta Pi, my boys, of Beta Theta P i; As breaks the leal and loving band of Beta Theta Pi. now

The outside world is wrapped in sleep, no barbaros is nigh, As we these midnight vigils keep of Beta Theta Pi; O f Beta Theta Pi, my boys, of Beta Theta P i; As we these midnight vigils keep of Beta Theta Pi. And now let hand grip into hand, and eye look into eye, As love flows free from heart to heart in Beta Theta Pi; In Beta Theta Pi, my boys, in Beta Theta Pi; As love flows free from heart to heart in Beta Theta Pi. C h a r l e s H e m m e n w a y A d a m s , DePauw ’ 65

85

Poems o f Chapter Sentiment ☆

☆

☆

IN O L D C H I ye sons of fathers bold in Chi of old Beloit!

Hail the men whose lives have told in Chi of old Beloit!

Sing the day of Beta’s birth; sing of love and truth and worth; Sing the bravest sons of earth in Chi of old Beloit! \

in g ,

Beta, glorious, strong and true!

Loyal sons— we praise thee anew.

Ever heart to heart— while eye looks into eye, The boys of Chi of Beta Theta P i!

Diamond’s lustre bright and clear in Chi of old Beloit Sheds its light upon us here in Chi of old Beloit; No barbarian can annoy us who know the true Greek’s joy; Naught can e’er our trust destroy in Chi of old Beloit!

Jolliest days we e’er shall know in Chi of old Beloit; Days that all too quickly go in Chi of old Beloit!

Ours the grip of friendship true; ours the strength to strive and do; Ours the love that’s ever new in Chi of old Beloit.

R o w l a n d E d g a r L e a c h , Beloit ’ 08

C H A P T E R CHI forever, Chapter Chi, Child of Beta Theta P i; Her we’ll cherish and stand by T ill the end we see. iv e

*

*

*

Chi is not a sordid gem, But as of a diadem; Like the star of Bethlehem, Showing nobler life.

Calumny can never stain, Neither slander, tho’ ’twould fain; Heaven will keep her free from bane, And from hostile strife.

86

Hallow and enshrine her name; Make it pure with friendship’s flame; Wreathe it round with honor’s fame, As a gem of light.

W ear it on a loyal breast; Make its virtues searching test; Use it so ’twill serve you best, In the cause of right. *

*

*

On with the Dorg! let joy abound!

Fill the glasses three times round; Let every cup with mirth be crowned, For Beta Theta Pi; Drink gladly to her daughter rare, Sing blithely of that daughter fair, W ith whom no maiden can compare: Her fairest daughter, Chi. A B e t a B a r d of i 874

CH I CH A PTE R M ARCH all ye Betas, praises of old Chi, Best of all chapters under western sky; May those who follow, add to thy fame T ill Wooglin’s legions thy praise acclaim.

Raise a song, Loud and strong, For Chi of old Beloit! in g ,

When we have parted from these cherished halls T o take our places where’er duty calls, W e shall remember friendships so fine In dear Chi Chapter through auld lang syne.

Raise a song, Loud and strong, For Chi of old Beloit!

Marching on, keeping her banners high, Singing her songs of praise, Keeping faith that will never die After our college days; 87

Ever striving to do the right For Beta Theta Pi, “ Old Wooglin watches with sleepless eye” Over the loyal men of C h i!

D a v id G o u l d F i f i e l d , Beloit ’ 21

O M E G A ’S H Y M N the western sky Nearing the foam, Light with thy closing eye Omega’s home, Shed on her loyal sons Light from above; Strengthen fidelity, Friendship and love. u n in

Pale moon in Night’s caress (Modest thy rays), Circling in tenderness, Hearken our praise, As fall thy quiet beams High ether through, So shine our modesty Tender and true.

Stars, show thy haloed heads!

Come forth to-night.

Flowers of God’s azure meads, Sparkling and bright, As in the darkened dome Glist’ning you stand, So, by good deeds on earth, Shine “ Wooglin’s” band.

Ruler of earth and sky!

Giver of love!

Be to our motives nigh— Guard from above, Grant us true manhood’s fame, Life’s purest joys, Guide to an honored name Our Beta boys!

C h a r l e s S t e t s o n W h e e l e r , California ’ 84 (Written November 24, 18 8 3 )

88

O M E G A 1879-1929 Betas gathered here, W e meet tonight from far and near, W ith happy greetings warm and strong, With smile and cheer and college song. rother

T o celebrate the fifty years, Omega dear with hopes and fears Was started on Pacific’s strand, Remote in this far western land.

T o those who formed the chapter then, A group of true and earnest men, W ho held the standard firm and high, Like stars set in the evening sky.

T o Bird and Harrier we will give T o Armes and Harding while we live All honor as we sing their praise, For glorious work in early days.

As to the past we turn once more And contemplate the days of yore, W hat memories come of olden days T o us who now are “ silver grays,” When ringing bell to classes called, Though nature’s paths our feet enthralled; The sapphire skies and sunlit bay And babbling brooks lured us away.

W ho can forget the secret joy Which each one felt without alloy When asked to join old Wooglin’s band While welcome came from heart and hand.

W e heard the words and felt the thrill, Though years have gone we hear them still, W ith Beta’s name in hymn of praise, The solemn rites and songs we raise

Shall live with us through all the years, T o warm our hearts and calm our fears; Because we found such friendship high In bonds of Beta Theta Pi, W e now who meet again tonight T o celebrate the Beta rite, Renew our vows and pledge anew T o brothers here our friendship true.

Our Alma Mater grows apace As years go by and takes her place Among the seats of learning grand, A glory to this western land.

And when her sons were called to serve W ith wisdom as her needs deserve, Omega gave her Regents three T o serve the University.

In every walk and work of life Our men go forth fit for the strife, And win renown and eminence O f Beta ideals the consequence.

Though change is seen on every side, Though dear North Hall does not abide And the old class bell is heard no more, But pealing chimes their songs outpour, Y et still the Berkeley hills are there, T he vales and trees and vistas rare, Across the bay the Golden Gate, Beyond, the sea still lures to Fate— But, ah, the grief that comes to me In greeting you whom now I see; I grieve for those gone on before And long to see them all once more.

Our brothers gone were of the best, There’s Wheeler, Bentley and the rest, Though they be dead, we feel they’re here, Oh, loving hearts! draw near, draw near.

90

Come Betas all, both young and old, Sage Wooglin’s sons from every fold, Unite in this our mystic tie In praise of Beta Theta Pi. Sons of Omega, brothers all, W ho meet again in this old hall, While we unite in song and story, T o celebrate the chapter’s glory.

W e all bequeath the Beta spirit For active members to inherit, W ith firm injunction that they must Forever guard the sacred trust.

May friendship, loyalty, and truth, As in Omega’s early youth, Be cherished by the younger men W ho make the chapter live again.

And now may God who rules on high, Bless all in Beta Theta Pi, And watch and guide to future joys Omega Chapter’s Beta boys.

W i l l i a m A d a m M a g e e , California ’87

T O OM EGA v t h e beautiful western ocean, Under skies of purest blue, Lies a land of wondrous beauty, Dwells a people, brave and true.

And in that glorious sunset land, And by that quiet main, True Greeks have reared aloft the Walls of Wooglin’s golden fane.

Omega! brethren of the West, Think not our hearts are cold, Dream not thou’rt absent from our hearts, Though distant from our fold.

W e send the warmth of friendship’s charm

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That true hearts can command, From the shores of Massachusetts, And of Roger Williams’ land.

Omega! glorious evening star O f Beta Theta Pi, To-night thy name is on our lips, In praise of thy renown.

Fair Harvard joins her voice to-night W ith Boston, Amherst, Brown.

O , brethren of that distant land, Our hearts shall beat as one.

Our bosoms for each other glow, As glows your western sun; And greater yet shall grow the throngs, That at our altars wait, From Narragansett’s rugged shores, E ’en to your golden gate.

T ill through the land the echoes roll O f our triumphant cry, T he Eastern Greeks— the Western Greeks, T he Beta Theta Pi! W

alter

F o ste r A

ngell,

Brown ’ 80

L A M B D A K A P P A SO N G A Cheer for Lambda Kafipa name of Lambda Kappa be Always a symbol of fidelity!

How often in our minds we will find a place For the mem’ries of our Alma Mater— Case! ay t h e

Give a cheer for Lambda Kappa!

Let your voices loudly ring!

Good fellowship’s among us and by friend­ ship’s tie we’re bound; Give a cheer for Lambda Kappa, Let your voices loud resound!

For our hearts are with her always, And of her we gladly sing.

92

May the eye of Wooglin ever see All our efforts joined in unity!

Strong: and steadfast each with each will vie X o enrich the fame of Beta Xheta Pi. D a v id J o se p h V a r n e s , Case ’ 10

L A M B D A R H O C H A P X E R SO N G to our Alma Mater, boys, Chicago, Chicago— go!

Stand for a health to Beta, boys, to Beta and Lambda Rho. Cheery our voices ringing, merry the songs we’re singing, Happy the heart that knows no care; What tho’ our tutors fail us, trials can ne’er assail us While Beta’s azure skies are fair.

Xhen— here’s to Chicago— go, And a health to Lambda Rho, And Beta Xheta Pi! Y e a ! ! in k

W e are the boys of old Chicago!

Hail to the boys of old Chicago!

Ready for fight or fun, each man a true Beta son, You’ll never lay eyes on a jollier crew, that’s true!

Are you a foe, we’re here to meet you; Are you a friend, we’re here to greet you. “ Gemma nostra candeat,” Chicago and old Lambda Rho. When college life is over, boys, and we’ve joined the Silver Grays, When ev’ry son’s a Beta, boys, and we dream of chapter days, Footsteps will surely lead us, back to the halls that made us Worthy of Beta’s honored name.

Betas of old returning, we’ll find the diamond burning, W e’ll find old Lambda Rho the same.

Xhen— health to Chicago-go, And a toast for Lambda Rho, And Beta Xheta Pi! F o r !!

H a r r y R u s s e l l S t a p p , Chicago ’ 12

93

B E T A T H E T A M A R C H IN G SO N G / L i J it h shout and song old Wooglin’s throng proclaims in roushing chorus Allegiance to her colors true, enduring and victorious W ith sounding beat of conquering feet the echoes clear awaken; And shakes the ground as marching round our altar fire again we swear the oath we all have taken.

Yes, we abandon all, for Beta Theta calls us T o be her sturdy sons, to count not what befalls us.

So proudly raise the dragon banner high And fight for Beta Theta Pi, for Beta Theta Pi! From altar bright the mystic light our gallant band inspires T o emulate the victories great of Beta’s worthy sires.

W ith rev’rence high we magnify Adelphia’s fame unbounded; Her sacred shrine is yours and mine; in Phi kai Phi our faith shall lie in friendship deeply founded.

U r i d g e W h i f f i n F o r d , Colgate ’ 07

T H E S IL V E R G R A Y S board with dainty fare, I see down through the mists of years; And Wooglin’s spirit strong is there, And Beta songs and yells and cheers. banquet

Y e Betas of the good old time I call the roll: one answers not; Brown high in honors, fell in prime, Earth’s not so rich, he’s not forgot.

Y e men of Colgate answer true The roll: Haynes, Perry, Duffy, “ Ben,” Pettys, Steelman, Kneeland— men all through— And Fuller: there were giants then.

Nor greater they than now I ween Are Allison, Mason, Smith and Coe, Todd, Sweeney, Halverstadt to name, Beck, Tremper; for none better grow.

94

Some rose some fell; some rose and fell, As comes the tide with sweep and grace, It matters not— for Truth to tell— Ambition, rank, and power and place Are empty forms, and laurel bays Are withered soon and fame’s a breath.

Swift passed the years, we’re Silver Grays, But love and hope are strong as death.

Y e Betas old time mornings kissed, Y e Betas on Atlantic shore, W e Betas neath Pacific’s mist Send greetings as in days of yore.

Y e Betas out on yonder star, Whence comets come with greetings true From Wooglin’s sons in regions far, In silence deep we drink to you. “ They show me bits of dimpled sod,” They say some Silver Grays lie there; “ Oh, no, they swell the choirs of God,” And Beta songs are everywhere.

F r e d e r ic k W

elton

C o l e g r o v e , Colgate ’ 82

A T O A S T T O C O L U M B IA

V

e’ v e s a t

before the dying fire,

And rocked with you upon the porch, The memories of Beta dear Are fuel we give to feed your torch.

Nor youth nor age can fully know Where vision fades, and life grips fast Old Wooglin’s treasured gift to us, T o cheer the journey to the last.

But we who pledged to diamond fair, And triple stars that light our way, Have learned that up the weary climb, The hills of life are bright as day.

95

So drink a toast with us tonight, As eye looks into brother’s eye— W e ’ll feel the grip of Beta sons And give Old Tim e the passing lie. e l l e s K e e l e r , Wesleyan ’ 04 (T o Alpha Alpha Chapter of Beta Theta Pi, Columbia University, on the Fiftieth Anniversary)

R alph W

A SO N G O F B A T T L E ! ” Columbia men exclaim In letters four feet high. “ A ll hail unto the mighty name O f Beta Theta Pi.”

l l h a il

11

‘

Y e frats, put on your gridiron togs!

Come out to do or die!

Has football gone unto the dogs? “ N it!” say Beta Theta Pi. “ And if we cannot get a game W ith Harvard or Cornell, W e ’ll play with prep schools just the same W ith loud hilarious yell.” “ So, Morris, quake and quail with fear!

Beware, O Clinton High!

A mighty team is drawing near, ’T is Beta Theta Pi.” And when they’re through with you they’ll turn T o Vassar and Bryn Mawr.

And many an aching heart will burn For corpses splashed with gore.

So, Freshmen, cheer with glad acclaim And toss your caps on high!

For we’ve been given back the game

By Beta Theta Pi! Columbia Jester, 1907 (W hen intercollegiate football was banned) 96

BETA DELTA Fr a t e r n a l ties bind us as one,

In love and confidence; Our altar’s light, bright as the sun, Is Beta’s sure defense.

In honor we will guard the name O f Beta Theta Pi. Friendship, fidelity and fame Spring from our mystic tie.

Chorus: For Beta Delta live, T o “ Beta” honor give; Each jolly Greek W ill ever seek T o “ Beta” honor give.

King Wooglin o’er us e’er shall reign, Within the triple tie; His greeting smile we’ll strive to gain, While failure we defy.

W ith branches reaching far and wide, Our chapter shall endure, While in our hearts its roots abide, And ever rest secure.

Chorus: For Beta Delta, etc.

Her footsteps time can not efface, O r hide them from our view ; Each coming year shall give her grace, Each day her strength renew, Each hour new laurels for her gain, ’Neath Beta Delta’s walls, T o manhood’s higher type attain— Respond when duty calls.

Chorus: For Beta Delta, etc.

King Wooglin guide our youthful aims, A brightening future give; For truth and right we press our claims, For noble action live.

97

May Beta Delta ever stand Beside the parent tree, ’Neath “ Beta’s” shadows— noble— grand— Rest our Fraternity.

Chorus: For Beta Delta live, T o “ Beta” honor give; Each jolly Greek W ill ever seek T o “ Beta” honor give.

H enry W

alter

W

il h e l m

, Cornell ’ 80

ALPH A OM EGA Eleazar Wheelock came, not many men stood by When he founded Dartmouth College and heard the In­ dian’s cry; W ith men of brawn and circumstance he placed the Green on high And he called the best among them: Men of Sigma Delta Pi. w

hen

Sing then for Dartmouth and the men who gave us fame!

The past is still the present, boys, for those who love her name.

From Wheelock down to Tucker, the song is still the same: The college that we cheer is good old Dartmouth.

The name of old Vitruvia bro’t forth a spirit new, And men of skill and mark and fame around this banner drew.

And those who rallied round it were men whom honor knew; For the spirit of devotion made them loyal sons and true.

The sons of old Vitruvia and Sigma Delta Pi In eighty-nine stepped in the ranks of Beta Theta Pi. And the younger sons and silver grays with one another vie T o bear the Beta standard on ’neath Wooglin’s watchful eye.

R o b e r t B r a in a r d M

o seley,

Dartmouth ’ 04

F O U R YE A R S A N D M O R E HAVE G ON E years and more have gone, And yet it seems to me but yester-eve W e lay on verdant crown of “ Sugar-Loaf” And listened to the dying notes of day, And watched with quiet joy the full-orb’d sun descend our

And twilight spread its mantle o’er the sleepy town That lay beneath embowered in the trees.

Four years and more have gone, And yet we seem to linger still, we three, Upon the summit of that storied mound.

The light has faded from the western sky, And ’round our grassy couch the misty night descends That brings with fading forms of life its silence sweet, As benediction to the passing day.

Four years and more have gone, And still we seem to see that quiet scene From “ Sugar-Loaf’s” green top— the starry night— The misty outline of the Rac-co-on— The faint, uncertain lights that glimmer thro’ the trees T o guide belated wanderers ’long the grass-grown streets And sparkle cheer from Granville’s peaceful homes.

Four years and more have gone, And still we seem to gaze with quiet joy On old familiar scenes— and there above The universal canopy of leaves, On yonder neighboring hill-top ’gainst the northern sky, An hundred lights from college halls, where bends the pale And plodding student o’er his nightly task.

Four years and more have gone, Since we lay dreaming on that lofty couch.

Hearts ne’er the chords of faith and friendship struck T o clearer tones than midst these scenes did ours.

Our hopes for future years we told without reserve, The loves and hates of each were to the others known, And joys and sorrows were a common share.

Four years and more have gone, Since last we looked into the star-lit sky And read our futures there— no thought of books Nor morrow’s calls to face professors grave; For what within us burned was not in Physics found, Nor in the Greek of Homer, nor in Cicero, Nor in the science of the sun and stars.

Four years and more have gone, Since there with boyish zeal we stirred the fires O f restless longing for the living foe

99

And battles with the world of men and things.

For dull-eyed, pale-faced men the light of midnight oil, For us the kindly freedom of unfettered night T o let ambition soar to worlds beyond.

Four years and more have gone, Since, bound by ties of sympathy and love, — T he current of respect ne’er crossed by strife— W e planned and built our castles tall and fair And felt already in our grasp expected fame, Then laughed to feel ambition quite annihilate T he intervening years, as in a dream.

Four years and more have gone, Since there in solemn night, our fortunes cast, W e talked of homes our thrifty hands should raise, Enriched with vintage of a constant love; And how our princely incomes should be daily spent In travel, books, and just perhaps a little, too, In sport, with modicum of charity.

Four years and more have gone, Since, poor in purse yet rich in heart, we said— Should poverty the hand of either grasp O r chance deny the wealth of woman’s love, T he other two would draw before their cheerful fires T he easy rocker for an honored guest, and fill His soul with wine of self-forgetfulness.

Four years and more have gone.

How many changes mark the flight of time!

The three who there but yester-eve looked out On distant futures and the stars, are gone— Their couch upon the hill by other dreamers filled.

On distant fields they fight the fight with living foes And build the homes their young ambitions reared.

Four years and more have gone.

T he sun still sets beyond the western hill, The self same shadows of the evening fall, The self same misty line— the Rac-co-on; So in our hearts the self same love of yesterday, So in our distant homes the sweet and welcome thought That days and years, but nothing more, have gone.

W i l l i a m C y r u s S p r a g u e , Denison ’81

100

,

A L P H A E T A SO N G M o m e, boys, w e have a jolly band, I , And ev’rywhere we take our stand W e welcome you to friendship true.

T o friendship firm and true.

Then, pledge to Beta Theta Pi; Oh, may her future be As bright as shines the mystic gem O f the fraternity.

Hurrah! hurrah! for Beta Theta Pi! W e sing of Beta Theta Pi, Our love for her will never die.

Rejoice! Be true! Y e favored few, In Beta Theta Pi. Your heart responds with a mighty thrill Which time and fortune cannot kill, Whene’er you feel the hearty grip O f Beta Theta Pi. Then, pledge to Beta Theta Pi; Oh, may her future be As firm and lasting as the grip O f the fraternity.

Be this our toast to Denison: Oh, may thy sons united stand As long as time shall onward move And mankind live and die; Then thro’ the years will shine a star, Its light ascend on high, It is the Alpha Eta star O f Beta Theta Pi. W i l l i a m H o w a r d C o x , Denison ’ 07

T H E H O U SE O N T H E H IL L

6

H i l l s of old Licking, that gracefully rise

And reach, as in love, for the kiss of the skies, W e joyously sing of your vistas so fair, The town you embrace and the college you bear I 101

O f Granville, the peaceful and friendly, our praise For loveliness grows with the lengthening days; And Denison, Mother, who guided our feet, Receives our affection, abiding, complete.

But dearest of all is that sanctified spot Where Betas may gather, and others may not, Where fellowship flows with its balm for distress, W ith urge to endeavor and praise for success.

Our House is a glorious rose in full bloom; The long-ago bud was an everyday room— A room that still held to our marveling sight T he shrine of our vows with its mystical light.

Since frienship began, of true manhood the test, Our Beta ideals are brotherhood’s best; Years whiten the hair and enfeeble the frame, But the shine of the stars is forever the same.

O f friendship enduring, these walls and this roof, This cheer, and this beauty, and comfort are proof.

For out of the distance, as with one will, Came hands to build for us our House on the Hill.

Within is the free-hearted friendship of youth, Around us a loyalty stable as truth; And, far though we roam, it will summon us still— This House Love has builded for us on the Hill.

O sm a n C a st l e H o o p e r , Denison ’ 79

G R A N V IL L E

^

J \ f o l o v e l i e r spot Ohio knows Than where the restful Raccoon flows, Where country highways, strolling down In friendship meet in Granville town.

Where stately hills, elate though dumb, From out the fields of plenty come And, tree-crowned, ’neath celestial blue, Hold their eternal rendezvous.

102

Where, set by human artist hand, The village and the college stand— T w in jewels that shall ever shine In your fond memory and mine.

O Denison and Granville town W ith highways up and byways down, W ith learning, laughter, love and song And striving to be good and strong. ’T is not the ardent, youthful host You shelter now that loves you most, But we— we absent ones— who know Earth has no nooks that fairer grow.

O s m a n C a s t l e H o o p e r , Denison ’ 79

G R A N V IL L E , O H IO upon the mountain, The azure of the sky, The white of fleecy cloudlets Serenely floating high. green

The flowers in the gardens, Displaying gorgeous hues, Like magic dreams of angels Their morning lights suffuse.

Majestic trees o’er-spreading, In newest shades of green— All these but frame a picture O f sublimated sheen.

The village is the picture That glorifies the frame, A place of rare enchantment That ratifies its fame.

The fairies mixed the colors In revential hush, While rare magician spread them W ith some celestial brush 103

The winsome tout ensemble Delights the eye and heart, Proclaiming fairy Granville A masterpiece apart.

F r a n c is B a l l P e a r so n , Wooster ’ 85

ALPH A Z E T A i n a l l the wild and woolly west W e are quite the very best— Men of Beta!

T o Colorado’s sunny sky W e lend the color, none deny— Alpha Zeta.

Good fellows each and ev’ry man, Husky braves of Wooglin’s clan, A t Denver U! And when you come to Denver town W e ’ll gladly show you up and down, Here’s how! here’s how! to you!

Cheer then for grand old Beta!

Cheer then for Alpha Zeta!

Long may such names inspire us T o worthy deeds of fame!

Strive ev’ry man with ardor, Blaze Beta’s name on high.

Fighting for Wooglin’s honor, For Beta Theta Pi! Sa m u e l E a r l B l a k e s l e e , Denver ’ 03

BETA ROCK i o t a ’s ties are stro n g an d tru e , They are the ties fraternal, That find their roots in human hearts, And are like love eternal.

Full seventy years have swept their course Over the hills and valley, 104

Since round Iota’s standard high Her boys began to rally.

They planted it on \Vooglin’s Rock ’Mid night and execration, But now our flag fraternal floats In triumph o’er the nation.

For ave let ‘Beta Rock’ be held Svmbol of strength and beauty, And to Iota’s sons forth tell The path of truth and duty.

Dear Chapter Rock, thv crest and sides, That face all storms and weather, Once refuge gave her loyal sons.

W e’ll cherish thee forever.

S a m u e l N e w t o n W i l s o n , M anner ’ 72

THE BETA ROCK &

ld

I o ta Chapter

Peers down through vender gorge; There’s Beta Rock to thrill her And hero souls to for^e.

Old Iota Chapter Recalls the dav of yore When ban was her altar Within the household door.

Old Iota Chapter Took out to the wood.

When the night did shroud her, By the Rock she strcd.

Old Iota Chapter Renewed her vigils good.

Renewed the troth within her.

As by the Rock she stood.

E d w a r d To h x B r c w x .

IC n

*“ 3

T O SA M : B E T A rROM old Beta Rock I greet thee;

From Iota’s field I hail thee; Amid the Beta boys I cheer thee; ’T is a sweet and dear enswathement.

Now sing we a song of Beta; Now build we the house of Wooglin; Now mould we the temple chastely; ’T w ill be sweet and dear achievement.

Go we to the fields so vernal; Strive we to the heights supernal; Where the friendships are eternal; ’T w ill then be consummation great.

E d w a r d J o h n B r o w n , Hanover ’ 73

T o Samuel N. Wilson, Hanover ’ 72

B E T A A L P H A C O M IN G -IN true men, sing her praises grand! y Her gracious presence strive to please.

Let fair night hear this joyous band Raise her fame among the trees.

W ho is she whom we all adore ?

A ll hail! to Beta Theta Pi! Let the stars catch her praises high— Hail! all hail! hail! all hail!

Then raise a-loft our cry once more: Hail to Beta Theta Pi! om e,

Praise thy name, praise thy name, Hail to Beta Theta P i!

Our hearts shall evermore for thy sacred altar sigh.

Praise thy name, praise thy name, Hail to Beta Theta Pi! Beta, we love thee; Hark! how thy children praise thee: Fighting life’s battles, from thee our strength deriving, So may we worship and with laurel thee adorn.

106

W e love thine honored name.

Yes, we love thine honored name.

T T Tl 11 ' -1I Haii. all naii.

Hail! all hail! all hail!

Hail to Beta Theta Pi

hail!

March we down Kenyon's Middle Path W ith hearts a-glow and face? bright.

Filled with pride for cld Kenyon's fame Her sons will ever right!

Raise we then cur shouts for her.

And for Beta Theta Pi we’ll sing.

Answer echoes the glad refrain: Hail! all hail! hail! all hail!

Then raise a-loft our cry once more: Hail to Beta Theta Pi! R a y m o n d D u b o is C a h a l l .

M A R C H IN G SO N G r e t h e dawn of earlr morning, «■ p. * . *_ 5 _• iSJI tne eastern s^v accmmg.

Wakens earth with kindlv warning, Dav again is nigh!

See adown the broad path swinging, TT1^ • • • \\ nne tne campus a_ is rmg:ng.

Comes, with shout and voice cf sin gin Beta Theta Pi.

Chcrus: ^•

*

*y

f

i?:ng, tnen, nome Betas.

Loud your voices raising; \ f

*

%

•

*

«

« «i

M arcnm g neatn tne p:n£ anc r.ue

Its virtues ever rraisinz.

Stars, in sparkling beauty shining; Diamond, with the wreath entwinl In our hearts, with love enshrining Beta Theta Pi. W ith our hearts for Kenvrn bu « • « • i * •tu v -p! ♦» w«

A

10“

W ith, perhaps, a Harcourt yearning, As we softly sigh; Y et o’er all its strength revealing, Comes the love of brothers, stealing, And we shout with voices pealing Beta Theta Pi! Forward, then, in exultation; Future bright with expectation, Catching glorious inspiration Which shall never die; For, though on the life before us, Clouds of trouble darken o’er us, Still we’ll raise the joyful chorus: Beta Theta Pi. A B e t a B a r d of 1897 Written for the Kenyon Chapter W O O G L I N ’S SON , IN V ISIO N 1 .................................................. o o g l in s son, in vision, seeming

Pondering, wondering, musing, dreaming, Heavenward lifts his raptured gaze— Where, with dazzling splendor gleaming, Far and wide their radiance streaming, Beta’s stars forever blaze.

There, ’mid Kenyon’s ivy twining, Dreaming half, and half divining, Sees he all that lies before— Sees those stars in beauty shining, Sees our hearts with love enshrining Beta Alpha, evermore.

G r o v e D a n i e l C u r t is , Kenyon ’ 80

C O M E B A C K , C O M E B A C K T O G A M B IE R 'e a r B r o t h e r s of the Mystic T ie T

>

W ho wear the Pink and Blue, Old sons of Beta Alpha, This message comes to you: 108

Where’er your footsteps wander On mountain, lake, or shore, Come back, come back to Gambier, And see the boys once more.

Chorus: They’ll meet you, they’ll greet you, T hey’ll treat you like a king, They’ll seat you, they’ll fete you, T o you their songs they’ll sing: T hey’ll chase away your every care, T hey’ll warm your bosom’s core— If you’ll just come back to Gambier, And see the boys once more.

Come back and see those aged oaks, See Kenyon’s storied walls; Come back and hear those chiming bells, When evening softly falls; Come back and be a boy again, Your vanished youth restore; Come back, come back to Gambier, And see the boys once more.

Loved scenes, loved forms, of long ago, You shall once more re-view: Dear friends shall come from spirit land T o walk “ The Path” with you.

Then answer quickly; why delay?

They’re waiting at the door: Come back, come back to Gambier, And see the boys once more.

And when beyond the rolling flood, W e tread the shining shore, And Betas throng around us, The loved ones gone before, W e’ll sing the songs we used to sing, The songs so loved of yore, And we’ll all come back to Gambier, T o see the boys once more.

G ro v e D a n ie l C u r t is , Kenyon ’80

109

H YM N O F ALPH A Mother, hail to thee!

Always let your voices be Raised to magnify thy name, Mother Alpha, great thy fame! lph a ,

Old Miami, honored be!

Cherished to eternity!

Blessed be Beta’s natal place Loved by Wooglin’s mighty race!

Knox, first of the Beta line, Always greatest praises thine!

So may our founders be Honored, loved eternally.

Parent, dear to all our band, Without end thy fame shall stand; Beta hosts invoke thy praise, Beta paeans to thee raise.

L a w r e n c e W a r d e l l S w a n , Miami ’ 07

A L P H A M A R C H IN G SO N G

&

h

,

h e r e ’s

to Knox and Marshall and the “ Boys of thirty-

nine ! ” W ho founded here old Beta and built our sacred shrine.

They picked them out a motto, some symbols and a grip, And bound their hearts together by a tie that would not slip.

They spread the Beta spirit; made it famous far and wide, They made their names immortal; we point to them with pride.

So now let ev’ry Beta give a rousing Phi! Kai! Phi! Alpha, Alpha, Phi! K a i! Phi! and Beta Theta Pi.

And here’s to “ Old Miami,” a sacred spot of earth, Its name and fame are known afar because of Beta’s birth.

Our patron saint “ Old Wooglin” came from out its shady grove T o tell of faith and friendship, of strong fraternal love.

Here first the brothers eight were taught to weave the mystic spell. no

Here in the halls of memory each Beta loves to dwell.

So once again let ev’ry voice join in the Phi! Kai! Phi! Alpha, Alpha, Phi! Kai! Phi! and Beta Theta Pi. Alpha, Alpha, Phi Kai Phi, and Beta Theta Pi, Alpha, Alpha, Phi Kai Phi, and Beta Theta Pi. H e n r y W h i t i n g B r o w n , J r ., Miami ’ 17

L A M B D A C H A P T E R SO N G Beta Theta Pi— our fair fraternity!

Wave the colors brave on high, her champions all are we.

Let all our voices join in song and loud the anthem raise; Let the chorus roll along in glorious Lambda’s praise.

Hail! Brothers, join the chorus strong for Beta Theta Pi; United sing our chapter song in Lambda Phi Kai Phi. e r e ’s to

When our college life is o’er we’ll fondly think of thee— Think of the happy days of yore, and strengthened shall we be.

Fresh from old Lambda’s shrine we’ll turn to face the strife anew; Our altar’s fire raised up on high shall influence all we do.

Hail! Hail to old Wooglin good and true! hail to Phi kai Phi! Hail to old Lambda’s loyal crew! hail to Beta Theta Pi! R o b e r t W i n f i e l d D u n n , Michigan ’ 95

L A M B D A B A N Q U E T SO N G hall shines brightly round, The brows of all with joy are crowned, Then lift the golden goblet high, While brightly beameth ev’ry eye.

Then lift the golden goblet high And pledge to Beta Theta Pi.

y^H E

banquet

Then banish sadness, banish night!

Let all be gladness, all be light!

And speed the hours that quickly fly While mirth and music drown each sigh!

Ill

And speed the hours that quickly fly, W ith songs of Beta Theta P i!

Those Betas fair, the girls so true, T o them our pledges we renew; T o them we raise the goblet high, (W hile brightly beameth every eye) T o them we raise the goblet high— The girls of Beta Theta Pi. Drink, drink, bright flows the red wine!

Drink, drink, pledge to the fair; Banish all care, pledge now in wine; Lambda, our true hearts are thine, are thine.

W i l b e r J a m e s G r e g o r y , Michigan ’86

A SE N IO R F A R E W E L L ^ ^ e llo w s , have you ever once considered ** i How your life is much like clay, That the potter uses wisely Making things that last for aye ?

You can mold it, you can shape it, Into whatsoe’er you will, You can mar it, or defile it, Making something that is ill.

Take your life then, in this spirit, Keeping ever in your mind, It is all within your power T o produce the master’s kind.

Pledges, are you ready, willing, waiting, Eager to receive the torch, That the Seniors give in passing Into hands that it will scorch If you falter in the trust implied By each of those three stars?

Keep their light intact and burning, As Old Wooglin did of yore, Ever watchful of their glory, Ever careful of their life, And yours shall be the greater light, A beacon to mankind.

112

Brothers, Gamma Kappa holds us fast W ith bonds of friendship and love, How rich the heritage from the past O f Beta achievements won in life!

In usefulness and in brotherly love, What chance there is for each, Unselfishly giving the best he has, Unflinchingly facing the test.

And thus shall come a greater gain Than riches grossly won, The satisfaction all may feel Over a worthy task— well done.

G

eorge

F r a n k l i n S t r i c k l i n g , North Dakota ’ 25

O LD RHO

W

gathered here tonight, my boys, Yes, Beta sons are w e; W e’re gathered in the twilight, In love, fidelity; W e sing our songs of Wooglin lores And long with Rho to stay, Singing on the dear old lake shores, In the evening light of day. e ’r e

T h o’ life with Rho may soon be gone, And scattered far we be, W e’ll ne’er forget our Beta songs, Nor yet our loyalty.

T h o’ years may pass and bring their cares, And age may bring decay, For old Rho shall be our prayers, And Wooglin’s name for aye.

Sometime with thoughts a-turning back, Somewhere to years gone by, W e’ll come with hearts a-yearning T o Beta Theta Pi. T o dear old Rho we’ll come once more, W ith banners waving high, T o Northwestern’s dear old lake shore, And Beta Theta Pi. D w i g h t L y m a n C r a y s , Northwestern ’ 22

A T H E T A D E L T A M AN he led a sorry life, sorry life; He had the meanest kind o’ wife, kind o’ wife.

The babies they would always get the croup And they would yell like billy whoop— The babies they would always get the croup And they would yell like billy whoop.

im

D

um ps

A t last, all driven to despair, to despair, Jim Dumps got up and tore his hair, and tore his hair; A t last his wife brought home some Force to him And Force has made him Sunny Jim— A t last his wife brought home some Force to him And Force has made him Sunny Jim. A little frog sat on a well, on a well, And sang with fire in his eye, in his eye Sang he, I am a Theta Delta man, A dear old Beta Theta Pi, Sang he, I am a Theta Delta man A dear old Beta Theta Pi. G e o r g e W e s l e y B e l l o w s , Ohio State ’ 05

(An adaptation of “ Sunny Jim” )

T H E T A FIR E S /

hearts are turning T o the days we’ve spent with thee. ^*~^Theta fires are burning W ith youth and jollity.

Friendship and fidelity, Bonds of our fraternity, Last through all eternity, In Beta Theta Pi. oyal

W i l l i a m A l t e r H a z l e t t , Ohio Wesleyan ’ 32

114

T H E C IR C L E O F PH I we together— the sons of old Phi, Renewing a compact that never shall die. * • Love, loyalty, and truth in the glance of each eye— Hearts linked in the mystic Old Circle of Phi. e r e sta n d

J

The sons of the Dragon stand brother to brother, As old friends, as true friends, look eye into eye— United, undaunted, each pledges the other His love, his trust, and steadfast faith In dear Old Phi. And ’round us is woven another great band— A widening circle, yet linked hand in hand; No distance or time breaks the mystical tie— They still are a part of the Circle of Phi. So as we are meeting we feel they are now Around us, repeating the old Beta vow— Stand firm— is the watchward, and strong the reply— W e are keeping the faith in the Circle of Phi! E dw ard W

W

arlock

M

um fo rd ,

BETA GAM M A

in old New Brunswick Where flows the Raritan, Our dear old Alma Mater, Rutgers College, proudly stands Upholding still her motto, Just as in the distant past: “ Sun of Justice still illumine, Shine for us upon our West; Sun of Justice still illumine, Shine for us upon our W est.”

ay d o w n

Just as in the days of old, When our Beta fathers led, W e have taken up the conflict, Nobly battled in their stead.

W ith the aid of mighty Wooglin, W e will gladly labor on,

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Pennsylvania ’89

And uphold the old traditions Handed down from sire to son; And uphold the old traditions Handed down from sire to son. ’Round the festive board we’ll pledge her W ith our glasses raised on high: “ Health to dear old Beta Gamma, Health to Beta Theta P i!

T o the faith that never falters, T o the Love that cannot die!

Dearer yet beyond all others— Drink to Beta Theta Pi; Dearer yet beyond all others— Drink to Beta Theta P i! ” W

il l ia m

N ash M

a c N e il l ,

Rutgers ’ 08

ALUM NI CALL lend your greeting, A t every chapter meeting, And welcome our dear alumni; ’T is their presence that we cherish, Our love for them we nourish, T he “ Silver Grays” of Beta Theta Pi. h

!

brother

Come, come, come, come ever welcome alumni; Y ou ’re as dear now as ever, So let nothing sever Your friendship from Beta Theta Pi. A t those familiar voices, Dear Beta e’er rejoices, T o hear her praises loud ascend on high; Like Greeks let all assemble, Cause other Greeks to tremble, Save noble sons of Beta Theta Pi. 116

Let brothers then surround That altar, glory crowned, And sing aloud our true fraternal cry; W e’ll form the “ Beta Round” A ring that has no bound, The guarding wall of Beta Theta Pi. Stevens ’ 81 (T o the Alumni of Sigma Chapter)

H enry C ady W

h it e ,

TH ETA ZETA Betas, sing ’round our chapter fire, shout we the same old song, The song that will always our hearts inspire, sing it the whole night long!

Shout for the dragon and the shield of gold! let every heart beat true T o the tread of our marching brothers bold; and shout as only Betas do!

om e,

Oh, shout ye of the Theta Zeta Chapter, let every Beta sing!

W ith voices strong we’re marching along as we form now the mystic ring.

Then shout ye of the Theta Zeta Chapter, send every echo high!

March to the song of twelve thousand strong: W e are brothers in Phi kai Phi! And when our fair college days are o’er remember the same old song; Its memory will stir us as in days of yore, Betas bonds will through life prolong.

Until we sink into death’s dark night may every heart beat true As when by the dear old chapter light we sang as only Betas do.

John L

ow ry

G

ib so n

S t u a r t , Toronto ’ 08

NU CHAPTER grows green on old Union’s walls Clinging close to the sides grey and cold; The brook rumbles merrily over the stones As it rumbled and tumbled of old; These days of pleasure in fullest measure Are always warm to the heart; And from old Beta Theta Pi Our thoughts will ne’er depart. h e iv y

And till old Union shall pass away, The College Brook go dry, W e’ll all hang together for Nu, and forever Love Beta Theta Pi. W ho says that our hearts will grow cold with age, T hat friends will depart with the years, That thoughts dear to youth must soon fade away And leave naught but doubts and fears?

Such friendships as ours can never fail— Upheld by fraternity’s tie.

T o Alma Mater we’ll be true And Beta Theta Pi. And though the years roll swiftly on, Our student days pass by, W e’ll all hang together for Nu, and forever Love Beta Theta Pi. M

ary

L andreth

(Written for the Union Chapter)

GAM M A BETA i

o m e, Gamma Betas, gather round,

1 / Our friendship to renew, W e sing to Beta Theta Pi, And pledge ourselves anew.

Our purpose firm, our aim is clear, Come sing with head raised high, Unto the diamond and the wreath of Beta Theta Pi. 118

Through honest effort, manly pride, Success will be our crown; Our standard ever must be high, Let no man bring it down.

When trials seem to bar the way, O r sorrow dim the eye, W e’ll gather strength for all our needs in Beta Theta Pi. E l ia s A s a h e l S m i t h , Jr., Utah ’ i i

T O TH E SCARLET i n so n g and story thy tale is told By sturdy sons of old Whose three score years and ten have passed, But whose valor shall always last; And their’s the legends we still hold dear And tell anew each year; W e’ll toast those loyal Wabash men; W e’ll drink their health again.

The years have written their loyalty T o Wooglin and to thee, Like the oaks, they’re true in heart and hand; In the forest of men they stand.

As twilight deepens and night draws near W e close our eyes and hear The song whose ling’ring echoes tell O f things we love so well.

In the dear old days of our memory’s gaze, In the springtide of life and health There are visions sweet of a joy complete— ’Tw as the time of our greatest wealth; Now we come once more just to live them o’er, And to pray thou shalt e’er be blest.

W e will drink anew from the Beta brew The toast that we all love best.

C a r r o l l S t u a r t R a g a n , Wabash ’ 01

“ 9

GAM M A TH E TA

T-

is a story old— Eighty times it has been told— O f a chapter’s rise to fraternize W ith the grandest fraternity beneath the skies; So here’s to success for Gamma Theta, W e’ll always do our best for dear old Beta.

Our lives we’ll consecrate T o Beta’s cause so great; W e’ll always honor Pater Knox And all the founders eight.

T o Wooglin we bow down forever, W e ’ll surely prosper ’neath his watchful eye: Since Beta’s come to stay There’s nothing else to say But Beta Theta Pi. here

G

eorge

F r e d e r ic k M

cK ay,

Washington State ’ 22

M U E P S IL O N q Z

r

r e r e a t thy shrine anew we bring our off’rings r lAs f incense sweet before thy altar rising,

Hearts throb with mystic joy, lights now burn with purest flame In dear Mu Epsilon.

While ring thy praises sweet in our communion, A ll meet as one in Beta’s broad dominion.

Beta our song has been, Beta ever shall we love, W e of Mu Epsilon.

Slow wafts the smoke as to the sky it rises Spreading, like breezes, thro’ the quiet moonlight, So Beta hearts are warmed where each brother greets with love In dear Mu Epsilon.

Ralph W

elles

120

K

eeler,

Wesleyan ’ 04

UNDER WESTERN SKIES

0

ut w here

the w estern skies are blue,

And western fields of golden hue, Our alma mater, Whitman dear, T o each Beta’s heart grows near.

W e hear the babbling college brook, And see again each shady nook.

Gamma Zeta’s calling me, Where western hills are blue.

Whitman with its fountains fair, Looms ever in my view.

Beta men are beckoning me By the firelight’s glow; Take me back to chapter days, T hat’s the place where I long to go.

Beneath the flag of Beta’s might, W ith pledge of faith and love of right, Each brother true who bears the name Strives to add to Wooglin’s fame.

And thus on forum, track or field, The sons of Beta never yield.

Far from the din of college days, When we have joined the silver grays, W e fondly turn, in memory’s eye, T o the friends of days gone by.

W e stand again in Beta’s ring, And join with brothers while they sing: J o se p h M a r s h a l l T

e w in k e l ,

Whitman ’ 23

A W H IT M A N T O A S T stone is chiseled And cemented in its place Among the bonded granite blocks Old Wooglin’s throne to raise; Let’s hope that she will fill her place And line up straight and true W ith that fine old flawless corner stone nother

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That gave it strength and view.

Now let’s drink to the new one And the one that fixed its lot.

Here’s a drop to Gamma Zeta — But a cup to Pater Knox.

R ic h a r d M c K a y , Whitman ’ 16

T H E B O Y S O F A L P H A PI ;’s a bully gang of boys at old Wisconsin, -rviways ready for a jolly or a guy, W ho from their high and mighty station Are well known throughout the nation As the lucky, plucky boys of Alpha Pi. Wheresoever there is war upon the tapis; Where brain or pluck or muscle will apply, In the midst of scrap or scrimmage You will see the busy image O f the happy, scrappy boys of Alpha Pi. So tip the cup and tilt the bottom high, Here’s Health! Health! to Alpha Pi. Long may you search this wide world through Before you drink to a braver crew.

So pass the cup with a rousing Beta cheer, A cup of health to every Beta here; Oh, true as the blue of the true blue sky, Here’s how! to the boys of Alpha Pi. If you want a lad to pull an oar to victory, Tackle hard or send the pigskin sailing high, Speak a speech, or steer a boat, or Take a fall from Minnesota, Make a cheerful face to do the deed or die: Choose a man that’s got all peppered through his system T he stuff and sand that money cannot buy; Take a cocky, foxy, heady, Take a rough and tough and ready, Take a snappy, scrappy son of Alpha Pi.

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There were others in the palmy days of old, boys, Whose plaudits now are ringing to the sky, For they bucked and they debated, And they shouted and orated, And they made a mighty name for Alpha Pi. You can bet your bonnet on it they were hustlers, And the star play for us, fellows, is to try T o be mindful of the story And be equal to the glory O f the olden, golden days of Alpha Pi. When the days of milk and honey are no more, boys, And the sere and yellow leaflets whistle dry, In our days of dark December W e ’ll have nothing to remember Like the harum-scarum days in Alpha Pi; And our trembling fingers balancing the bumper W e will raise our last and loving cup on high, And old age with feeble cheers W ill shout and drink in laughing tears, T o the harum-scarum boys of Alpha Pi. J a m e s F r a n c is A

u g u s t in e

P y r e , Wisconsin ’ 92

PH I C H I M A R C H IN G raise thy banners o’er us, See the foe arrayed before us!

Men of Phi Chi, shout the chorus: Beta Theta Pi! Shout until the cry is sounding T o our land’s remotest bounding, And the campus is resounding: Beta Theta Pi! As they halt in wonder, W ith a voice of thunder Raise the cry for old Phi Chi, And hew their ranks asunder!

Wooglin’s banner proudly bearing, W e’ll exult in their despairing, Victory the shout declaring: Beta Theta P i! o o g l in ,

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Hasting on our secret mission, W e, the heirs of high tradition, Reverent bear thy great commission, Beta Theta Pi! Precious things the fathers set sure; Loyal sons filled up the measure; Now ’tis ours to guard the treasure, Beta Theta P i!

Brothers, high exalt her!

Betas, never falter!

Fight this day to bear away Fresh trophies for our altar!

Sturdy youths, and grandsires hoary, Each to each repeat the story, Ever jealous of our glory, Beta Theta Pi! A r t h u r E d w a r d B a k e r , Y a le' 10

D E A R PH I C H I I E m e e t in our hall tonight, boys, our hearts filled with mirth and cheer, And yet with a touch of sadness for the friends no longer here.

But still they are with us in spirit with a love that can never die.

Then here’s to our chapter forever, then here’s to our dear Phi Chi! Oh, bright is the way before us— with “ Friendship” our battle cry— As we strive for our cherished order— for Beta Theta Pi. And Wooglin is with us forever with a love that can never die; Then here’s to our chapter forever, then here’s to our dear Phi Chi! Old Yale! we soon must leave her, but not without many a sigh When we meet no more, my brother, in the halls of dear Phi Chi! But still we’ll be with her in spirit, and our love— it ne’er shall die; For brothers are brothers forever in Beta Theta Pi. F r a n k e S t u a r t H a v e n s , Yale ’ 96

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A N IN V O C A T IO N H Y M N O F M Y S T IC SEVEN I

/

n t h e gathering gloom of the dark still night,

In the hush of the Mystic hour, Mighty Wuotan, smile on the Mystic rite, Vindicate thy secret power.

Oh Wuotan, great Wuotan, H ail! thou unseen sprite, From the seventh heaven, W ith thy chosen seven in thy temple reign to-night.

II In this Mystic hour, in this Elfin Bower, As we gather round the shrine, Let our hearts be knit by thy magic power, As in days of Auld Lang Syne.

III On the horns of the moon, while the pearly dew, Gleams afar through the evening shade, While the spell bell chimes and the owlets coo, Let our mystic vows be made.

IV Let thy thunders blast, let thy lightnings brand, Every base, unfaithful heart, And be palsied the arm, be severed the hand, Ere we from our vows depart.

W

il l ia m

H. P e r r y , Syracuse *62

TH E H APPY DAYS OF O LD A Song of Mystic Seven

0

I

were happy days of old, When all was bright and gay; And oft the pleasing tale is told, Since they have passed away. h , th o se

125

Yes, grateful is their memory As we recall it now, O f the days when Mystics gathered here, A long, long time ago.

II As when the fading God of day, Sinks in the glowing west, Lights up the clouds that nearest lay, And they infuse the rest— So we to Mystics yet to come, Shall pass the radiant glow, And sing of those who gathered here, A long, long time ago.

III And as we all must go, ere long, May those who linger here Still sing for us the joyish song, That we have loved to hear; And tell to those who follow us, W hat all must wish to know, How Mystics loved to gather here, A long, long time ago.

T H E M Y S T IC S T A R F t h e myriad stars in the Heavens

That shine with a splendor so bright, There is none that can rival the radiance O f the Mystical Emblem’s soft light.

W ith its sevenfold points that are sparkling W ith a meaning known but to our band, It reigns o’er the hearts of the Mystics W ith a power none else understand.

It leads on to noble achievements; And him who stands firm for the right It cheers with its sweet, holy splendor, Shedding o’er him a halo of light.

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Whoever will faithfully follow Where the Mystical Star shows the way, His life will be stainless and noble And his conscience as clear as the day.

O f the daughters of night the most radiant, Our Star reigns supreme and alone; The Queen of the night, it is brightest and best And will be when ages have flown.

TH E FAREW ELL A Song of the Mystic Seven

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good brothers, as we give The parting hand again O ! let us pledge our constant faith, In one more joyous strain.

nd now , / f'

For oft in merry days “ lang-syne” W ith happy hearts we’ve met, And far though fortune calls us hence, W e never can forget.

2.

No jarring string disturbs our song, United one in heart, Nor years, with their decaying power, Our friendship e’re can part.

3And oftentimes as tossed upon Life’s storm-swept, turbid seas, W e’ll charm our souls from sorrow’s night, W ith these dear memories.

4The pleasant smile, the hearty laugh, The moments rich with glee, The harmless jest— the sparkling wit Shall ne’er forgotten be.

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5T he names that fill the mystic ring, The faces full of joy, T he hearts that beat responsive strains No time can eâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;er destroy.

6.

As age turns back again to view, Youthâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ever blooming bowers, So hither we will often turn, T o these delicious hours.

7And now with warm and gushing hearts This sentiment be given, Long life and ample cheer, to thee, Thou dear old Mystic Seven.

W ith joyful hearts the chorus join, Long life, long life to thee, Let every bosom quick respond, Am en! So mote it be!

128

Wooglin and His Dog ☆

☆

☆

W O O G L IN A N D T H E D O G you can’t imagine my surprise At being thus invited to arise, And, in the presence of this cultured host, Respond to this Deo-canis-tic toast.

I no more looked for such a call than each O f you when making your first college speech, As, with a look Ah Sin-ic you declared Yourself “ surprised and wholly unprepared” ; And then proceeded from its depths to draw A paper ‘longer than the Moral Law ’— (A document, perhaps you never saw) A melange of quotations, running down From Homer to the X-road poet, Brown, And then you on their luckless pates did pour That avalanche of stale historic lore, Which all had heard a thousand times before, From freshman fresh and softest sophomore; “ Gems” from those “ mines,” so easy to explore, That seniors hesitated to ignore The wealth Encyclopedias had in store!

And so “ they had to take it,” o’er and o’er, T ill Rome of romance not a vestige wore, And Greece, out-hashed like all our hash of yore, Grew void of grease as we re-hashed it more— A drier more exasperating bore, Which pierced them from circumference to core, T ill e’en the more profane among them swore That we who laid on them that torture sore Should expiate that crime in chicken’s gore!

And e’en the mildest mannered raved and tore, And uttered maledictions by the score, And looked with longing eyes toward the door, And longed to sleep— to sleep, perchance to snore And drown in sounds somniferous, our roar!

But vainly did they still their fate deplore, T ill perspiration streamed from every pore— y f r ie n d s ,

129

(Just as it does from him who has the floor! ) — And then, with cadence lower and accents slower, W e ceased our “ chore” and “ hove an oar” for shore! ’Tw as in the ages now grown old and gray That Wooglin first began his potent sway, And W ooglin’s faithful canine had his day.

I make them aged thus, because I ’m told That spirits are more popular when old; T h o’, as I contemplate our bill of fare, And find no list of “ wines and liquors” there, I ’ll fondly hope, for dear old Beta’s sake, M y pun on aged spirits failed to take.

But ancient Greeks, they tell me, had a way O f making gods “ to order,” as we say; And every ancient Greek that graced the land Kept an assortment constantly on hand; Nor hoped his neighbors nor his wife to please Short of a gross of household deities.

But, though the ancient Greeks have nobly done, The modern Greeks excel them two to one W ith Wooglin; and, to tell wherein, and how, Is what the speaker has the floor for, now.

It is not numbers, but ’tis quality, Gives grandeur to our mystic deity.

For Wooglin flies not with the common brood That follow other tracks to pick their food; But, pluming stronger wing for loftier flight, He mounts to higher realms of purer light, And, thither, with majestic pinion becks Those kindred spirits he alone selects!

But, not for rank nor wealth doth he select, Nor beauty— as a stranger might suspect; ( I ’d blush, were the allusion more direct; Besides, I ’m sure Doc. Parvin would object.)

But for these qualities of heart and mind T o which barbarians and their gods are blind— In brief, the lofty realm where Wooglin reigns, Is that of vim, and fellowship and brains.

130

And these, his subjects, own his regal sway; Though naught of “ idol worshippers” are they, They’re not one whit with superstition blind, But Beta Theta Pi-ously inclined!

A truce to pungent paragraphs; ’tis mine T o speak of Wooglin, and his friend Canine, And other items in the Wooglin line; O f legends that were known to days agone, When we were “ Bob” and “ Dave,” and “ T om ” and “ John.”

O f days these younger Greeks count “ long ago.”

T o Youth the boatman’s strokes are weak and slow, T o Age he plies a heavier, swifter oar The nearer we approach the eternal shore.

Pardon my Pegasus. In olden time She used to course the realm of the Sublime; And now and then she disobeys the line, And shies at Wooglin, and the said canine; So they must blame the “ critter” if I fail T o paint their moral, or adorn their tale.

Now, while old Wooglin, with majestic mien, And lofty dignity, maintains his reign, A faithful dog, the legend doth relate, Keeps strictest ward without this mystic gate.

He too, enjoys an ancient pedigree; How ancient, you can never learn from me.

Suffice it, that he lived as long ago As he whom scholars now call “ Kickero,” O r great Demosthenes; and I might show, If I had time to prove the matter up, One or the other raised him from a pup.

And ’tis this “ early training” that explains His judgment rare of eloquence and brains, Whereby he still his honored post maintains, And guards to-night old Wooglin’s vast domains!

But ’tis not true, as vile barbarians tell, That these great worthies sought their “ dorg” to sell.

They passed him down, by regular bequest,

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T o eloquent Mark Anthony, and the rest W ho’ve graced the seats of eloquence and power, In every tongue, and every place and hour.

That false report grew from a passing joke O f Anthony’s, one day when Caesar spoke Before the Senate, and got scared, and “ broke,” Which did his friend Mark Anthony provoke A t Caesar just a little fun to poke; Hence he inquired— the metaphor to cloak, And still his “ limping” eloquence to jog— “ Ho ‘Kaiser! ’ Don’t you want to buy a dog! ” Strange that ‘Oi Barbaroi our legends take, O f modern songs, their choruses to make!

But I should not to history be true Should I attempt to keep the truth from view, That sometimes in our early college days, That dog of Wooglin’s had his frisky ways.

Then, some now eminent in Church and State, W ere not for grace pre-eminently great!

Theirs was a piety that oft gave rise T o fruitless inquiries for missing pies!

Theirs was a thirst for science, that, they say, Searched in the cellars for the milky way, They delved for roots in Calculus and Greek— And in their neighbors’ gardens— so to speak— They plucked the garlands fair Olympus yields, And “ roasting ears” from circumjacent fields, And oft their cravings for forbidden food Begot a water-melon-choly mood.

They gathered fruits that on Parnassus grew, And several dozen other places, too.

They climbed the lofty, dizzy heights of Fame, And heights where hung the bell, to ring the same.

In “ Academic groves” they, eager, searched, And other groves where tender poultry perched.

They scaled the lofty pinnacles of thought, And likewise scaled that fish, on Sunday caught.

And some won honors by the mid-night oil, And others, oysters, by the tricks of Hoyle!

But such were the exceptions— not the rule— W ith Wooglin’s subjects, while they were at school.

And I may add this personal remark 132

That, though he knew these ways accounted dark, Yet, e’en your speaker now before you stands Without the blood of chickens on his hands, (O f course, for reasons obvious, I may Except the “ yellow leg” -itimate w ay).

For Wooglin’s dog was wondrous keen of smell, And Wooglin’s eye was watching just as well; And Wooglin gave his votaries the power T o get the honey, yet not harm the flower!

And Delta’s boys ne’er wronged a living soul, Though Stone and I that “ Paddy Engine” stole For observation and the adage holds, That “ corporations haven’t any souls,” And, if they had, this fact would still remain, When daylight came they found their “ rig” again.

And Stone could tell you how they also found The print of his frail body on the ground.

For, notwithstanding many years have passed, Even on Stone these “ first impressions” last.

I pause, lest this impression may prevail, This dog displays redundancy of tale!

I ’ll close with the remark that, studied well, Wooglin’s queer “ ways” these limping measures tell, That, what is here ground out, when sifted fine, Reveals the story of that same canine.

But none expect me, in a public speech, T o tell you the “ true inwardness” of each; For, though they’re oft concealed by lovely flowers, T o grapple with their mysteries is ours.

Behold that youthful canine! Note his smile!

How free his countenance from trace of guile!

And still that floral symbol which you see, Contains for us a wealth of “ mystery.”

T o solve this mystery, I do not think; But Darwin-like, I ’ll seek a “ missing link.”

[A t this stage o f the proceedings the orator stepped forw ard , and, in the presence o f a ll, co olly removed the head o f the dog, and drew therefrom , imo fectore, the missing link, which, like the Grecian w arrior his freshly-won spoils, he held a lo ft to the adm iring gaze o f the assembled youth.]

Alas! for all attempts of human skill, For what I find is more mysterious still!

And, while we gaze with eager, longing eyes,

133

W hat vague, suggestive inquiries arise!

W hat canine mother waits and howls in vain For offspring she shall ne’er caress again!

W hat feline “ voices in the night” we miss When we evolve a “ mystery” like this!

E ’en while I speak our “ inmost depths” are stirred.

So we dismiss the theme, nor add a word, But keeping still our mystic rites in view, W e ’ll each a helpful, sunny life pursue, And nothing mean, or vile, or wrong partake, For God, and man, and dear old Wooglin’s sake!

J o h n H o g a r t h L o z ie r , DePauw ’57

T H E L E G E N D O F W O O G L IN LRE is a legend of the days long past

When those now gone unto their last long rest Stood where we now are standing, with their feet Just pressing on the way of life, which, vast And long, stretched out toward the glowing west Where life’s delights with heaven’s raptures meet.

O ft is the tale told in the pure light cast

By Beta stars, or Beta’s precious gem, That one bright stone, that priceless diadem, That gleams with passing luster. Then, when pressed, Some older member of the brotherhood, Stirred up into a reminiscent mood, May tell the legend which I now repeat, O f our first chapter, and how unto them Great Wooglin came, and to them patron stood.

They met, those first of Betas, ’neath an oak In a grim forest, and they found a bond Stronger than love, in their fraternal tie; A secret bond, unknown to other folk, Which held them in a friendship that, beyond The sunset, still unites them in the sky T o them on earth. As once these met, and spoke O f friendship, from the shadow of the tree A deep voice sounded, and they turned, to see An old man, that a huge black volume conned,

134

Intoning, in a voice now high, now low, His reading. They drew near. But he, as though He knew their coming, held his hand on high And closed his book, and spoke: “ Come not to me T ill I have told my history of woe. “ Once I was young— ye might not dream it now— And I was happy, and my fond heart throbbed W ith great ambitions. Then my dearest friend, O r so he styled himself, betrayed me. How Such falseness may be, I know not. I sobbed A t first, that all my joy had such an end; And then, in bitter grief, I vowed a vow Never to look again upon man’s face.

So I sought out this far-off, lonely place, And I have lived here, since my soul was robbed O f faith in man. But in these later years Through my much reading of the mighty seers O f other ages, I have learned to lend A kindlier spirit to my woeful case;— That old fate far less bitter now appears. “ But I have watched ye oft, and it would seem That in your friendship is a bond of truth Which I have sought in vain. And I would ask That ye fulfil for me my early dream— Admit me to your number. Though my youth Be past, my spirit hath not found the mask O f age as hath my face and form. Yea, and I deem That I might teach ye of what I have found O f secret lore and mysteries profound In my long study of the words of sooth O f ancient masters. Though I be not young, M y heart is young.” Thus with a wily tongue The old man spoke, and it had been a task T o say him nay, a spell so deep around Their listening souls his silver speech had flung.

So they admitted him unto their band, And unto many secret gatherings Under the shadow of the silent night He called them, and he taught them lessons grand O f truth, and faith, and other mighty things

135

Which men should heed. And he taught them aright T o read the stars, and how with woven hand T o symbolize their bond; and a white stone Which flamed with its own luminence alone He made the sign which such deep meaning brings T o Beta hearts. So for a certain time He taught them, and they loved him, as the prime And greatest of all seers. But one sad night They came, and found him lying still and prone: But ah, his face with glory was sublime!

Then as they gathered round him, weeping sore, One spied within his hand a parchment roll, Bound with twin ribands of pale harmony.

They opened, and they read the word it bore;— This was the message written on the scroll. “ As when an arrow leaps from mystery Across a lighted place, and then, before It is well seen, in darkness vanishes— So is our life. That brief time furnishes No satisfaction to the thoughtful soul.

Life is an arrow-flight, but an infinite And mighty vista, down which arrows flit, The soul’s determined path— Eternity.

Keep pure the emblems of your faithfulness And in due time ye shall attain to it. “ I die not; for my life I leave to you And those who shall succeed unto your name.

For they shall be a multitude, like erass In number, yet of all men but a few.

Unto these, then, ye shall hand down your fame; That, as into the mystery ye pass, There shall be left of Betas good and true T o keep our fires of friendship burning high.

And from my station in the heavens, I W ill watch and guide them.” In the fitful flame O f a great torch they read it. When ’twas read They turned to look again upon their dead— And lo, a miracle had come to pass!

He was not there; but in the northern sky A new star blazing showed his place instead.

So now, the legend says, from that bright star Wooglin looks down upon our lives below, 136

And when our lives are pleasing in his sight He smiles upon us from the heavens afar His white star gleaming with a richer glow; But when we please him not, that shining light Fades from his face, and lines of sorrow mar His glory. So we make to him this prayer:— “ Thou radiant spirit of the voiceless air, Give unto us of all that thou dost know Some little part. This prayer we pray to thee, O father Wooglin, clothed in sanctity!

Grant to surround and guard us with thy might; That we may well our mystic symbols bear And keep our souls from shame and error free! ” R o b e r t F r a n c is A

llen ,

Boston ’ 05

W O O G L I N ’S S O U L 7 ^ / h e s o u l of old Wooglin is sterling and steady, JL In faith to encounter what fortunes befall; For tasks yet untried, in him stand we ready, His courage of life girds its strength round us all.

H a r o l d J a m e s B a i l y , Amherst ’ 08

A R E A L L T H E B E T A S IN? A Song to Wooglin

I

h e d a r k n e s s falls, the wind is high,

Dense black clouds fill the western sky; The storm will soon begin. “ The thunders roar, the lightnings flash,” I hear the great, round rain drops dash,— Are all thy Betas in?

W e’re coming softly to thy side; Our forms within thy arms we hide,— No other arms are sure.

The storm may rage with fury wild, With trusting faith each Beta child W ith Wooglin feels secure.

137

But future days are drawing near,— W e’ll go from our dear Chapter here, Into the world’s wild din.

The rain will fall, the cold winds blow, But thou wilt wait and long to know, Are all thy Betas in?

W ill they have shelters then secure, Where hearts are waiting, strong and sure, And love is true when tried?

O r will they find a broken reed, When strength of heart they so much need, T o help them brave the tide ?

W e know that Wooglin’s will is best; W e’ll struggle on, and leave the rest In his most gracious hand.

Sometimes those whom he loves are riven By tempests wild, and thus are driven Nearer the better land.

And if he calls me home before M y brothers go, on that blest shore, Afar from care and sin, I know that with him I shall wait, T ill He, the Keeper of the Gate, Lets all the Betas in.

C. O . D : A B e t a B a r d of 1875 W O O G L I N ’S M ESSAG E sends, through Beta’s organ, Happy New Year to his boys, W ho, though absent from Convention, Still in spirit shared its joys; For a mystic power doth bind us In its sweet and strong embrace, E ’en our golden band of friendship, Woven in such perfect grace.

A h ! no clime, nor stretch of ocean Can its clinging fibres break; Wheresoe’er a brothers’ meeting,

o o g l in

138

There shall Love’s sweet presence wait.

Ever may that tie grow stronger Beta hearts to hold in thrall, Which was by our Grecian fathers First entwined in Oxford Hall.

Yes, they wove a magic triplet, Full of sense and beauty too, Which to guard and love and cherish, Ever claims a chosen few.

Few indeed, but far surpassing, Both in numbers, strength, and power, All the hopes our founders cherished In our Order’s natal hour.

Not alone the smile of fortune Has secured this happy fate, But intrinsic worth that conquers Even time and adverse fate.

Hail your glorious Order, “ Beta” !

Long and prosperous may she stand, Proudest band of Greeks fraternal In your own beloved land!

Yes, indeed, with pride’s full measure “ Wooglin” sees on every hand Noble sons who claim allegiance In the ranks of Beta stand.

Some proclaim the joyful message, Mercy yet for man in store; Others seek in paths of science Untried regions to explore; Some the law has claimed to labor, And has honored with high place, And the lists of art and letters Many names of “ Beta” grace.

Soon must you in College Chapters Take the sword and shield and spear, And in Life’s grand gladiatorial Urge your way ’mid hope and fear.

Need you fear? No! no! my warriors!

For methinks in “ Beta’s” charm You will gather soon around you Strength to guard from theatening harm.

139

“ Theta,” too, will shed her lustre, Bright from out our Temple’s seat, And by scattering foes that cluster, Quick preserve you from defeat. “ P i?” Ah, yes! when trouble gathers W ell we know thy mystic worth, Last and best within our motto, Rarest trait we find on earth.

Glorious motto! loved and cherished By the boys that wear thy name, Brighter glow thy wreath of beauty, Fairer, wider spread thy fame.

Thirty-three fair golden summers Have upon our Order shone, During which our Chapter numbers Have but large and larger grown; Now we reach the sunny Southland, “ Old Dominion,” Western slope: A ll our prospects for the future Can excite but highest hope.

Chapters that “ I ” thought extinguished Have again renewed their life, And in fields before untrodden “ Betas” first begin their strife.

You are now of Western Orders First and foremost in the fight, And for aye will hold your station, If you walk in Beta’s light.

Sa m u e l N e w t o n W

il s o n ,

Hanover ’ 72

CH ALLENGE m a m t h e voice of Wooglin out of the years long flown Spilling my hopes and wishes to hearts that I hold my own, Spawned of a Dragon’s teeth when the mighty seed was sown: Sons, you are sprayed from stars to the east and the south and the west 140

Each with a wreath on his forehead, each with a light in his breast, Resolute, stark, relentless, crown’d with the Dragon’s crest.

Sons, you are swift and fearless, strong as the sea is strong, Eager, and stripped for battle, grim when the trail is long, Seeing the gold from the alloy in the mazes of right and wrong; Y et gentle as dew in the even when lips that you love are near, Kind as the rain in springtime, soft as a sweetheart’s tear, Knowing the love of a woman is dearer than life is dear. *

*

*

Some of the brood are fighters, some are the hunters of game; Walking the ways of silence, treading the halls of fame, Builders, benders, breakers, clean in the diamond flame; And some of my sons are dreamers, poets of dust and rain, Singers of songs of youth, spenders of golden grain— And these breathe the air of rapture and drink of the cup of pain; And some are the misfits, the failures, the doers of wrong, and the fools: Them has the world renounced, and turned from its stiffaisled schools; Y et proud am I of the spirit that lives by its self-made rules!

Jealous my heart of the soul who follows the running years Where the steps of others are timid, beleaguered by pallid fears, W ho throws to the hills his laughter with the rest of the world in tears! *

*

*

And you who ken of the Letters, the speech of the silent stars, 141

Guard well the dreams you cherish, shun but the deed that mars, For loathe I the one who has fallen showing of shameful scars!

Hearts that have tasted the Cup, think at the dawn of night O f a treasure held in your minds, a Gem that is endless light, Know in the darkest darkness that Beta stars are bright.

I am the voice of Wooglin: I did the harvest reap; O full-arm’d men and stalwart, a thousand gifts I heap, A World for each to vanquish, a Faith for each to keep!

A r c h ib a l d Y

ule

J a m e s o n , Minnesota ’ 24

O L ’ M A N W O O G L IN all work till they’re tired and weary Freshmen all work while de Sophomores play Cleanin’ de house till it shines like sunrise Gittin’ no rest till de judgment day— Don’t look up and don’t look down, You don’t dast make de Senior frown Bend your knees an’ bow yo’ head Y o ’ goin’ to git the paddle until yo’re red— Freshman he say he’ll be good and ready Freshman he say he’ll git on de job— All dat he wants is to jine de Betas Wants to get away from de howlin’ mob.

resh m en

Chorus: O l’ man Wooglin— dat ol’ man Wooglin— He must know sump-in’, but don’t say nothin’— He just keeps ’ooglin’, He keeps on ’ooglin along He don’t like Fi Delts, he don’t like Zetas But all he likes is the darn fine Betas And ol’ man Wooglin he jes’ keeps smilin’ along— You and me we sweat and strain Study and work-ing it gives us pain Hit dat book— grub and grind The paddle is a waitin’ if you git behind— 142

I am willin’, and keep on tryin’, I ’ll keep on going, till I am dying If ol’ man Wooglin, he jes’ keeps smilin’ along.

M

orris

R ogers E b e r s o l e , Cincinnati ’ 98

W O O G L I N ’S O D E N o o g l i n raise the chorus, ui others make the echoes ring!

O Wooglin— great and glorious!

Come among us while we sing.

Rah, rah, rah, rah, Wooglin!

Rah, rah, rah, rah, Wooglin!

Rah, rah, rah, rah, Wooglin, O f Beta Theta P i!

A cup to Wooglin hoary, Drink it to our glorious band, And tell the rousing story None but Betas understand.

R obert W

in f ie l d

D

unn,

Michigan ’ 95

FIR ES O F T R U E F R IE N D SH IP together, ye most noble Greeks, While dear old Wooglin, our oracle speaks, O f honor and loyalty treasured of yore, Which bind us as Betas, steadfast evermore.

ather

O Beta, dear Beta, you ever shall be Enshrined and revered in our fond memory; ’Round fires of true friendship we meet once again, T o forge the strong links of fraternity’s chain.

Soft o’er our circle the diamond’s bright rays Shed their pure light as we sing Beta’s praise; Love’s glow from the altar reflects in each heart, T o cheer and uphold us when brothers must part.

F o r r e s t L in d s a y S o w e r , Idaho ’ 11

A LEGEND OF THE DORG c

travelers

once, o’ertak en by n ig h t,

Aweary with wandering, with danger afright, Descried through the darkness a glimmer of light, And their weary steps thither directed.

O ’er branches they plodded, o’er leaves brown and sere, In the forest, ’mongst shadows so somber and drear, Pressed on, till they saw through the darkness loom near A dwelling, of tree trunks erected.

From the cabin’s poor window the light feebly shone, By which, in the darkness, the wanderers had known In this wilderness gloomy they roamed not alone.

A t the door of this sad habitation Stood the hermit who dwelt in the desolate place.

Age, sorrow and care had there plainly left trace, For worn was the figure and furrowed the face O f this outcast from civilization.

He welcomed the travelers with courteous mien, Though many and long had the weary years been Since trace of mankind had the solitude seen, And but cheerless and drear was the place.

They entered, and noticed, on gazing around, Naught but barest necessities. Y et here they found The hermit’s true comrade, a powerful hound, Possessed of both sinew and grace.

His guests at their comfort, with kindliness true, T o the end of the cabin the hermit withdrew, T o prepare the fatigued ones, as well as he knew, Some food for their evening’s refreshment.

The hound slowly rose from his place on the floor And followed his master’s retreat through the door.

The wanderers more carefully scanned the room o’er, With surprise and growing amazement.

For, although in each detail was poverty shown, Here were obvious signs it dwelt not alone; For some volumes and manuscripts carelessly thrown In a corner, their fixed gaze discerning, 144

Denoted the dwelling of one who held dear The pleasure of culture and learning; and, drear Though the forest, and lonely, for many a year Lived content, without thought of returning.

The hermit, ere long returning anew T o his guests, placed before them a savor}* stew.

They attacked it with zest that is granted to few, And ate with the hunger one knows After wandering long o’er mountain and glen, W ith direction bewildered and far from man’s ken; Ate with enjoyment, nor questioned. And then In sleep sought their needed repose.

All too rapidly sped, for the travelers worn, The night. While the roseate dawn of the morn Saw the hermit arranging his cabin forlorn, T o brighten the meager display, They despatched the remains of the evening’s repast, Inquired for the hound, which had, the night past, Disappeared. The reply struck them wholly aghast. “ His flesh was your food yesterday.”

The wanderers grew silent. W ith wonder their eyes Began to dilate, and with wildest surprise, The hermit but smiled at their scarce repressed cries, Passed out of the cabin once more.

Reentering the room, he a bundle of hide Outspread wide on the floor, and with care ranged inside The bones of the hound, cleaned, polished and dried.

Forthwith up rose the dog as before.

The strangers prepared to depart on their wav, By the hermit directed, lest anew they should stray.

They questioned anent the strange scene of the dav.

He answered, “ Just as in days of old The heroes of Asgard ate flesh of the boar, And devoured the goat of the thunderer Thor, Which, killed on each day, returned whole as before, I subsist on my hunting dog bold.”

These events came to pass manv long years ago; Yet the same hermit, Wooglin, I happen to know, Has followers now, where’er one may go; His example to follow thev try.

145

And to-day from Atlantic to Pacific strand The cry of the “ Dorg” resounds through the land, Being killed and devoured by the brotherly band O f Beta, and Theta, and Pi. C l y d e B o w m a n F u r s t , Dickinson ’ 93

“TH E DORG” f

^ t h e tw ilig h t of the poets, wise m en tell us w e are living, And the age of song is sinking in materialistic fog; But I hope the age we live in may not spurn me, unforgiving, If I dogmatize in doggerel, just to help digest the “ dog.”

When we lived upon a diet of those tough old roots quadratic, And with a dish of Grecian stem our peptics tried to gorge, How prodigiously emphatic, how delightfully ecstatic, Were our few-and-far-between meals of good Beta Theta dorg!

W e have drank the wine of wisdom from the college wine­ press bruised, When the tutors and professors turned the everlasting mill; Though the stream flowed on pellucid, yet the taste thereof was deuced, But we bravely choked and swallowed as a sick man gulps a pill.

Still the phantoms of those studies stand before us in their starkness (Gilden in transfigured beauty by time’s glorifying f°g)> When we stumbled through the darkness of Herodotus and Harkness, And ate the husks of grammar while we ever yearned for “ dorg.”

And, therefore, let us deem it not a mere perfunctory plati­ tude T o glorify the noble “ dorg” through all the climes and zones,

And let us hang with gratitude on all the lines of latitude The well-gnawed relics of our feasts— our canine’s fleshless bones.

For it is best where none molest to eat in peace and quiet, Nor our inner void and vacuum indefinitely deny This appetizing diet, making no dyspeptic riot, This delicate, delicious “ dorg” — our Beta Theta Pie. So, in thankfulness of spirit, we have eaten this collation, Until, in full satiety, our appetite is curbed; W e have gorged our long starvation, and the “ dorg” has saved the nation, And nature’s equilibrium remaineth undisturbed.

For, whoso eats this sacred flesh ne’er drops in the abysm O f indifferent forgetfulness, while all the years go by; And his blood, in friendship’s chrism, bathes us in a glad baptism, And binds us loyal to the name of Beta Theta Pi. Sa m W

alter

F oss, Brown ’ 82

C A R V E D A T C A N IN E |

W

o o g l in

had a bob-tailed dog,

Carve him to de heart!

He kept him fat as any hog, Carve him to de heart!

Carve dat canine, carve dat canine, Betas!

Carve dat canine, carve him to de heart!

Barbarians came one dark, black night; They thought they’d steal old Wooglin’s light; But three stars shined and lit the ground; The diamond threw its light around; You bet, old Wooglin was not asleep; He sicked his dog on those poor sheep, He scared them bad so that they ran; The wreath it caught them every man; J o h n I c h a b o d C o v in g t o n , Miami ’ 70

147

THE LAND OF CANINE Land of Canaan is the Land of Canine T o ev’ry Beta son!

Now don’t you think it would be funny T o have our milk and honey Without a piece of luscious canine? he

’Cause the Land of Canaan is the Land of Canine T o ev’ry dorg-gone Beta son!

Now ev’ry other man may like his pork-chops or fowl, But a Beta wants a piece of meat that once let out a growl.

So when I die, Don’t let my body lie, But take me to that promised Canine Land!

K

enneth

W

h it n e y

R o g e r s , Syracuse ’ 17

T H E M ID N IG H T IN T R U D E R ! said the round faced dial, That hung on my study wall.

Tw elve! rung from the grim old belfry On smoke-wreathed City Hall.

w elve

’Tw as the deep, lone hour of midnight, Deep, still as the hush of death, And the gas-lit, slumbering city Breathed sleep’s unconscious breath.

No sound disturbed the ticking O f the old clock on the wall; No hum-drum greeted the bell-notes That trembled from City Hall.

M y head fell slowly forward; M y eyes closed up for a nap; When suddenly rung through my chamber, A rat-ta-ta tap, tap, tap!

Fitfully up from my slumber, I sauntered across to the door, Flung back the bolt from the socket And opened— ye gods of yore!

148

There stood the gray-haired Wooglin, Smiling from ear to ear, W ith his little round pussy belly W ell stocked, no doubt, with— cheese.

I gave him the grip and a “ howdy,” And then, sotto voice, I said: “ You’re welcome, old man, to my sanctum, Come in with your frosty head! ” But he turned his face to the darkness And looked down the dark stairway, And the strange old patriarch whistled, Tw ice, thrice, in the whippoor-will way.

Then rapidly up the stairway Came the patter and rattle of claws; And I heard in the dark, deep stillness, The champ, champ, clapping of jaws.

I grasped his hand still tighter, I shuddered and then grew pale “ ’T is only my purp,” said Wooglin, “ The purp with the little bob-tail.”

Yes, there was the little boss canine, His eye undimmed with years; And he sported and frisked his bob-tail And cocked up his stumpy wee ears.

Then he twisted himself in a circle And fell down dead on the floor! “ Now there’s your bologna,” said Wooglin, “ The old bologna of yore.” “ A h ! peace to his ashes!” I murmured, “ His life, which was minus a stain, W ill rise in the shape of fresh sausage T o gladden our spirits again.

The old bologna, bologna, The old bologna again; Oh, how these creature comforts Make happy the souls of men.”

149

W e placed his remains on my table, And severed them, fore and aft, And then, at this sumptuous altar, W e bolted the purp and laughed.

And oh— I ask your forgiveness— But we had the dog-ondest time, That ever a saint and sinner Enjoyed in this carnal clime.

The old saint (I was the sinner), Threw himself back in the chair, And vowed that no Barb, or Plebian Had ever purp like this here.

Then he clasped his little round belly And tossed his gray beard in the air, And if ever he laughed in his life-time, I pledge you my word it was there. “ T o the shades with Plebians,” said Wooglin, “ Down, down with the Barb, in the dust!

For Betadom’s star to its zenith Is rising— it can and it must!

Yes, it must! ” — hush-sh, what is that clamor, That shrieks through the long hall-way? ’T is the cook’s voice: “ Breakfast is ready!

Are you going to sleep all day? “ A P u l p i t G r e e k ” of 1876

W O O G L IN A N D HIS D O R G on Ohio, “ our emblems,” the frat, The ladies, the journal, the badge, and all that; W e listen with rapture and joyous surprise, T o toasts and responses both witty and wise; But higher than all is the theme that I toast, Causing “ barbs” all to wonder and Betas to boast— More inspiring than coffee, hard cider, or grog, T o the name of old Wooglin and Bulger his dog.

E

dote

150

Old Wooglin and Bulger, the god and canine, A partnership formed, in the year thirty-nine, For business at Oxford, that classic old spot W hich true, loyal Betas have never forgot.

O ld Wooglin, enshrouded in long, hoary locks, Appointed as agent one John Reily Knox, W ho, burning with ardor, went forth all agog, T o canvass for W ooglin and Bulger his dog. *01 (iap@apoi flourished in those ancient days, Ere W ooglin’s effulgence had lighted their ways; T h e world teemed with “ barbs,” who groped in the dark T ill far in the distance they heard Bulger’s bark; Then quick to this music their hearts gave response, Beating loud in their bosoms, with joy, for the nonce, And straight came they forth, scorning brake, fern and bog, T ow ard W ooglin the master and Bulger his dog.

Like Samson, the ancient, John Reily he came A tower of vast strength in W ooglin ’s great name, A n d naught feared this hero that ill would betide For ever was Bulger the bold by his side.

T h e “ diamond,” which shone as a star in the night, Illumined his pathway with genial light, W h ile, monk-like, he rescued the “ barbs” from the fog, T o worship old W ooglin and Bulger his dog.

So, true to the service of W ooglin inclined, T h e ir “ moss” -covered garments the “ barbs” left behind, Inspired w ith the courage, in heart and in hand, (O n ce tasting the fruit of the bright “ promised land” ) T o do valiant service, by day and by night, A n d crow n their devotion w ith deeds for the right, P erm itting no dangers their fervor to clog,

In battling for W ooglin and Bulger his dog.

As wavelets, awakened by pebbles, expand T ill, ever increasing, they play on the strand, So the small “ mystic circle” increased day by day, T ill state after state acknowledged its sway; A nd men came, enchanted with W ooglin’s domain, T o feast on the victims for W ooglin new slain, Rich viands, bologna, a “ drap” of egg-nog— T h e menu of W ooglin and Bulger his dog.

151

Now, Wooglin’s successes full many relate From the forests of Maine to the far Golden Gate; The boys and the gray-beards together rejoice, On hearing the music of Bulger’s clear voice.

Beta Lambda, the youngest, and Alpha, first-born, W ith the many between, our country adorn W ith men high and noble whom nothing can cog From serving old Wooglin and Bulger his dog.

A beautiful temple, ere long, we shall see Where Greeks from the throng of “ unwashed” shall be free.

On fair Lake Chautauqua this temple shall stand, Where Betas shall gather from out the broad land.

There Wooglin shall dwell and all Beta “ boys,” The old and the young, commingle their joys.

There, too, shall sit Bulger near by on a log, This partner of Wooglin— old Bulger the dog.

F r a n c is B a l l P e a r so n , Wooster ’ 85

THE DORG t N d e s c r ib in g the events of this meeting serene The Recorder brought out his old poetry machine.

But the melody of the verse enveloped in fog For the machine had no word that all rhymed with dorg. “ So the Recorder consulted his own bump of planning And improved on the rhyming if not on the scanning; For, inserting an r, and of hog making horg, Many words could be coined that would then rhyme with dorg. “ The cakes and pies and the lemonade sweet Which abounded so plenteous were hard to beat.

But, can we forget while on life’s path we jorg The all-soothing virtues which we found in the dorg? “ The Betas all feasted to satiety’s bounds Then rested, and turned, and took it by rounds, But nothing was found in the shape of good grorg That at all would surpass the institution of dorg.”

A

B e ta B ard a t W abash, 152

Long Ago

CERBERUS perhaps, it may seem passing strange That law and minstrelsy should go together, Much like unwonted union of foul storms With summer days of bright, sunshiny weather; But still ’tis so, and Coke the maxim made, Whose prime authority none e’er refuses, Each legal limb should spend at least nine hours Each day in company of the nine muses.

The reason may not be so far to seek, Since sweetest harmony from discord rises, And discords law together firmly binds Producing harmony that each one prizes.

And mighty Orpheus, who with skillful hand Struck moving chords upon his golden lyre, Becomes the modern lawyer’s fitting type, T o which each earnest student should aspire.

The mighty magic of those chords did move The senseless stocks and stones and trees to follow; But with his brazen instrument to-day The modern lawyer beats old Orpheus hollow, For he, we know, has a most moving way With stocks and other like securities, And what the vulgar designate “ the rocks” Does somehow manage to procure as his.

And from those early days descends the name, Applied by every low, base-born decrier T o rob the lawyer of his hard-earned fame, The shameful epithet— an Orphic liar. o

so m e ,

But not the lawyer’s woes came I to sing, No, not for this strike I the tuneful lyre; A theme more moving, grander far, I bring— The dog whose triple-nose has smelt of fire, The faithful dog, who kept his sleepless watch At the dark entrance of the world called nether, And always at his post was faithful found Despite the ages of dark stormy weather, Save only once, when Orpheus softly came And breathed the sweetest soul subduing measures, In gentle sleep was Cerberus enwrapt, Forgetful of old Pluto’s gathered treasures,

153

And shall we blame him more than when the judge His bald and awful head in sleep reposes, Lulled by the music of the advocate Whose fragrant breath smells not of new-blown roses!

Then Hercules, the first great Jack of Clubs, O f modern clubs, it is presumed, the founder, W ho on the fierce Nemean lion proved His right to title of a first-class pounder, Essayed to bring grim Cerberus above, By feats of strength assent from Pluto winning, And seized the dog in his all-powerful arms In spite of open mouth and sharp teeth grinning.

He drags him to the open glare of day, But finding him less welcome than his shade is, He gladly drops the fiercely struggling dog, Exclaiming, not profanely, “ Go to Hades! ” Then Wooglin took a hand in this great game, Not clubs he held but all the trumps and aces, And dauntless seized the yet unconquered dog, In spite of snarls and howls and fierce grimaces, And quickly dragged him to the upper light, The dog at last the battle giving over, Where since, like other well-cared-for canines, He lives content the whole year round in clover.

W hat Orpheus with sweet music’s potent aid What Hercules, the mighty, failed in doing, Our own great Wooglin, the grey-bearded sage, Has fully done, with ease the task pursuing, And yearly bids the Greeks to sacrifice, And offering make, to his encircling glory, When Orpheus, Hercules, and all the gods W ho dwell upon Olympus old and hoary, May lay their wreaths upon his glowing shrine And with their younger brothers make right merry, And wake the slumbering heart with gladsome song, T ill Charon row us all across his ferry. ’Tw as thus that Cerberus became the slave O f Wooglin, patron saint of us poor sinners, W ho love the brotherhood with love unfeigned, And never prove averse to first-rate dinners.

And should the rabble of barbarians,

154

W ho are so ignorant of what his grade is, Think Cerberus a hell-hound, like themselves, Because he guarded once the gates of Hades, And say they smell the brimestone even yet, And raise discordant shouts instead of praises, ’Tw ere best to tell them that his duty was T o keep folks out, not get them into blazes, And still remains a watchful guardian, And thus prevents our brothers feet from straying, For Heaven seems nearer to our loving hearts While round the festive board with joy delaying, While hand in hand in true fraternal clasp, While heart to heart in perfect love is clinging, W e feel a knightly valor to resist, And in our souls a heaven-born virtue springing.

Then praise to Wooglin, praise to Cerberus And praise to Beta Theta Pi, my brothers, W e’ll reap the harvest of life’s purest joys, Whate’er relentless fate may bring to others.

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

T H E L IN K S T H A T B IN D US I f i t / h y a r e you silent and sad, boys?

W hy are you cheerless and blue ?

Before us the banquet is spread, boys, O f Wooglin the good and the true— W e sit at the table of Wooglin— Wooglin the trusty* and tr u e ; And here at the table of Wooglin, Friendship and faith we renew.

Wooglin, O mystical Wooglin, Smile on us now as of yore, Smile on us— smile on us, Wooglin,— Brighten our banquet once more.

II Now for the clinking of glasses, Now for the clatter of knives,—

J55

Drink to the rosiest lassies, Sisters and sweethearts and wives.

Feast on the sweets, but forget not The links that our friendship entwine ; They have not feasted, who whet not Their teeth on the tough canine.

E l i j a h E v a n E d w a r d s , DePauw ’ 53

B E T A T H E T A D O G PIE First air: “ Bull Dog.” Solo: Greeks of Beta Theta P i!

Chorus: W e are ready for the bark!

Solo: Are there no Barbarians nigh?

Chorus: They are stumbling in the dark!

Solo: Then raise every voice on high, Let us kindle every spark!

Chorus: The W orld shall to our merriment, In silent wonder hark!

As we bark, bark, bark through the night, As we bark, bark, bark till the light O f the dawn answers, bark!

And the fawn in the park Barks along W ith our song, Up to the mark!

Second air: “ The Shades of Night Are Falling Fast” Solo: Say, brothers, does the dog taste well?

Chorus: Yelp, yelp, yelp! Yelp, yelp, yelp!

Solo: Are you sure it ain’t cat, do tell?

Chorus: Yelp, yelp, yelp, yelp, yelp, yelp!

Solo: Then listen while I tell you all O f what some Betas did befall, Chorus: Yelp, yelp; yelp, yelp; yelp, yelp, yelp!

Yelp, yelp; yelp, yelp; yelp, yelp, yelp!

Yelp, yelp; yelp, yelp; yelp, yelp, yelp!

Yelp, yelp, yelp, yelp, yelp!

Y el-el-el-el-el-el-elp!

(Repeat yelping chorus.)

[In the fo llo w in g song, yelp in g chorus between lines only, the final chorus to be omitted until last stanza]

156

T he shades of night were falling fast As into an hotel there passed Some youths, who had not ate that day, And now would not be turned away.

T h e landlord swore he had no feed, O f which the Betas took no heed; Outside there was a savage bark, T h e y would not venture through the dark.

A t last, an hour had slow passed by, T h e boys lay down to starve and die; T h e dog without had ceased to howl, W hen landlord entered with a scowl.

He brought some sausage on a plate— T h e Betas were insatiate— T h e y ate until they couldn’t more, A n d rolled in anguish on the floor.

T h e y slept— w hen m idnight came, then hark!

W a s not that sound a bull dog’s bark?

T h e Betas w oke and yelled in fear, T h e ir bellies held— “ the dog is h e re !”

T h e y scampered out into the n ight, A n d by the m oon’s uncertain lig h t, A lon gside of an old pine lo g ,

T h e y saw the bones of that bull dog!

T h ird A ir: “ T h ere is a Boarding House, F ar, F ar A w ay” Solo: T h ere is a boarding house Chorus: N ot far aw ay, Solo: W h ere they have sausage meat Chorus: T h re e times a day.

O h , how those boarders hark W h e n they hear that sausage bark, Solo: Goodness m e, w h y, w hat was that?

Chorus: T h e dog! not the cat!

Fourth air: “ Here’s to Good old Y a le — D rin k it d o w n !”

Solo: H ere’s to W o o glin ’s dog!

Chorus: D rink it down! D rink it down!

Solo: H ere’s to W o o g lin ’s dog!

Chorus: D rin k it down! D rin k it down!

Solo: H ere’s to W o o g lin ’s dog!

H ere’s like rolling off a log!

157

Chorus: Drink it down! Drink it down!

Drink it down! D ow n! D ow n!

Hail thee Beta Xheta!

Sing on Beta Theta!

Ring on Beta, Beta Theta Pi! Barbarians we’re no more!

W e ’ve reached the Grecian shore!

Old Wooglin we adore, In Beta Theta Pi! Beta Theta, Beta Theta, Beta Theta, Beta Theta P i! spoken: S! U! E! G! M! Beta Theta P i!

Beta Theta Pi! Beta Theta P i!

Beta Theta Pi! Finale: “ So say we all of us.”

R ic h a r d G

erner,

Stevens ’ 78

A DOG TALE

&

was a pup of the homeliest mien; K iy i!

The homeliest puppy that ever was seen; Kiyi!

One eye it was red and the other was green, And his tail he had lost in a sausage machine; K iy i!

A B e t a B a r d of 1884

,

he

DORGGEREL

W

E l o v e our dorg so sweet,

And high do we now rate him; Dorg is the best of meat, And often do we ate him.

When the purp’s smoking hot, come right from the pot, W e stay at the feast all night; 158

When the platter is clean, and no scrap to be seen, W e go home by the morning light.

A “ P i n a f o r e ” B e t a B a r d of 1882

T H E C O L L E G E P R IM E R X . WOOG-LIN c T

•

h e Be-tas have a woog-lin dog I HE A M when they want to eat, And, They carve him up in lit-tle bits, From ears right down to feet.

Now if that no-ble Or-der rose From this o-blig-ing jo-nah, Then Be-ta Thet’, like Kap-pa Sig, Was found-ed in Bo-log-na.

[T

he

A

lph a

159

T

au

O

m ega

“ Palm ” ]

Can W e Forget? ☆ BETAS

OF

☆

☆

LONG

AGO

m a n w e fo rg e t the frien d s of lo n g ago?

I , Can we forget? can we forget T h e love that thrilled our hearts with joy?

A h , no! it liveth yet, it liveth yet.

T h e n sing, oh, Brothers of the M ystic T ie , T h e days gone by, the days gone by, T h e love, the faith of Beta T h e ta Pi C an never die, can never die.

T h e y rest, they rest, they sleep the dreamless sleep'.

W h ile cycles m ove, w hile cycles m ove.

B u t in our hearts eternally w e keep T h e ir faith and love, their faith and love.

C o m e , F rien d s and Brothers of the M y stic T i e , W h o bear the nam e, the honored nam e, A n d w e a r the badge of B e ta T h e t a P i, A n d sing th eir fam e, and sing their fam e.

E

lijah

E

van

E

dw ards,

D e Pauw

F A R E W E L L SO N G

J

an isle far out at ocean, .R obed in garb of beauteous hue, T h a t some lone, departing boatman Sees when fading from his view , Seem these joys around this altar W h ere our vows and o ff’ rings dw ell, A s on life ’s rough sea m y shallop Sets its sails and bids fare-w ell *, ik e

A s on life ’s rough sea m y shallop Sets its sails and bids farew ell.

160

’ 53

Fare you well, wj noble brothers, You whose hearts are tried and true; Must these bonds at last be broken, As I bid you all adieu?

No, for memory still will linger O ’er these scenes IVe loved so well; And our spirits yet will mingle, Though we speak this last farewell; And our spirits yet will mingle, Though we speak this last farewell i

Here’s my hand ; my heart is in it; Here’s my vow at Beta’s shrine; T o strike for God, for truth and country, T o lend a hand to thee and thine!

And when death shall move his shallop, T o bear me o’er the watery swell; Meet me, all, beyond the river; “ Loved and loving, fare you well”; Meet me, all, beyond the river; “Loved and loving, fare you well.”

A r e d F r a z i e r W hite , DePauw ’6 j

IN MEMORIAM H. D. H.

I i f e ’s page each day is blurred with many a stain, L eft there by tears that fall from sorrow’s eyes; Each night there rises from the far-off skies A cry for those who never come again.

M y time once more has come— my time for pain, Not like the first grief’s tearless agonies, But as upon my heart this sorrow lies— Sorrow as for a dear loved brother slain— I wind with tears my song’s dim laurel-leaves, Oh, true and brave, around thy m em ory’s bier, And as my spirit sadly, grieves, And while mine eyes are wet with many a tear, How many memories hopeless fancy weaves Round the dear form which death hath made more dear.

softly

II T oo soon, too soon, thy earthly course was run, Ere yet life’s morn had whitened into day, T h y feet grew weary on the untrod way, T h y fair eyes blinded by the morning sun; Ere yet thy goal was reached, thy palms were won, And ere the laurels on thy temples lay, Like some poor rose plucked from its stem in May, Life flickered out in silence and was done, Ah, still we hope that when upon thee broke T he light immortal of that fairer clime— When thy rapt ear with ecstacy awoke T o cadences of harmony sublime, A grander triumph to thy spirit spoke Than all the garnered glories of all time.

III Beyond the dome of heaven’s eternal blue, Oh, Soul, now standing on the shadowy shore— If any thought of mine may reach thee more, I f after death thy heart hath bloomed anew, If the sweet stories that our boyhood knew, That God was good and Christ, the White, was pure, Be not the myths of superstition’s lore, But wholly, grandly, beautifully true; M y heart would crave this question back from thine: In that fair land beyond the tideless sea, Far up the heights upon whose summits shine T he sinless eyes that closed on Calvary, How may my human heart reach up to thee, When will thy soul give token unto mine ?

IV In the dead past thy death hath made complete, W ith all the pain of passionate regret, The blossom of thy stainless life is set In that fair place where love and sorrow meet.

In memory of that time that was too sweet, W ith aching heart and eyes all wildly wet, Over thy heart I lay a violet, W ith roses at thy head and at thy feet.

162

Soft be thy rest, oh friend. The light serene O f death’s far land hath hid thee from our sight; These mortal eyes may never pierce the screen That shields thy golden day from our dark night; Some day, we trust, we too may find the light.

A last farewell. God keep thy memory green.

J a m e s L in d s a y G o r d o n , Virginia ’ 78

(In memory of Horace Douglas Higgins, Virginia ’ 79

T H E A V IA T O R i h e r e a r e n ew paths to adventure ’m id the suns and con­ stellations,

There are visions to discover in the whirlwind and the thunder, There are enemies to conquer far above the worlds and na­ tions, There is freedom to be fought for, and to give life for, up yonder. “ Where the earth’s far spaces vanish and the stars sing soft and tender, Where the soul of man, unfettered, leaves the dross of things below, I shall find the joy, not found here, in the boundless ether’s splendor,— I shall quench the spirit’s thirstings at the founts to which I go He said; and springing upward with a face of adorations, W ith youth’s faith and strength and purpose in his soaring star-flight blended, T ill he found the thing he sought for ’neath the silver con­ stellations, Down great air-lines, through cloud-breakers, beyond thought, his way he wended.

He who flew to fight for freedom, girded with youth’s as­ pirations, Eager, radiant, soaring onward through the silence of the skies,

Found the freedom he left earth for there amid the con­ stellations, W ith death’s shadow on his forehead and life’s wonder in his eyes.

A r m is t e a d C. G o rdon (Inspired by the statue on the Univer­ sity of Virginia campus commemorating James Rogers McConnell, Virginia ’ 10) SAM W A L T E R FOSS that funeral knell, " J ,O ’er sea and land!

In deeper tones than words may tell, Sounding the world’s— and our great loss— Sam Walter Foss! \

a d so u n d s

W ho has not laughed when he, Some bubble pricked, And shamed the sham, with classic glee?

Who, like him, could put common sense, In verse so tense ?

From forest, flower and field, He gathered toll,— Nor strained the nectar of their yield But, by the magic of his song, Made Truth more strong.

For Truth seemed clear to him; His keen-eyed muse, Explored it to its utmost rim,— This was the touchstone, by whose test, He wrought his jest.

And— thus— we mourn— Alas!

Beside his gold, Our dearest tribute seems but brass; And yet— the echoing of this lyre Uplifts us higher!

John

T

roland

(not a college man) 164

FROM BETA T O BETA have got the word that I have passed Beyond the reach of message and reply, Like any letter in the days gone by From me alive, this greeting comes— the last And while the outworn organism is cast Into the cleansing furnace, deathless I, O friend, am somehow in the spirit nigh And hold the lifelong bond of friendship fast.

When suddenly a candle is snuffed out The light seems lost to our imperfect sight, Y et are its rays diffused in space about Through endless years, high above day and night Thus the heart-throbs that mortally have thrilled In all eternity remain unstilled.

Faithfully and affectionately, W . H. C .

W i l l i a m H e r b e r t C a r r u t h , Kansas ’ 80) (T o James T a ft Hatfield, Northwestern ’83) h en you

G U N SAU LU S have I come, alone, to mourn my friend And yours, O ye who dwell immortally In this loved “ Poet’s Corner” ; for ’tis ye That should to my lone grief your presence lend.

Ye, who the most enduring words have penned In memory of friends, O sing for me O f him, who’s worthy in the company O f those you’ve sung, eternally to spend. ere

“ He knew, himself, to build the lofty rhyme,” But better still, he knew the spirit’s speech W ith which to stir the men of his own time; He knew the flaming word to preach and teach. “ The word made flesh” — his master’s mystery; “ The flesh made word,” this was his ministry.

Westminster Abbey, April 3, 1921.

John

H u sto n

F in l e y

(thinking of Frank Wakeley Gunsaulus, Ohio Wes­ leyan ’ 75)

165

W IL L IA M D A L L A M ARM ES

sFfi

E g a v e to culture here his earnest care;

/ X AA i man of learning, thought and judgment, he.

'T V The hills recall him and there seems to be, In this soft sunshine and the quiet air, T he gladness of his presence everywhere.

So yet I meet him and he talks with me O f art in book and stage and minstrelsy, As here for him would classic bards repair.

*« r

A man of keen but every kindly wit His wise discourses were a joy to hear; And all the things of worth e’er said or writ, Would in the magic of his words appear.

His was a nature gentle, true, and fine, A ll human, yet in tune with the divine.

T

hom as

N unan

(for dedication of a chair in the Greek Theater at Berk­ eley March 23, 1921.)

O

SO N G T H A T L A S T S

To Raimond Duy Baird, M u Efsilon} ipog / 1 / J e d r a w our chairs around the hearth, T o lift our voices as in days When circle full, a perfect chord Ascended to fair Beta’s praise.

The fire burns low, far in the flame, W e see the one who once a chair Drew near with us to make the name O f Beta ring with praises rare.

O song that lasts! O altar fire!

That whitens in the dimming light, T h y music swell, thy blaze renew For him who faithful in the fight, 166

W ent forth, thy treasure in his hand, T o hold aloft that men might see T h o’ long the days, or night come fast, T h y sons their glory yield to thee.

Ralph W

elles

K

eeler,

Wesleyan ’ 04

T H E F IT C H W E K N E W we knew will live— though he is gone— The clay close wrapped in Mother Earth’s embrace.

The Fitch we knew still gives our lives a song, That draws our hearts to Fitch’s resting place. :

f it c h

And we knew Fitch— not gay, not humoresque, Not for the fame or magic of his pen.

The Fitch we knew, and loved, and loved the best, Was plain George Fitch who loved his fellowmen.

The Fitch we knew— our friend— has passed away.

The world will miss his genius, it is true.

But here our hearts will grieve the human way, For nothing else than just the Fitch we knew.

A . O . P. (From The Trident of Delta Delta Delta, Amy O . Parmalee)

D O N F R A N C IS C O S T U A R T O (M i Jefe) there in the States where life is light, Prepare! I ’m coming Home!

M y fields are plowed in long straight ranks of rippling brown; M y corn is in ; M y herds graze calmly in the morning cool, The silver air is thin, Sharp-tingling in their wet, black-velvet nostrils deep in 1,

you

T he yucca-lilies blow High proclamation of Earth’s wildering lavishness In Mexico.

And so I ’m coming Home!

The breeze is north.

M y quickening corn is in ; A ll’s peaceful on the range; Still and in order, beautiful to see. . . . Hard won? Ah yes— but then, life smiles, somehow, On him who’s lured by odds O f distant justings, far-glimpsed eldorados, wastrel turns of Fate, That, once behind, may thenceforth be forgot; Y et hold Inalienate By subtler witcheries upon the early heart, That fail him not.

So Hi, you there in the States where life is light, Hail your Conquistador!

Your Marco Polo, from Cathay; your Gypsy, off on an­ other jaunt; Your Don Francisco Stuarto (mi jefe) Le Cid, I ’m coming Home!

T o claim a wisted halcyon-day: O r stay . . . or wander on.

W ho knows? . . . W ho shall gainsay the course of a Don Whose cattle graze; whose corn Hope-planted ’gainst the reaper’s blade, Is in ; Whom Home has called?

I come!

R alph A

u g u stu s

K r e i m e r , Cincinnati ’ 10

( T o Francis Hamilton Stuart, Kenyon, ’ 16, affectionately known among his native em­ ployees as “ Don Francisco (mi jefe)” ; born at Wyoming, Ohio, May 2, 1891; killed at his ranch near Tampico, Mexico, May 17, 1924) 168

OUR DEAD (ROTHERS around this festal board,

Where bright the wine is flowing, Where happy faces, joyous hearts, With youth’s sweet light are glowing, Put for a while the wine cup by, A moment pass in weeping For the dead in Beta Theta Pi, Wherever they are sleeping Like us, they, too, have sat around The board where wit was flying, When life was young and hope was bright, Fate’s darkest gloom defying:— They sit now at a grander feast, Their hearts in rapture leaping:— God keep them in the peace of Christ Wherever they are sleeping!

Soldiers they were who fell too soon Beneath our honored banners; Their graves are o’er the frozen North And on the bright Savannahs.

W e hush the laugh, we still the noise,— W e leave them in His keeping.

God bless our fallen Beta boys, Wherever they are sleeping!

J a m es L in d s a y G o r d o n , Virginia ’ 78

W . T . SH E R M A N : s t r e n u o u s day is past

The march, the fight.

The bugle sounds at last Lights out, Good night. “ The sky is white with stars; The tents gleam white.

Tired captain from the wars, Sleep through the night.

169

“ Sleep till the shadows take Their endless flight; Until the morning break, Good night! Good night!

C h a r l e s H e m m e n w a y A d a m s , DePauw ’65

(on the death of General Sherman)

FU N ERAL H YM N e miss

a cherished fo rm today,

And weep to see a vacant place; W e look upon our brother’s clay, Death’s seal is on his tranquil face.

Thou didst it, God, and we are dumb; Vouchsafe to us T h y present aid; O f human grief this is the sum— Our brother low in death is laid.

Clear was his mind, and true his heart; T o lowly, kind; to greatness, peer; In ev’ry act of life his part W as full of nobleness and cheer.

Sweet were the hours together spent While hope’s rich bow o’er-arched the sky; Future and present gaily blent, And fame shone grandly to the eye.

Ah! envious Death! thou canst not blot His precious image from our sight; He is immortal in our thought, And walketh ever in the light.

His God hath called him, he is blest; Faith sees him radiant in the sky; Ours is the labor, his the rest; He lives in Christ, he cannot die.

Then let these sprigs of living green Our sorrow and our comfort speak; Beyond the limits of the seen W e ’ll hail again our brother Greek!

W e ’ll hail again our brother Greek!

D a v id H a s t in g s M

170

oore,

Ohio ’ 60

A t the Banquet Table ☆

☆

☆

THE BETA BANQUET s b a n q u e t hall of fame,” Some olden poet wrote, And yet somehow tonight I hear the same gold note.

There is a glory here, A fame in banquet hall, And every man of us Can hear the Beta call.

It’s filling all the air As stars light all the sky, And makes this night most dear T o Beta Theta Pi. E dna D en h am R aym ond

A TO AST 'e r e ’ s a health to you, Brother------

Wooglin smiles on a son like you; For you’re fair and square And your heart’s right there: Y ou’re a regular friend, true blue.

K

enneth

W

h it n e y

R o g e r s , Syracuse ’ 17

A TO A ST T O THE FLEET Dorg holds the Astor to-night, His growling is sweet to our ears; Old Wooglin we pledge with delight, The friend of our bright college years.

But still there’s a toast to be borne In mind, if our feast be complete— e

171

T he Ships That Have Cruised ’Round the Horn.

Come, Betas, A Toast to Our Fleet.

From ensign to Admiral Bob, And Sperry, whose pennant’s to fly, A ll bully good men on the job, T o sail, or to shoot, or to die.

Let armor belts be where they may; A Navy that cannot be beat, W ay off in that Mexican bay, Good luck to Our Uncle Sam’s fleet.

T hey’ll swing ’round the whole of the map, Each turret a-nursing its gun.

T o The Kaiser, John Bull and the Jap, T hey’ll show how the thing should be done.

And though many long miles divide, The Beta hand reaches to greet.

Here’s How, to the whole Nation’s pride.

A ll up! Here’s A Toast to Our Fleet.

R obert E m m e t M

acA larney,

A TO A ST T O KNOX £

m t h e q uiet of m y room , Curtains drawn, no lamp alight, But, to chase the evening’s gloom, Blue-flamed grate of anthracite Glows before me as I rock, Listening to my tireless clock.

O ’er mine eyes a film has come As I gaze into the fire, And my senses else grow dumb— Nothing crave I nor desire, Only cozily to rock T o the ticking of my clock.

Sounding softly, faint but true, Come to me these far-off tones: “ Pray remember them when you Drink unto the absent ones— ”

172

Dickinson ’ 93

Through the years they seem to rock On the tickings of my clock.

Never have I seen his face, But I love him, all the same, And my heart bears vivid trace O f the letters of his name ; And, as here I softly rock, Timed by yonder restless clock, L ift I amethystine bowl, Filled with love unto the brim, And, with loyal heart and soul, Drain the sweet draught unto him: Meantime, “ ticks” my clock, and “ tocks,” Saying, “ Here’s to Reily Knox! ” L a f a y e t t e R u p e r t H a m b e r l in , Richmond ’94

A T O A S T T O TH E BETAS )

all who will, the sweet juices of Cintra; Sip the choice nectars of France and of Spain; Drain from the harvests of mountain and prairie All the rich liquids that golden their grain; r in k ,

But give to us true men this crystal-cased fountain, Ale from the ocean’s bed, brewed in the sky, Hurled by the lightning’s power, softened and chastened, Grace-like, in sweet showers sent from on high.

Look on man’s mixtures, concoctions of poison, Hemlock and nicotine, night-bane and rue, Purpled with plagues and discolored with tortures; Death-breeding broths that the devil-imps brew.

Look on this coral draught, flowing and sparkling— Pellets of pearls and bright globules of air— Beautiful brilliants, rich gems from the sea-foam, Torn from fair Peris’ chaste bosoms and hair.

Gems of first water— their transmuting power Sifting the sunbeams to sparkles of light—

I 73

Tints of a myriad suns* glint and glamor— Visions shall picture for us here tonight!

I, in those magic drops, see for the youthful Aeons of pleasure and ages of joy; Lovely companions in rambles delightful; Pain but a myth, and good health but a toy.

Verging on manhood, grave cares I see rising, Goals far removed, and frail fortune just fled Castles in Spain looming up in the distance; Leads yet ambition o’er hopes that are dead.

Silver-grays there I see laughing at manhood, Watching the pitfalls awaiting us all; Fleeces of gold by fierce dragons are guarded; Apples of Hercules come not at call.

Age I see triple: the Past, with its glory; Fruits of the Present— sweet comfort and ease; Shining with joy the hope-illumed Future— Heaven awaiting the soul at release.

Over all heads I see hovering beauties, Sweethearts, though wedded, may angelic be— And there, with joy sparkling and dancing with pleasure, Bright are the eyes that are watching o’er me.

Then here’s to the youthful, so hopeful and careless, A toast to the man in his prime that you see; Here’s to the silver-gray, and to the aged one, And here’s to the bright eyes that watch over me.

W i l l i s B o u g h t o n , Michigan ’81

T H E BOYS i s t h e r e any o (Jap(iapo<; mixed with the boys? “ If there is, take him out without making a noise.” “ Hang the almanac’s cheat and the catalogue’s spite! ” “ Old Tim e is a liar,” we’re all boys to-night.

W e ’re all boys! W e’re all boys! W ho says we are men?

He’s none of us,— Bv)ra boys!— shake him up then!

174

A 8opY for the whole of us, 8opY for each one, Each and ev’ry one take a piece, dare to miss none!

Was it SopY that I spoke of? Excuse the mistake!

Y et we all take a piece for “ Old Wooglin’s” sake, Each one of us asks for a piece— “ if you please” ; T h a t the current of B yjtoc blood never may freeze.

But again to the boys, for you’ve often been told, That the true-hearted “ Wooglinites” never grow old.

And a trick— am I wrong, if I tell of it now?

That the boys call each other odd names, somehow.

For this one is Doctor and that one is Judge!

It is not a fiction,— it is not “ all fudge.”

For do we not claim, ’midst our fore-rank of boys, The big-hearted, generous, Charles D . Roys?

And there’s dear Reily Knox, whom we worship, almost, For his children will number— not one— but a host.

And then, there’s John Duncan, a Brjra so true, That while we say father, we’re yet brother, too!

There’s our O zro J. Dodds, another big gun; While for Congress, our “ Red Hot,” wanted to run.

Then little John Covington— little in size,— T o a Greek, great in influence, surely will rise.

Now Old “ Pappy Brouse,” though a boy with the rest, Strides boldly the Court-room, small lawyers to test.

But listen! John Hogarth shouts loudly and free, The song of the B yjtoc? (on page forty-three).

There’s Gen’ral John Coburn, Ex-Member of C., And Theophilus Parvin, with his title, M .D .

Mark D ’Motte and Clay Gooding, and others we know, Only lacked a few votes, up to Congress to go.

Bill Springer, Ike Clements and Halbert E. Paine, Dan. Voorhees and Porter, the honor did gain.

While Morton, McDonald and Harlan and Booth, Concluded they’d go to the Senate, forsooth.

The great Schuyler Colfax o’er-reaches them all, For he wasn’t content with honors so small;

175

But up to the chair of Vice-President went; And be not surprised if he’s made President.

While Wilson and Buskirk, both L L .D .’s, Finally judge of the merits of pleas; The long list of lawyers, we can’t stop to name, Are rapidly rising to eminent fame.

The Editors, Doctors, Professors and “ sich,” Are each and all striving to be very rich.”

In the Pulpit, or Navy and Army, in blue, W e find that the B yjtoc boys always are true.

The long list of Students still “ scaling the wall,” The echoing triumphs of B oras’ recall.

And as year after year rolls relentlessly by— T he boys will still gather, forever to cry— “ Yes, we’re boys,— always playing with tongue or with pen, ’ W e shall always be boys, we shall never be men, W e shall aways be youthful and laughing and gay, “ T ill our last dear companion drops smiling away! ” “ Then here’s to our boyhood, its gold and its gray! “ The stars of its winter, the dews of its May! “ And when we have done with our life-lasting toys, “ Dear Father take care of T h y children, the boys.”

A B e t a B a rd

of

1870

W E ’L L T O A S T T H E SIL V E R G R A Y S old Wooglin’s legions meet— a mystic, joyous band, Our boys to greet, our canine eat, and clasp a frater’s hand.

And here with joy we meet the boy of distant college days; W e hail him yet, and ne’er forget to toast the Silver Grays: W e’ll hail them yet and ne’er forget to toast the Silver Grays.

g a in

They shine among the stars that grace the galaxy of Fame; They add new lustre to the place, and honor Beta’s name.

176

In field and forum, church and state, they lead the van always; Their powers great we’ll emulate and toast the Silver Grays: W e’ll hail them yet and ne’er forget to toast the Silver Grays.

And when the silver sheen shall grace these brows now young and fair, May each have found some worthy place and wrought with honor there.

And then with pride shall Wooglin’s sons in time’s re­ motest days Their goblets fill from Nature’s still and toast the Silver Grays: W e’ll hail them yet and ne’er forget to toast the Silver Grays.

J o h n H o g a r t h L o z i e r , DePauw ’ 57

T H E RESPON SE J Q

boys, your Beta songs and glees bring Silver Grays good

cheer; They waken college memories and make us glad we’re here.

Aye, glad we are this feast to share with brothers old and new; And all agree ’tis time that we should drink a toast to you.

The Silver Grays of olden days well know that Wooglin seeks In all our colleges to raise a band of stalwart Greeks O f cultured brain, and manly life, to Wooglin’s legends true, And each a hero in the strife,— so now it’s up to you.

Years flit away, and silver gray shall other brows adorn; “ A crown of glory” each, be they, “ in righteousness” if worn.

So Silver Grays their goblets raise all filled from nature’s brew, While boundless joys for Beta Boys shall be our toast for you.

177

W e’ll drink a toast to you, Young sons of Wooglin true— The Silver Grays of coming days— W e’ll drink a toast to you.

J o h n H o g a r t h L o z i e r , DePauw ’ 57 W ritten by the author o f “ W e’ll T o ast the Silver G rays,” fo r the 38th A nn ual D inner o f T h e C hicago A lum ni Association o f Beta T h eta Pi. A u ­ ditorium H otel, F rid ay, N ovem ber 16, 1906.

178

T h e Silver Grays ☆

☆

☆

T H E B O Y S O F T H IR T Y -N IN E gather at the shrine with us T o sing Old Wooglin’s praise; They carve that old canine with us, They toast the Silver Grays.

Yes, when we clasp a brother’s hand, When eye looks into eye, W ho says that they have left the band O f Beta Theta Pi? ey

W e see them,— there our Pater Knox Sits yonder at the right, He slipped through all Saint Peter’s locks T o be with us to-night.

There’s Marshall; yonder Linton sits; Young Hardin’s next in line: The men— that’s not the word that fits— The boys of Thirty-Nine.

Grown to ripe old youth are they, A lively, loyal lot; An eye on work, an eye on play, A heart that wavers not.

The clumsy years slip off to-night; The light of other days Shines in the eyes, once dim, now bright;— Where are the Silver Grays?

Where are the Silver Grays, my boys?

Where is the feeble tread ?

W e have no mind for days, my boys, That ever can be dead.

A crow, a laugh, a growing old, A tear or two, a sigh,; That’s life, you say?— Not in the fold O f Beta Theta P i!

There’s something else— a friend or two: Add these, and thank your God 179

That you may taste of what is true Before you taste the sod. ’T is this we thank them for the most; T o this we rear our shrine, And, heartful, drink a silent toast: The Boys of Thirty-Nine!

S a m u e l M e r w i n , Northwestern ’ oo

R E C E S S IO N A L come to our feast tonight, Come Wooglin!

Wooglin what will that feast be like, If you’re not in?

Wooglin, your sons are meeting, Meeting and greeting and some canine eating.

Oh, won’t you come ?

Come, come, come to our feast tonight, Wooglin!

H o r a c e L o z ie r , Chicago ’94

o o g l in ,

W O O G L I N ’S C H R IS T M A S SO N G E n i g h t is dark and w ild w ithout,

The wind blows fierce and cold, And eddying snow-flakes softly fall Down on the frozen mould; But round our brightly blazing fire The moments swiftly fly As glad we sing our deep, dear love For Beta Theta Pi. Old Wooglin’s face in cloud enwrapped Beams on our happy throng, A joyous smile enwreathes his lips, He joins us in our song; And as the joyful notes go up And wake the echoes strong W e pause awhile, in silence deep, T o hear old Wooglin’s song: 180

“ Alpha, Omega, Lambda, Theta, How short the time does seem!

The years have wrought a mighty change, It’s almost like a dream; A little band of eight true souls Met round my altar, then; Now, thousands proudly claim the name O f Beta Theta’s men.” “ Knox, Marshall, Linton, Hardin, Smith, Each one you ought to know, Duncan and Ryan, Gordon too, T o them your name you owe.

Raise loud hurrahs, a joyous three!

While laurel wreaths you twine, And ne’er forget the debt you owe Those Boys of Thirty-Nine.”

Hurrah! Hurrah! for Beta Theta P i!

W e’ll proudly bear her name through life, W e’ll love her till we die.

C h a r l e s D u y W a l k e r , Virginia Military ’69

V

O U R FOUNDERS

h e n WE meet to sing the pleasures That the bonds of Beta yield, Let us not forget our founders, Those who raised our noble shield.

Ties they gave that naught can sever, Ties that speak our motto’s worth; Ties that bind us fast together, Ties among the best of earth.

Joys peculiar, too, they gave us, Joys that none but Greeks can share; Joys that merit true affords us, Joys that drown each Beta’s care.

T o the founders of our order Joyous songs we then shall raise; T o their names, forever glorious, W e will ever give our praise.

181

Never shall our shield be lowered; From our stars we’ll never swerve; W e will cherish still our diamond; And the wreath we’ll still deserve.

S a m u e l E l a d s it W

i l l ia m s o n ,

Western Reserve ’ 64

’N E A T H T H E E L M S A T O L D M IA M I elms at old Miami, % ^ a i «-/ \ Eighteen Eig hundred thirty-nine, eath th e

Beta Theta Pi was founded On fraternal love sublime.

And the vision of those dreamers Is our heritage so dear, That the memory of the founders Betas always will revere.

Tim e has passed since these men led us, But their names and thought today Stir the souls of Wooglin’s legions, Beta boys and “ Silver Gray.”

Beta brains retain that concept, Beta hearts a glowing shrine, Ever sacred to the memory O f the “ Boys of Thirty Nine.”

L

ue

C a r r u t h e r s L o z ie r , Missouri ’ 15

M IA M I— M O T H E R O F B E T A shades of old Miami, A . D. eighteen thirty-nine, They were joined in bond fraternal, Founders of the Beta line.

Each contributed a portion from his heart and mind and soul T o the bond to make it lasting till the years might cease to roll.

In their bond they then encompassed other men of kindred aim T ill their numbers grew to legion, bearing Beta’s glorious name.

N

L

the

182

In their early days of struggle there came to the brotherhood From the Land of Guardian Spirits, one who gave them motherhood; She was sent to them by Wooglin, Spirit Father of their clan, W ho had wooed her for their mother when his guardian­ ship began.

Wooglin called her name Miami, for the place whence Beta sprung; Taught her foster sons to love her while to Beta lore they clung.

So, the Spirit of Miami guards her sons with loving care When they leave their earthly mothers and in college life take share; Ever watching all their actions as real mothers could not do; They must ever feel her presence pointing to the course that’s true; And, as Wooglin smiles approval or, displeased, displays a frown So, Miami, Beta Mother, sends her curse or blessing down.

Sons of Wooglin and Miami, in their bonds of Beta bound, E ’er must strive for deeds of merit so their praises will re­ sound Through the Halls of Beta Glory as their songs fraternal r in g

And re-echo to their brothers yet to come and yet to sing, As a plan that’s been established or a mark that’s been set h ig h

For the coming generations to be pledged in Phi kai Phi. Thus, will Beta live forever, till the seasons cease to roll, And grow stronger, ever better, if each brother sets a goal Just a little further forward than the one set up for him And with ceaseless, tireless effort strives with all his might and vim.

Then, Miami, with old Wooglin, guardians of the Beta Clan W ill be happy with the progress of the mighty Beta Plan.

C l a r e n c e N e l so n C o n e , Ohio Wesleyan ’ 14.

183

IN MEMORY OF JOHN REILY KNOX the years in seasons four Live out the days they’re given on earth.

This span they make ’tween death and birth.

These time marks all had he passed o’er. en and

In early winter’s thoughtful time, W ith ripe fruits of a full life stored, In lengthening shadows ne’er deplored, He saw the end in peace sublime.

A seed he planted of true love.

And humbly cherished it through life.

Apart from worldly care and strife, He sought this noble work to prove.

He planted better than he knew, And in his death a brothers’ race Arise, and his life’s work embrace, That its fruition may accrue.

Immortal monument he reared: No heaven-towering shaft sublime, T o crumble with the waste of time, Recalls his memory revered.

Around his name tradition weaves The thought of welded human hearts.

This memory will survive all arts.

A lasting legacy it leaves.

Let brotherhood grow more and more, And in his Grecian circle dwell; Harmonious lives, according well, Do honor to him gone before.

It is not meet for such to mourn.

Far more do hope and joy find source When so well run has been the course O f life unto its final bourne.

Reflection in this hour should teach That life shall live forevermore.

184

Death cannot bind this spirit o’er; This soul’s bequest it cannot reach.

The eternal process still moves on, From state to state the spirit grows.

Its final calling no man knows; Though ever some new glory’s won.

Such lives are milestones in the path T o that far-off divine event, Toward which creation, confident, Moves on in ever-growing faith.

F r a n c is H i n c k l e y S isson , Knox ’ 92

O U R SIL V E R G R A Y S they builded better than they knew, Our founders nine, when in the quiet shade, A t old Miami, thoughtfully they laid Our Order’s corner-stone in friendship true.

And well thereon our elder brothers, through A long half century, built with care, nor made Account of toils for friendship, ne’er afraid O f high ideals, nor slow with honor due.

n truth,

How fair the labor of their loving hands Appears to us, who on this later day Assume the work by them so well begun.

And when complete the stately structure stands, May those who judge us then, right gladly say, As we of our own Silver Grays, “ W ell done.”

C harles M

&

cG uffey

H e p b u r n , Virginia ’ 80

R E -U N IO N

we stand beside the sweet old altar Where we were wont to stand in other days, Once more we feel our pulses rise and falter, Once more we fill the summer air with praise; n ce m ore

*85

W e bend our faces o’er the old sweet flowers Whose petals with our falling tears are wet, And thank God for the mem’ry of dead hours W e never can forget.

W hat though we’ve passed some years in vainly sighing, W hat though our hair is stricken through with gray; W e’ve kept the Faith which to our hearts was crying, W e’ve heard the song that shall not pass away!

True, we have had our weight of bitter sorrow, True, we have felt the sadness of decay:— W e dream not of to-morrow and to-morrow— Only of yesterday.

The yesterday, with youth’s bright tints undying, The time we stood upon life’s sunrise strand, Where o’er the waters unto us came flying God’s angel, with the laurel in his hand; W hat though, perchance, that laurel missed our keeping, And only unto one bleak rock we cling?

Did we not hear above our bent heads sweeping The whisper of his wing?

Yes, we have heard it, and we raise the pean O f praise to Him who marks the sparrow’s fall:— Sweet Child of God, O sinless Galilean, Whose eyes are on, whose love is with us all, Guard us and keep us, teach us all T h y story, Help us to raise our hearts to Thee on high, And throw, O God, the mantle of T h y glory On Beta Theta Pi! J a m e s L in d sa y G o r d o n , Virginia ’ 78

T H E F L E E T IN G YE A R S I o m e b a c k from out the fleeting past I j Bright years when youth was ours; When every joy seemed born to last And all the way was flowers.

Come back and bring The thrill of Spring, 186

Its sunshine and its showers, When we had faith in everything And trust in all our powers.

Return ye kind delightful years, Y e brave and hopeful days, When we were unalarmed by fears And walked in hopeful ways; Return and bless W ith Life’s caress, Its fond and eager plays; The magic of a waving tress In those unclouded Mays.

Give back our faith in our own strength Our pride in being strong, And all the happy breadth and length O f youth’s full-throated song; The pride of place, The trilling pace, The whirl and madding-dong And all the sweet unconscious grace O f days remembered long.

But stay— I look around this board And see about me here Gray heads by all of us adored And crowned for many a year; And faces kind W ith genial mind, That bid our hearts draw near; T o all our faults and failings blind, Great souls by life made dear.

And, suddenly, those years long dead, In blossoms bright return, Devoid of doubt, with truth instead, Raised from their burial urn, All free from rust W ith faith and trust, W ith stronger hopes that burn; They shake away the cumbering dust And bid us from them learn. is?

Learn this— dear boys of every age, Youth’s an immortal thing That glows from every human page Where truth and beauty sing; And Winter time Is but its prime When love is on the wing, T o burst into the perfect rhyme, O f the Eternal Spring.

W

il l ia m

M

arc

C

hauvenet,

Washington

W H EN G REEK M EETS GREEK Greek met Greek in armed might, In dense array, on gory field, The gods on fair Olympia’s height, As far and wide the loud din pealed, Sat trembling on their golden thrones.

The shuddering air was rent with groans; And bloody spear, resounding shield, The clanging bow, and arrow’s flight Told of the fierceness of the fight, When Greek met Greek in armed might, In dense array, on gory field. hen

When Greek met Greek, in strength arraigned, Upon the great Olympian plain, The poets sang in praise unstained, From Delphi to the stormy main, The glory, virtue, and renown O f him who wore the laurel crown.

Then each one strove with might and main— The tendons of the muscles, trained, And every subtle nerve was strained— When Greek met Greek in strength arraigned Upon the great Olympian plain.

When Greek meets Greek in Beta halls, Around old Wooglin’s sacred shrine, Where radiant stars illume the walls And diamond rays in beauty shine, Then friendly strife ensues, and each 188

One tries to win, with honeyed speech, A laurel prize. There lurks a mine O f wit, and, when its fire appalls, Nestorian wisdom healing falls, When Greek meets Greek in Beta halls, Around old Wooglin’s sacred shrine.

W

il l is

B o u g h t o n , Michigan ’ 8 1

T H E D R IF T IN G D A Y S J j N t h e days that have drifted aw ay, Those of the vanished past, There was more of play than there is today— More of the joy with less alloy, More of the feast than of fast.

Alas, alas! for the glittering throng O f days that have drifted away— For the college song, never too long, For the pony rode, for the debts we owed, And the games we learned to play.

Those were the days when Bacchus smiled In a ’witching, winsome way, And our hearts beguiled till books were piled Away from sight, and into the night Were carried the sports of the day. ’Twould require the voice of an Israfel T o paint with words aright O r in measure tell of the wondrous spell The Soph, possessed in a Freshman’s breast When they met alone at night.

There were hazings that made professors frown, And many a midnight lark, W ith the dull old town turned upside down— No end of fun, though we had to run, And thank fortune if ’twas dark.

Each college town has its widows still, Ones that were wooed, not wed; 189

For with every thrill came a following chill; Love bloomed one day, then faded away, O r its fragrance on others shed.

But not for all was love’s cup spilled, Perhaps you remember this— A touch that thrilled like wine distilled Through every vein, and almost pain W as one ecstatic kiss.

But when sly Cupid aimed its dart ’Tw as only for the eye; The warmest part of each true heart Yearned over all for the banquet hall O f Beta Theta Pi. And when in mystic circle formed W e vows to Wooglin plighted, Our minds were charmed, our hearts were warmed W ith friendship pure that will endure Though other vows be slighted.

So fill the goblets to the brim, Laud Alma Mater high, But with more vim touch rim to rim, And here and now renew the vow T o Beta Theta Pi. D o n a l d D . D o n n a n , Iowa ’85

FRATERN AL SYM PATH Y seemed the city’s selfish strife, And all the tumult of the roaring mart, As at the Betas’ festal board each heart Grew young again, and in the genial life O f brotherhood forgot the pain so rife In the unsympathizing world, the smart O f failure, and the toilsome way to art, O r tender hopes laid low by Fate’s keen knife.

^^

far o ff

A ll hearts grew young, and blithe, and debonair,— Such virtue has fraternal sympathy; So, oft, may come the morn’s cool, freshening air 190

Endowed with scent of roses on the lea!

So, oft, upspring the sun in heavens fair, Above the tumbling waters of the sea!

C h a r l e s M c G u f f e y H e p b u r n , Virginia ’ 80

(A t Washington, February 6, 1891.)

O LD COM RADES 'h , comrades, come with me and dream,

And let’s go back to olden scene, When we were young in Beta ways, The golden olden college days.

It seems somehow we still can smile As we sit here and rest awhile; For comrades once, though years ago, W ith Beta grip it still is so.

Though age has come and greyed our hair, Our hearts are young with dream still fair, So raise a glass and drink this time T o dear old glory Beta mine.

E dna D en h am R aym ond

T H E S IL V E R G R A Y 1 g l o w of rapid dying coals * aint hints of other days throws ’cross the floor,— And, as on nights in far off distant past.

They came: they rap a welcome signal at my door, And enter: still the same old crowd O f jolly souls that oft made glad my hearth, Returning from the journey of the years T o lift my lonely fireside from the cares of earth.

A Beta song, a toast to Her— The fire of dying coals revives once more, And diamonds flash defiance to the years, While stars relit with joy are twinkling as of yore.

191

T he years have sped, but who would mourn— Since blood of youth now warms the weary heart: For Betas who have worn the wreath of gold Shall ne’er from friendship’s finer flow of life depart.

Ralph W

elles

K

eeler,

Wesleyan ’ 04

SO N G O F T H E SIL V E R G R A Y Pn e ev en in g I w as sittin g

Where the shadows dark were flitting Round my head, like shades of Erebus on occult missions bent, When the bending boughs above me Whispered in my ears, “ W e love thee,” And the evening star smiled sweetly in the darkening Oc­ cident.

On the air a song was pealing, And its joyous notes were swelling O ’er the murmurings of Nature’s children sinking into sleep, And the words the song was singing Floated like the glad bells’ ringing When the echoes roll across the heaving bosom of the deep.

Oh, I listened to the gladness O f that song, so free from sadness, And my heart was filled with happiness while tears stood in my eye, For, as I heard the ending, W ith my soul its echoes blending, I knew it was the glorious song of Beta Theta Pi. Ah, my youth then rose before me, And the memories sweet stole o’er me O f the days when in our little hall I helped to sing that song; When the star of Hope shone brightly And the cares of life sat lightly, And my heart was filled with thoughts that to the spring of life belong.

Then before me rose the faces O f my comrades in their places, 192

As we sat around our table like Deipnosophists of old, Mingling wisdom with our feasting While from study’s labor resting, And enjoying as the heart that knoweth not can ne’er be told.

Oh, the bonds of friendship welded, And the faith that then was builded On the solid rock of love fraternal, lasting as the sun; Oh, the hearts that grew together, One soul blended with another, That shall never more be parted till the race of life is run.

In life helping one another, Brother kindly aiding brother, Giving sympathy to sorrowful and weeping with the sad, W e are nearing now life’s ending, And with souls forever blending, W e shall enter where the sorrowing shall ever more be glad.

And, in that home supernal, W ill we not, with love eternal, Ever strive to aid our brothers in their struggles here below, And, with loving inspiration, Give their hearts an intimation O f the care and loving kindness that with time shall stronger grow?

In the infinite dimensions O f that house of many mansions W e shall meet in mystic circle, and our vows again renew; And as each grips with the other, An eternal Beta brother, Loud shall peal a song of gladness, swelling with a meaning new.

S o l o n L o u e r , Western Reserve ’86

S IL V E R G R A Y T O S IL V E R G R A Y

W\

old friend of other days, ’11 meet you with the season’s lays.

I could wish my words of greeting Spoken were at Beta meeting. e ll now ,

193

So then could eye look into eye, And read the noble purpose high, That binds the leal and loving band When Betas grip, with hand in hand.

Alas, how many boys once here T o greet us with their love and cheer Have passed beyond our sight and ken And we are left, few aging men! ’T is ever thus, as on we go In this old, fleeting world below; But in the world to follow this May we repeat, in words of bliss, “ W e are all— all here! ” E d w a r d J o h n B r o w n , Hanover ’ 73

JA M D IES C A R P T I o

other

days are like the college days:

Our days of freshest youth, of morning light; When— as the arctic sun with lifting rays Circles the glowing sky from morn till night, Nor sinks, but mounts yet higher and shines more bright— Whole years were sunrise, and the pressing hours Still showed the world more wide from Alma Mater’s towers.

No other days are like the college days: I ever grieve that mine are fled so long; And in my soul the college cries still raise Tumultuous echoes; and a college song, In riotous nonsense ringing loud, is strong T o lift, one instant, all the weight of years; Then, as the cadence falls, comes age, and with it, tears.

No other days are like the college days:, Their sorest troubles we recount with mirth; And all that we remember of the frays That once with tumult shook our little earth, Are but the friendships that in strife had birth; For oft the bitterest feuds of college strife Knit stoutest bonds of unison in our after life.

194

No other days are like the college days: Even our college scrapes have such a charm W e glorify them ever, to amaze The callow generation, and alarm Their rivalry, who never dreamed of harm In staid and veteran founders, such as we,— Y et the same tunes by them full soon will chanted be, No other days are like the college days: And there’s no nation like a college state; That keen democracy, whose frankness flays Pretence; where wit and worth alone have weight; Where brainless money scarce can win a mate.

Turbulent, restless, loyal to the core,— No sounder, truer hearts are found the whole world o’er.

No other days are like the college days: No other friends are like old college mates, Forgotten never; though our parting ways Lead to the ends of earth; old college hates Are calls to friendship now; fiercest debates Have left no sting; on the most hostile Greek A hearty shake is all our direst wrath would wreak.

No other days are like the college days;— Unless it be these days wherein we meet In glad reunion, to rehearse the praise O f those sweet by-gone years, and warmly greet Betas both new and old, and take our seat ’Mid the familiar rout in Wooglin’s hall, A t the great banquet board where “ dorg” is all in all.

C h a r l e s K e l s e y G a in e s , St. Lawrence ’ 76

R E -U N IO N SO N G

I \

ago there was a band I W ith hearts both warm and true, They joined in friendship hand in hand, And sweet that friendship grew.

They took us in to share their joys, o m e t im e

195

Their happiness— you and I ; L et’s sing a song both loud and long T o Beta Theta Pi. II W e gather now around the hall, As oft in days of yore; But many now have gone from us, W ho’ve sung with us before.

T hey’ve left us now for aye, my lads, But still their sad “ good bye” Is ringing in the bosom of Each Beta Theta Pi. III There’ll be another parting soon, And hands long bound must sever, But the cord of friendship ne’er will break, It binds the past forever.

And in the world’s alarms and storms, When dangers gather nigh, No friend so sure, no friend so pure, As Beta Theta Pi. IV So here goes death to busy care, W e’ll nought but pure delight, And think not of the morrow, till W e’ve well sung out the night.

And as our joys go round, my boys, Let golden arrows fly T o bear a health, a happy health, T o Beta Theta Pi. V Y et once again, the last and best, Fill high with rosy wine, W e’ve sung to thee and me, my boys, Let’s sing to thine and mine.

May soft hands clasp your own, my boys, And brightly beam the eye, O f fond, true-hearted maidens on Each Beta Theta Pi. 196

VI Then, ere our anthem dies Bidding us part, Let our proud chorus rise, Full from each heart, Sing for the love ye bear Greek soul to Greek, Once again wake the strain, Beta’s praises speak.

Chorus: Brothers, for aye are we, Close is the tie, Faith and love here we prove In Beta Theta Pi. A B e t a B ard

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A N O L D -T IM E B E T A P A R T IN G SO N G (Varying the preceding)

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? ROTHBRS) an a n t h l raise

Ere we depart; Let the high notes of praise Burst from each heart.

Symbol of unison, Sing with one voice; Bid the strain wake again; T ill e’en the walls rejoice.

Brothers for aye are we, Close is the tie; Heart and hand, joined we stand, In Beta Theta Pi. II Sing we the name which binds Many in one, Watchword of chosen minds, Guiding us on.

Trust in a brother’s love, 197

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Help for his need; Truest fame, purest name, Beta’s noble creed.

Brothers for aye are we, Close is the tie; Tried and proved, trusted, loved, Each Beta Theta Pi. III Foes that around us crowd, Waken no fear; Menace and boasting loud, Heed we none here.

Few, but invincible, W ar shunned nor sought, Firm allied, victory’s pride Ever crowns our lot.

Brothers for aye are we, Close is the tie; One in heart, nought can part Our Beta Theta Pi. IV Sing we of fairer forms, Those who, unnamed, Y et in true Beta hearts, Places have claimed.

Bright be each thought of them, Loveliest, best; Fears nor woe may they know, E ’er with sunshine blest.

Joined with our sacred band, Close is the tie; Warmest prayers e’er are theirs, In Beta Theta Pi. V Chant we the praise of those Who, from the night, 198

First brought our order forth, Brilliant with light.

They who, though all were foes, Knew not to yield, T ill strong might crowned the right, ’Neath Beta’s stainless shield.

Brothers for aye are we, Close is the tie; First in name, first in fame, O f Beta Theta Pi. VI Then, ere our anthem dies, Bidding us part, Let our proud chorus rise Full from each heart.

Sing for the love ye bear, Greek soul to Greek; Once again wake the strain, Beta’s praises speak.

Brothers for aye are we, Close is the tie; Faith and love here we prove, In Beta Theta Pi. A B e t a B ard

T H E H IG H P R IE S T ’S M ESSAG E meet, my boy, with that Beta band, And share in their mystic feast, Just give one toast for Old Wooglin, and One word for his first High Priest.

I know I ’m an old “ back number” now, That few of them ever met; From this quiet “ shelf” I announce myself As one of the “ Old Boys” yet. h e n you

When Scotia’s bard sang “ Auld Lang Syne” He uttered an undertone, 199

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Which I fondly pray to my brothers may Be ever a “ strain” unknown.

So I bid God-speed to each word and deed That lives in the great world’s thought; For sadder yet than “ lest we forget” Are the words, lest we be forgot! “ When Greek meets Greek,” if they bid you speak, Remember your Beta sires; How I wish that band might “ grip” this hand T hat lit the first Wooglin fires!

T ell them I bid them firmly stand For purity, truth, and right.

Then the “ barbs” who beat a Beta band W ill have to stay up all night!

J o h n H o g a r t h L o z i e r , DePauw ’57

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Reunion Rhymes ☆

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B E T A M E M O R IE S M o u r s y m p a th y , friends! I declare it is hard T o serve up a salad that’s not on the card.

T o sit here embarrassed by torments untold, And let all my Baltimore tid-bits get cold, W ith my nerves all distracted, and blushes that burn, M y appetite gone, while I wait for my turn.

I suppose your committee will make no rebate, And expects me to pay just the same for my plate!

So easy, you know! Just a few happy rhymes That will brighten the picture of earlier times; Some hits that are clever; some thought, and some chaff; Some sweetly-sad mem’ries; a sigh, and a laugh; Bring out certain points that are novel and strong, W ith a few spicy anecdotes scattered along— M y dear boys! Where’s the flavor in wit that’s long-rhymed, That is brought in the pocket all loaded and primed, W ith its jokes all prepared, like the clown’s at the show, And ready to fire when the chairman says: “ Go” ?

What wonder my verses are shy and uncouth, Like the amateur stage-helps of Barrett and Booth ?

In the midst of these heavy guns loaded with lore I am conscious of being a very small bore.

But here goes! If the weapon don’t bang as it might, Blame Lamb there for getting you into the plight.

As I sat in the Symphony Concert to-day, I was watching the different artists who play.

There was first Violin who was driving along, The life of the movement, the soul of its song.

But no less the mild Second must keep up his pace, And find in the whole a harmonious place.

The shrill Clarionet bore its dominant part, Y et not less the sweet Flute was demanded by art; And the heavy Bass-viol, with its limited range, And ’Cellos, and Trombones, gave color and change.

So, perhaps, in this group where no part is alone, But each instrument lends its own volume and tone, 201

A place will be found, and some music may come From the rat-a-tat-tat of my own empty drum.

Yet, aside from all sport, and a vein which is light, ’T is old Beta’s dear hearthstone that warms us to-night, And the board which is spread by our own Alpha Chi Calls together her children of days long gone by.

How the vista grows wide, and the vision more vast, As our thought travels back to the scenes of the past: T o our old college days with their joys and defeats, And the old college town with its elm-shaded streets!

W hat struggles absorbed us, how great seemed the game, The spiking, the pledging, the contests for fame!

W ith what spirit we battled for some petty prize Which loomed up to mountainous bulk in our eyes!

And what conquest more weighty has thrilled us since then Like “ scooping” some rival in honors or men?

Ah, the old Beta boys! In the years that have fled They have wandered and scattered: some married, some dead: And old fickle Fortune has made them her game, But, thank God! has not tarnished their honor or name.

Fred is lord of a mansion with servants and steeds, While poor Harry’s a parson, weighed down by his needs; Sober Frank has just wed a society star, And Ike is fast reaching the head of the bar; And our John, a born leader in devilish schemes, Whose pranks oft made “ Prexy” arise from his dreams, Our dogmaster, toastmaster, warden, and choir, (W hat a hand to fry sausages over the fire! ) Is now settled down in the smooth path of knowledge, And presides, like the soberest judge, in a college.

Beta boys? yes, and girls! for these rhymes which I write Bring up other poems and verses to-night.

Ah, the sweet album-lyrics in honeyed words told,— (O r perhaps more like glucose)— those sonnets of old!

There was dear, fair-haired Mary, retiring and meek,— I once thought! . . . W ell, I sent her her present last week; Black-eyed Polly, who caused such electrical pains; Has married a fortune,— not cumbered with brains; And trim, busy Annie, just made for a wife, (How I ’ve sat down beside her and worn out my knife 202

Cutting twine for her fingers to weave into macrame! ) She’s engaged to another one:— hinc illae lacrimae!

Bright Grace has a son— the young rascal!— I vow I am left all alone, a dry leaf on the bough.

But why so despondent? ’T is a bright opening year, That need bring with it nothing but courage and cheer, And our hearts should be braced by the thought that we stand On its threshold to-day so unbroken a band.

Alpha Chi’s future scribe will point back to this time As the day when her glory was in its full prime.

A good year it has been! As its days rolled along The chapter waxed thriving, aggressive and strong, She takes in with speed every honor that rises, Has monopolized fame, holds a corner in prizes!

So here’s to her health for long years without end, And still may she flourish to join friend to friend!

Bright Baltimore days! Ah, too soon you’ll be gone!

Our ranks will soon widen; the hard wheels roll on.

In place of these junkets, spreads, feastings, and all, “ Der Kampf um das Dasein” will hold us in thrall.

In some lone southern town, or remote western plain, W e shall dream of old Carrollton’s menu again, In those oysterless regions where shad is unknown, And where canvas-back yields place to bacon and pone, Where the voice of the soft-crab is ne’er to be heard, And where terrapin’s name is a mystical word!

So “ Freut euch des Lebens,” for quickly it ends, And no word is so sweet as the greeting of friends.

A grasp of the hand, and a word of good cheer, Then out to the work of another brief year, In the fierce din of life though our lot may be thrown, May it not be to struggle and strive all alone!

And though it bring hardships,— and bring them it must— May our banner of manhood ne’er droop in the dust!

I set out to be brief:— here I ’m driving away And preaching along like an old silver-gray; I am getting my wind at a terrible rate, And these galloping anapaests take their own gait.

So I rein in my charger, get down from my steed, And bring to an end my monotonous screed.

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A health to the Past! A long life to its name!

And here’s to a Future to add to its fame!

J a m es T a f t H a t f i e l d , N orthwestern ’ 83

A N IN IT IA T IO N an ancient little town There stood a school of some renown, Which, thro’ the summer season closed, In rest and quiet had reposed; In rest and quiet void of boys, Unstirred by any sound or noise— Had seemed to wear a solemn frown, As if in anger with the town.

But now, at length, the summer o’er, Its doors are open flung once more; Once more the sound of many feet Dispels its quiet and retreat; Once more the students throng its halls, Once more their laughter rings its walls, Once more the recitation hum Proclaims the college spirit come. /

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T w o weeks, in all the usual ways, Had gone to join the yesterdays, Before the Greeks had clashed in arms, And barbs had learned hellenic charms.

For three good weeks the game was “ rushed,” And barbs of every sort were “ flushed,” And every sort of mettle tried That Grecian skill, as yet, defied; Until all barbs had been allured In every way until secured, W ith one exception, who, as yet, Had not confessed his liking For any special crowd or set Participant in “ spiking.”

The barb, secured, the Betas met T o fix upon a night When this barbarian should get A glimpse at Wooglin’s light.

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The barb, at eve had had his fill O f supper cooked with clubhouse skill, And now, unto his room returned, His mind was far from unconcerned; For thoughts annoying crowded in O f broken head and barked shin; O f coffin, demon, ghost and ghoul; O f precipice and dousing pool; Unnumbered horrors, fancy-dressed, Called up forebodings unrepressed O f things of ill, and then a goat Before his vision seemed to float, Full large and gaunt, and long of horn, W ith hoofs untrimmed and hair unshorn.

By him are all unheeded quite.

The tree-toad in the maple hid, The ceaseless, sawing katydid, The cricket chirping on the sward, Unite in strain by him unheard; For he, enwrapt in thoughts afar, Accompanied by his guitar, Does sing unto his mother dear O f college joys that meet him here. “ They have a thing here that they call Professor, W ho in every branch of learning is a seer, And is of every worn-out story a redresser, And who’ll fill your soul with yearning, mother dear.

And they have another thing they call a Tutor, W ho does try to fill the little Fresh, with fear, And who’s ever trying to say something cute, or T o make a brainy hit, my mother dear.

O r to make a brainy hit That shall drip with pungent wit, And poor Freshy’s crime shall fit, my mother dear.

Fit, my mother— wit, my mother— If one could only fit the wit, my mother dear.

There’s another thing here that they call a Frater, W ho really is the cream of all that’s here; He’s the better genius of the Alma Mater, This fellow of a frat., my mother dear.

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Before a week has passed away in study, He has learned your pedigree for every year, And he’ll ask you, if he thinks you’re anybody, “ Would you like to join my frat.? ” my mamma dear. “ Would you like to join my frat.?

If you don’t, you’ll be a flat.”

And you know you blush at that, my mother dear.

Frat., my mother— flat, my mother— Yes, this frat. it floors you flat, my mother dear.”

His song he scarce had ended, when in a moment more There came a thump that made him jump— A whack upon his door.

Poor barby, fraught with many fears, Puts on his oldest clothes; And now the Betas lead him out T o meet his Grecian foes.

As soon as they have reached the hall, They bind his eyes, and now Our barb, begins to undertake His strange hellenic vow.

And how he fared while going through, He told to me and I to you. “ They bound my eyes so close,” said he, “ That all seemed black as night; And then they led me through a door, And up a long, steep flight O f creaky and unsteady stairs; When, zounds! right there around me There seemed a thousand thunder-claps T o deafen and astound me.

And when the dreadful din had ceased, From out the Egyptian night There came a voice that all increased And added to my fright.

‘Before your claim is good to wear The bonny pink and blue, The first will try your muscle, The second try your will, The third will cater to your taste, And all may do you ill.

M y friend, the trial of strength is first; This is a trial most dread.

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A rope is here which you must climb With all your strength and might, T o reach the upper Grecian world And leave barbarian night.’

They placed a rope within my hands And bade me waste no time; And I, in yield to their commands, Began my upward climb.

You see, I afterwards found out The structure of the thing: The rope ran through a pulley, And the pulley by a ring Hung fastened to a beam o’erhead; Some thirteen feet or more The rope ran down and through a ring Fixed firmly in the floor.

You see, the boys paid out the rope As fast as I could climb : And I, all ignorant of this, Kept climbing on and on Until my strength was nearly gone.

Just then a voice above me said: ‘Bravo! Keep up! keep on ahead!

Full forty feet, my friend, you swing In mid air— not so great A distance; but if you hap to fall, Think what must be your fate! ’ In terror all my strength went out, And, following, a crash and shout: The rope began to yield.

Was I to fall? I strove to climb— In frenzy strove to yell: I clutched at nothing, nothing grasped— The rope gave, and I fell!

I closed my eyes and breathed a prayer, O h ! may my end be quick!

By that time I was on my back Upon a feather tick.

‘Now comes the second test,’ said he, ‘Which is to test you mentally; For this trial you must undergo, ’tis clear, Ere at Old Wooglin’s shrine you can appear.

Three good questions I propound 207

For which answers must be found.

T he question first I ’ll put to you Is, W ere you e’er in love?’

And I bethought and answered ‘Yes,’ When long I ’d hesitated: ‘In love just once, I would confess— Enamoured and elated.’

‘Now for the second matter to reveal: You were in love— how did it feel? ’ And hot and cold by turns I grew, And said, ‘You know this, all of you.’

‘Yes, yes, I know,’ the voice did say: ‘That answer will not do; A ll men are different every way: T ell how it was with you.’

‘In love, what is the feeling?

In love, how does it seem ?’

When she’s away, you’re glum in all; And then at night you dream— You dream of eyes and lips and cheeks Quintessent in their charms; And, ere you know it, you’re awake— The pillow’s in your arms.’

And then, for fear this wouldn’t do, I got inspired, and warmer grew : ‘In love, it is pleasure; in love, it is woe; Now Joy without measure, now pain none can know.

The pain may be pleasure, the pleasure may grow T ill only the pleasantest part you may know. ’T is sweeter than strawberries, sugar and cream— Than maple molasses, or whate’er we deem Most sweet to the taste, it is sweeter than this. ’T is something to have, and ’tis something to miss: T o the lone, weary watcher, the morning’s bright beam; T o the tired, thirsty traveler, the cool, shady stream; T o the fast-sinking sailor, the rescuing bark— None of these have such charms as you have in the spark.

Bells ringing for supper, a story well told, The baby’s first lispings, the jingling of gold, The sound of the fiddle, the note of the dove— None of these have such charms as this being in love.’

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‘W ell said, my barby,’ said the voice; ‘And now for question third: In all this fun, now what was done?

What was it that occurred ?’

Then up spoke I, and did respond With this my answer, lightly conned: ‘I courted and I loved one slily, In manner that was cute and wily.

I used to say to her, “ Ah, there!

Can I come in and call, or is pa there?”

If she answered, “ You bet!”

Then I paid my regret, And said, “ My regards to your ma there.”

But one night her father came in, And soon there was raised a great din, And we made quite a stir— Pa and I, and the cur— And since then I ’ve sought other kin.”

— A song there rose and died away, And then a voice to me did say: ‘Now, friend, the final test is here— A test of strength and w ill; O f strength to bear, and will to dare, And thus the task fulfill.

You heard what has been just now sung: How from a feast our order sprung— A feast, perhaps, not of the kind T o suit the modern dainty mind; But yet we must perpetuate The memory of that feast, And so, you see, each candidate Must have a taste, at least, O f the chief viand on the board When Betas their first triumph scored.

In short, my barby, you must eat A piece of dog’s raw, bloody meat.’

And then, with ceremonial grave, The rites of Betahood they gave.

The oath I took at Wooglin’s shrine, And joys fraternal then were mine; Were mine to keep and to enjoy Without barbarian alloy.

And then a banquet followed there— 209

A fine, substantial, rich affair; And when our hunger was allayed, Then toasts were called, responses made.

And now, a Beta in the throng, I joined them in their hearty song.”

When banquet and when song were done, The sands of night were nearly run: The “ wee sma’ ” hours had passed away, And chanticleers announced the day, When on the morning air rang out, Full loud and clear, the startling shout: P hi— kai— P h i!

Beta— T h e ta — P i !

And loud and clear the echoes rang, Repeating this, the song they sang; And may our hearts with one accord Join in the chorus that was heard: Hurrah for Beta Theta P i!

Hip, hip, hurrah!

May she live on, and never die!

Hip, hip, hurrah!

Until the three stars ever bright, And the refulgent diamond’s light, Dispel the black barbarian night!

Hip, hip, hurrah!

R a l p h P arsons S m i t h , Denison ’88

A N O H IO R E U N IO N P O E M PRELUDE

s w h e n by strange spells a weird necromancer Summons the powers of the earth and the air T o come at his bidding, the skilful entrancer, And work a great wonder while all the folk stare, And quick the swift spirits assemble and hearken, And instantly raise such a terrible blow O f storms that descend and heavens that darken, That beneath them the hapless magician’s laid low; 210

So this, quite unwary, an o’erzealous editor, I preached of reunions, and banquets and such, T ill my list of subscribers became my vast creditor, And vowed I should rue it for writing too much.

And then when at length this occasion was bruited, ’Midst the excellent plannings for pleasure and fun, A certain ambition their cruel minds suited T o find sweet revenge for the business o’erdone.

And thinking it over, they vowed I should show ’em They wouldn’t be trifled with thus any more; And that, if I didn’t evolve them a poem, I shouldn’t have a taste of these dainties, they swore.

W ell, such is my fate, and I ’m sure it’s a warning For being too fertile and rash when I write, And if ever I live through this lesson of scorning, ’T w ill be for the reason I ’ve told you to-night.

When writing a rhyme for a banquet like this, ’Tw as not in my mind a matter amiss T o question what sort of poetical fodder Would gain me the merit of seeming some odder Than the chance run of rhymesters, whose “ crankyturned” verse Continually runs from the worst to the worse. ’Tw as a delicate question, for all of you know it’s A terrible thing to be pestered with poets; So much that the ancients, in order to flat ’em Called them the “ genus irritabile vatum.”

(The younger alumni— by this you will spot ’em— Pronounce it the gay-noos irree-tobble-lay wot-tum.)

A t first I had thought I must write something classic, Like a fossil exhumed from a dim age Jurassic, And spin out some lines on a theme of mythology, T o show my wide learning in ancient philology; Would develop a legend in shaking pentameters O r dactyls and spondees piled into hexameters, And evolve a great hero for all of eternity, Whose fame and vast prowess might boom our fraternity.

But when I had started to follow this streak, I found I could not invoke Wooglin in Greek, 211

And hence, with no muse to lend inspiration, Was forced to abandon this bright lucubration.

(Y o u ’ll note in this instance, if never before, That the muse is a mister, whose aid I ’d implore; But the fact is that this year, the old maids are all out, And many poor bards don’t know what they’re about! ) W ith this disappointment at once I began T o cast my thoughts round for some other fine plan, Whereby I might chance, by some wonderful story, Told in mystical phrase, like a strange allegory, O r under the guise of a modern-day vision, T o trace out a future all bright and elysian, Filled with honors and joys to the verge of satiety, All surely assured for our sacred society.

Before me should wander, in spectral arraying, A vast clan of great men their virtues displaying, And gliding along in a staid single file; A ll wearing the expression of face and the style O f those statues and saints whose appearance suggests That we pleasantly ask them to pull down their vests.

But then came a doubt, and, stopping, I thought, If I try to do this I shall surely get caught, For a plan of this kind in all its formalities, Necessitates, too, I should use personalities; And in filling my roles it would be a great mystery How I ’d ever get on without touching up history.

But most of the men who have made our events Are still in the flesh— and some not far hence; And I ’m rather inclined to think they’d resent Thus being made ghosts of without their consent. “ T u eris Marcellus” ; but ’tis not denied That when that was said poor Marcellus had died, And he of the others was only a sample; Thus setting those after a luckless example W hat a miserable fate, and how a dire curse May alight on the man who is praised up in verse.

This plan given over, there ran through my brain A desire to achieve them some other sweet strain, Wherein I might sing in fit language poetic, O f the sad or the funny, the gay or the pathetic, W rit in some feeling species of rhythm or measure, 212

Whatever was likely to give greatest pleasure.

But at once my poor wits were fairly confounded T o make out a choice where so much choice abounded.

And thinking it over, ’twas hard just to say What measure the feet of my verse should display.

What should I spin them— an ode or a lyric, A ballad, or idyl, or something satiric?

O r to show how completely and well I can master all, Should I offer a classic eclogue or a pastoral?

Just then the bright idea flashed in my mind: I could nicely avoid all censure unkind By taking some brother I know as a standard, And writing some verse to his taste sweetly pandered.

And if I pleased him, why, there’d be no more trouble T o please a whole crowd— just like suiting a double.

But before I had acted on this bright suggestion I was suddenly moved by a very grave question— Do all Betas so closely resemble each other That each of the rest might seem plainly the brother?

And the dish that I serve them, would each of them go it Without asking if ’twas from a different poet?

And if some sort of viand suits one without question Can I warrant the rest will be spared indigestion?

And pondering more on this troublesome task, How then is a Beta?— I finally ask.

Now, if I was ventured a similar query About other Greek tribes, I should wax very merry, And, taking them up as in turn you design them, Without hesitation would quickly define them; For you know, as a rule, that it takes little labor T o draw one’s opinion in full of his neighbor. ’Twould perhaps entertain, but I ’d rather not try it For fear my imprudence might bring on a riot; ’Twould be wise, too, to practice a course calisthenic Before I dare rupture the peace pan-hellenic.

But just to amuse you, or add to your knowledge, I ’ll touch on some types of those most found in college.

And I ’ll add, just to make the comparison apter, That sometimes you’ll find them all in the same chapter.

Now here’s a nice boy who would pass for a saint In some “ pure” institution, where never a taint 213

O f the world or the devil doth enter its walls, And whose goodness and strictness our feeling appalls; Goes to bed at 9:30 and rises at 5, And eats scarce enough to keep him alive; Has no fun, no society, and for exercise walks W ith a prim old professor in classical talks; Studies hard all the time and don’t think he will pass, And finally graduates first in his class; In all branches such an adorable paragon That when he is finished, his wits are all airy gone.

Here’s another, and rather a different fellow, Who, tho’ not very soft, is sometimes quite mellow; Sports good clothes, gets in scrapes that are often quite funny, And makes a grand spread on his governor’s money; W ho thinks “ a good time” the sum of existence, And follows good rules— at considerable distance; Puts his pins every session on different girls, And keeps a choice stock of notes, ribbons and curls; A most popular man and with many a friend— And walks to commencement the next to the end.

And then there’s the man of a stamp that is rarer, Whose broad brow and deep eyes proclaim the bearer O f a mind clear from mists and doubtful alloys, Serene in keen wisdom and calm equipoise; W ho stands high, but not first— in nothing a shirk, And, besides his prescribed tasks, does three times the work; T he stay and the pride of his class when in need And a leader in all things, not seeming to lead.

W ith him stalks the genius, with head high in air, W ho thinks there is nothing on earth he won’t dare; Nor in this high design is his confidence shaken By the record of honors and prizes he’s taken; Writes poetry, essays and things beyond name, Indulges in visions of literary fame; Eager and certain, spurns all the world clear of him, Takes his little degree— and you never more hear of him.

Again there’s the man of the muscular stripe, W ho makes a fine Greek of the physical type, 214

More famed for his brawn than his gifts intellectual, In which his ambitions are less ineffectual; In aught but athletics shows interest quiet And dotes on cold baths and conservative diet; W ho reads every Sunday The Cliffer at length, And performs other feats of endurance and strength; Whose prowess and muscle his comrades appall, And he graduates last in his class, if at all.

After him I may mention a man somewhat rougher, Who, tho’ hardly so strong, is decidedly tougher; A luxurious lounger, whose character might wash But would surely be helped by a thick coat of white-wash; W ho knows all the bars and the Sunday back stairs, And that three of a kind will “ lay over” two pairs; Goes to bed rather early— one— two— three— in the morning, And suddenly graduates home without warning.

O f such, and much more, is the order of Beta, T ho’ my grand summing up might be larger and neater.

And it’s worthy some notice how well and completely Our fraternity molds them so fully and neatly Into one eager kinship, and in them inspires Fraternal affection, and worthy desires T o be true to the truth and to work for the best, And always endeavor to help all the rest.

Whereby it is learned and by each understood, That true life is living for each other’s good.

A strong bond is that which discordant could find them And into one grand, common union could bind them, And this is our pride, that far better than others Our fraternity makes them that noble thing— Brothers.

Brothers! it is because that vow fraternal Has merged in one life many varying lives, That we can sometimes mount the heights supernal And know the rest for which our spirit strives; Are conscious that the aimless, idle yearning T o lessen in some way the world’s great woe Is quickened into thrills of fervor burning, And meets all hearts in sympathetic glow.

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T o rise from self into Renunciation, W ith wide humanity our largess share; Such is our later, nobler consecration— The incarnation of each life’s grand care.

And by this dedication are we chastened O f all the dulling rust of pulseless dream, And into keener, swift intenseness hastened, Fulfilling issues perfect and supreme.

T o leave the shadows of sophistic dreaming, The ethics, logic, and the well-wrought plan How each may bring the glad millenial gleaming, But fails in duty to his fellow man; And from the sloth and passive languors breaking, This higher purpose shall our lives inspire, Whose longings, into finer ardors waking, Shall lift up and ennoble our desire, Bringing our deeper selves in rare subjection T o know a kinship with all human grief, The trust that falters not, the pure affection That works for others’ sorrows sweet relief.

This is the call that stirs our faith devotive, And bids the fountains of the heart ope deep, T ill o’er the shoals where strands the moral motive, The tide of mighty human love shall sweep.

And thus the discords of unrestful longing, Whose jarrings clash and grate from ill-matched keys, In troublous agitations harshly thronging, Are met and quenched in larger harmonies.

And through the clear, pure depths of space aerial, That lie about the sun-lit peaks of time, Floats down the cadence of soft strains ethereal, The melody of life-work all sublime.

C

ham bers

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B a ir d , Jr., Harvard ’ 82

T H E L I T T L E G R E E N SN A K E ( A Parable Dedicated to the Beta Theta Pi Dragon) A

Be not too bold!” The mentors cry, A first-rate hint for Beta Theta Pi: T o illustrate the point my muse rehearses A quaint new fable in her easy verses:

je

bold!

I A snake as green as a snake could be Once dwelt near a brook that ran down to the sea; In all the length of that limpid brook There wasn’t such another quiet nook; But his sly little snakeship had a notion That he could make some stir in the ocean; If he kept on growing, why not be The sly old serpent of the sea ?

But basking oft where the warm sun shone, Admiring to see how much he had grown, He thought what a shame it was that he Could not from this lazy brookside flee; For his sly little snakeship had a notion That he could make some stir in the ocean; If he kept on growing, why not be The sly old serpent of the sea ?

He felt so proud and he grew so fast His clothes got too little for him at last; Another suit he had to have made, ’Tw as stuff that would stretch but never fade; For his sly little snakeship had a notion That he could make some stir in the ocean; If he kept on growing, why not be The sly old serpent of the sea?

He lived by himself beneath a stone, A house just the size for him alone, A cosier place could not be found In all that country for miles around; But his sly little snakeship had a notion 217

That he could make some stir in the ocean; If he kept on growing, why not be The sly old serpent of the sea ?

II He laid him along on a log to rest And looked with contempt at his little nest, His eyes flashed fire and his green scales glowed In wrath that so humble should be his abode; For his sly little snakeship had a notion That he could make some stir in the ocean; If he kept on growing, why not be The sly old serpent of the sea?

Affrighted to see him in such a mood, The fishes hid in the shade of the wood And said they all: “ W e’ll stay in the pool Until his wrath has some time to cool; But ’tis quite too silly, his foolish notion That he could make a stir in the ocean; For he’d know, if he traveled as much as we, W ho is the serpent of the sea.”

The little birds flitted among the leaves And twittered in demi-semi-breves.

They’ve liked few snakes since Adam’s fall, And snakes in wrath they like not at all.

Though his sly little snakeship had a notion That he could make some stir in the ocean; “ W hy, what do we care,” said they, “ let him be The sly old serpent of the sea.”

The frogs hopped up on the opposite bank, And laughed and laughed: “ Oh! Isn’t he a crank!

But don’t say a word; let him go, let him go, ’T is nicer to bathe without him, you know; Let him see what’s in this extr’o’d’n’ry notion That he could make a stir in the ocean; He could not please us better’n to be The sly old serpent of the sea.”

III The wind and the rain raised the brook to a flood And swept the log from its place in the mud; 218

“ Just the thing,” thought the snake, “ I want for a boat, Right out to sea, now, I ’ll easily float; And if I don’t make a deal of commotion, When riding upon the crest of old ocean— I ’ll find out the reason, for I ’m to be The sly old serpent of the sea.”

A ship like a phantom went sailing by, Her tall masts darkling against the sky; The little snake hissed in hate and despair, The log on a billow rose up in the air, And the sailors all cried: “ W e’ve a notion That’s what’s made all the stir in the ocean; Oh! what a monster he must be, The sly old serpent of the sea! ” The wind and the rain gave out at last And moonlight brightened the clouds as they passed: But the waves rolled high on the spurned shore, The little green snake felt the buffetting sore; He regretted too late his youthful notion That he could make a stir in the ocean; For he learned how hard it is to be The sly old serpent of the sea.

Ambition gratified at heavy cost!

The little snake from wave to wave was tossed.

Quod fabula haec docet you divine, For water fresh he thirsted in the brine— Derisive word of learned seaside halls, “ Freshwater” laved our inland college walls; No sal marinum seasoned class-room joke, No sea-breeze ruffled maple, elm, or oak.

You mark the vain impatience of the snake; He was too eager— that was his mistake.

W e’ve learned a lesson from another’s woe And taken half a century to grow.

W e measured staves in many a stubborn bout W ith Alpha Delt, Psi U., the Dickey rout; Nor felt that Learning, heavenly maiden prim, Conferred her favors only at the ocean’s brim.

Descensus facilis— return past hope; For good or ill, we’re down the eastern slope.

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’T is caution, wisdom, self-restraint we need, T o learning’s counsels giving timely heed; Festinantes lente, if the task be hard, Lest by our haste the work should all be marred.

The dignity that fits a scholar best Is no exclusive product, east or west; ’Tis not puffed up, nor does it vaunt itself, Mourns not in poverty, nor boasts of pelf; It envies none the joys it can not reach, It studies silence carefully as speech, It conjugates “ to have” less than the verb “ to be,” And seeks in all some glimpse of deity.

Such dignity, with modesty allied, Shall make us victor— every foeman tried.

But mind— it takes a “ right smart” snake to be The sly old serpent of this eastern sea.

J o s e p h Sa l a t h i e l T u n i s o n ,

Denison ’ 73

B E T A F R IE N D SH IP nascitur, non fit” I oft heard when in college.

I ’m sure you will remember it, As one feigns poetic knowledge And tries to deal in measures fine W ho was not born to write in rhyme.

Yet time forbade a greater bard, And so I said, I ’d try T o tell the truth, I ’d try real hard The Greeks to satisfy W ith jingling, rhyming line.

But, should my effort fail to please, Should I not “ make a hit,” Remember, friends, my opening words, “ Poeta nascitur, non fit.”

Friendship’s my theme. “ A subject trite,” You seem at once to say.

But what has brought us here to-night, If ’tis not friendship, pray?

WTien forced to face the arduous task O f poem-making for the Greeks, oeta

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What better subject could I ask Than friendship, which the Beta seeks?

W ell! ’Twas in the spring of ’39 (If the tale is told aright), When a few true friends of kindred mind Together met one night.

The leader spoke of knighthood old, O f hours in fasting spent, O f vestments white, of spirits bold, Who were with purpose bent T o live a life of love, and long The cause of truth to guard, T o aid the right, to fight the wrong In struggles fierce and hard. “ Ah! did you ever think,” said he, “ O f the vows chivalrous made With bowed head and bended knee When the sword on knights was laid?

I hereby swear in God’s clear light T o be generous, loyal, just, A good and brave and gentle knight, And worthy of the trust O f those in sickness or distress.

The orphan’s rights I will maintain, The widow’s wrong redress, My life keep pure and free from stain, T ho’ temptations hotly press.

All this I swear, God keep me true T o the vows I ’ve made to-night, And may my thoughts, and actions, too, Be ever with the right!”

The age of chivalry is past, The days of knighthood o’er, But the spirit of the vows shall last T ill time shall be no more, And can we not ourselves unite, A small fraternal band, The wrong to fight, to guard the right, And ’gainst dishonor stand ?”

With such words spake our “ pater” Knox, (You’ve all heard of the man) The “ silver gray,” John Reily Knox,

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The patriarch of our clan.

From this birth, then, our order grew, The Beta Theta Pi For which we wear the pink and blue, T he stars and triple tie.

And what has been the secret bond, That has held our brothers fast T o the order of their college days, T h o’ fleeting years have passed, Since, met within the chapter hall, They vied in song and jest, O r joyed in triumphs over all, When a Beta ranked the best?

Was wealth the standard taken then For entrance to our band?

Were students chosen for the power O f gold they could command?

Not so! It was not that, brothers; ’Tw as the power of friendship sweet That bound their hearts together And made them love to meet In Beta’s hall, where sweet songs, blending W ith the glad news of honors won, Told of faith and friendship ending Only when Life’s work is done.

What, brothers, is the boasted worth O f Beta Theta Pi, If it binds not our hearts together W ith love that will not die?

Let friendship be the watchword, then, Wherever Betas go, And added charms ’twill always lend T o the lives of those who know The joys that come when brothers plight W ith bowed head and bended knee, Before the altar’s glowing light, Friendship and fidelity.

F ran c is

W . S h e p a r d s o n , Denison ’ 82

2 22

BETA

M E M O R IE S

ro th ers,

in life ’s glorious m ornin g, W hen the birds took merry flight, A n d the dew-drops shone, adorning A ll things with prismatic light; W hen the sunbeams chased the hours— A n d no greater duty knew—

And the petals of the flowers Donned their garb of brightest hue; W hen the zephyrs kissed the ashes, A nd the leaves all danced with glee, A nd the fountain’s grassy lashes Dropped their tears in modesty, T h en we poured our first libation, A n d the breezes, hurrying by, W hispered of our consecration T o the Beta T h e ta Pi. T h e n w e touched the spring of pleasure W ith a fearing finger-tip,

And there gushed, in wondrous measure, Joyful streams of fellowship; T hen we stood within the mystic Shrine of bonny pink and blue, Read the letters cabalistic A nd their hidden meaning knew.

W e were wont, in those days, brothers, Royally to give the hand, Pledging each to help the others A n d in right united stand.

Like the glasses harmonizing T h at take up the merry note W hich the bow sets trembling, rising From a single crystal throat, W ere our hearts in their relation, And one cry of joy or pain

223

Set them all in quick vibration O f a sympathetic strain.

Arm in arm we walked together T o the dear old chapter hall, Lingering till we wondered whether It were best to leave at all.

Ah, those happy, careless meetings, Ending only with regret!

How the warmth of cordial greetings Tingles in the senses yet!

How we gloried in successes O f a Beta in his class, And applauded the caresses W on from any pretty lass.

How we vowed, in jocose spirit, T o pluck down the very stars, And ate “ dorg” — or something near it— And then smoked our cheap cigars!

How we bent our every muscle Envious fellows to annoy, And at midnight hours to hustle The malicious Barbaroi!

Years have passed since then, my brothers, But, amidst the changing scene, This one spot, above all others, Rests in memory, ever green.

Grief and pleasure, joy and sorrow— Thus they come and thus they go, And the suffering of to-morrow This day’s joy may overthrow.

Steps may falter, locks may whiten, Plodding years fleet-footed grow; Griefs to lessen, loads to lighten Come these thoughts of long ago.

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Springs of joy that once we drank from May have ceased their bounteous flow, Clogged by leaves of care we shrank from In those days of long ago; Or, the hot sun of ambition May have cast its parching rays Where the stream, upon its mission, Bubbled out in other days.

But, tonight, my brothers, bending O â&#x20AC;&#x2122;er the spring we loved of yore, W e will clear the basin, lending Cooling shade to it once more; And the pebbles, parched, half-hidden By the mingled dirt and sand, W ill give forth their waters, bidden By the stroke of memoryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s wand.

Drink we freely of the bubbling, Laughing waters of the spring, And, in brief surcease of troubling, Fill our clinking cups and sing.

Doff the titles trailing after Names that were themselves too long In those days when joyous laughter Mingled with the Beta song.

Don the nicknames that remind us O f those happy days of yore, That the midnight hour may find us Banqueting as Greeks once more.

Let the genial nature, flowing In the ruts of other days, Find expression in the glowing Notes of loyal Beta praise!

W e will sing of the diamond gleaming Within the unclosed wreath alway, 225

And the trio of stars that are beaming W ith a golden and glorious ray.

W e will sing of the friendship we plighted As we gazed on that beautiful sceneâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; The palace all brilliantly lighted, And the untraveled mountain between.

W e will sing of the vanishing vision, An emblem of every-day tasksâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; The palace the prize, and ambition The light that the perils unmasks.

W e have climbed up the untraveled mountain, W ith our eyes on the palace above; W e have reached it and sat by the fountain, And have drank from the goblets of love.

Then fill up the oft-emptied chalice That pledged us as friends till the last, And drink death to all envy and malice And long life to that beautiful past!

Drink deep to the honor of Beta, The first of the stars in our sky!

Drink next to the glorious Theta, And then to the glittering P i!

These three are the stars that allied us In the bonds of a brotherly love, And ever shall faithfully guide us T o the beautiful vision above.

O sman C astle H ooper,

Denison *79

T H E M E A N IN G O F B E T A T H E T A PI a

solemn word in parting,

May we look beyond the eating O f the good things set before us, Look and catch the deeper meaning O f this banqueting and talking.

Life, at best, is but a passing 226

But a journey to a country Whereof we know not the boundaries, But a state of preparation For existence in that country.

W e believe they make the better Pilgrims to that unknown country, Have a better preparation For the life in that far country, Who, in this life, strive to render Unto everyone his just due, And who do their best to follow The command laid on each brother, “ Bear ye one another’s burdens As yourself so love your neighbor.”

So, to help us bear the burden And to make the burden lighter And to help us find our neighbor Whom we might love as a brother, Once upon a time a dreamer Dreamed a dream and saw a vision, (Pater Knox we love to call him Father of each loyal Beta.)

Once upon a time, a way back In a year removed from this one By that portion of a hundred Years that’s measured by three-quarters, Time whereof no living person Has a memory that can span it, Pater Knox, the Beta founder, Dreamed a dream and saw a vision.

Saw three stars and diamond gleaming Saw three mystic Grecian letters Saw a laurel wreath above them Resting on the sombre background O f a shield. Such was the vision.

And as Joseph in the olden Tim e we read of in the Scriptures Was enabled to interpret Hidden meanings of his visions, So our Pater Knox was able, Able to translate the meaning, Meaning of his wonder vision.

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And he summoned others to him, Youth of strength and earnest purpose Told them all about his vision, Told them all the hidden meaning O f the shield and what it stands for, Told them all about the diamond, Laurel wreath and stars refulgent And the mystic Grecian letters.

Told them that content and blessing And approval of his conscience Would be sure to come to every Man who took the vows and kept them And who worthily wore the emblem, Wore the badge and bore the name of, Bore the name of Beta Theta Pi, and followed all its teachings.

And the band of faithful Brothers, Whom the seer of the vision Gathered ’round him to relate it, Caught the spirit and the lesson Caught the vision’s inspiration Swore allegiance to each other And became a band of brothers Whom the heart can e’er depend on.

Then they gathered others to them Youth of faith and sacred honor Showed them how to eat the canine, Told them all about Old Wooglin, Wooglin with his eye unsleeping Watching every Beta brother Watching, smiling on each brother Whom he sees make firm endeavor T o uphold the name of Beta In the forefront of1life’s battle.

So this band of small beginning Grew and spread and waxed in number T ill throughout our land of freedom Hardly town so unimportant Can be found, but what has numbered In its useful population One or more of Beta brothers.

2 28

Now whenever tried and true men Betas as are here assembled Meet together at a banquet, Like this feast which we have eaten, W e enjoy this passing moment And the flow of wit and banter.

But, far better than the feasting Better far than wit and humor, Is the drawing close together Is the tugging at the heart strings, Is the fellowship, unslipping Which will help us on our journey T o that undiscovered country, From whose boundaries no traveller E ’er returns to tell the story.

May this Beta trust and friendship Ever bind us close together T ill we leave our earthly stations T ill we go from life and friendship, One by one as we are called hence, “ In the glory of the sunset In the purple mists of evening, T o the region of the west wind O f the Northwest wind, Keewaydin T o the islands of the Blessed T o the kingdoms of Ponema T o the Land of the Hereafter.”

S a m u e l S h a w P a r k s , Amherst ’ 88

T H E L E G E N D O F B E E -T A H while I tell you the tale of Noonka, the Indian father, Noonka, the prophet divine, a light to his brave-hearted people.

Calm was the Summer night, with the moon and stars clear shining; Rustled the breeze in the tree-tops, whispering love to the leaflets.

Under a giant tree near the silvery strand of Lake Erie, Close by a babbling brook that came from a shadowy ra­ vine, is t

229

Lay an Indian father, his faithful watch-dog beside him.

There, ’mid the shadows that played on the greensward damp with the night-dew, Slept the venerable prophet, the moonbeams glancing about him.

Over the murmuring waves of the restless waters of Erie Came the gentle west wind, cool, and sweet, and frag­ rant: Came and lifted the hair from the brow of the venerable father, Fanned and kissed his cheek, and hurried along on its journey.

High o’er the rolling waters gleamed in the heavens the north star, Just to the left gleamed brighter three stars with a ra­ diant glory; Slowly the night wore on and the prophet was peacefully sleeping, Slowly the moon went down and the light died out on the billows.

Softly washed the waves as they brake o’er the shining pebbles, Whispering mournful thoughts as they glided back to their mother.

Thus, in the deep’ning shadows, the venerable father slumbered,— Slept till the eastern sky was red with the coming sun-god.

Then, when the bands of gold were spreading along the horizon Painting with living fire the clouds that were lazily drift­ ing, Waked the Indian father, and gazed on the beauties about him.

Hearked to the murmuring brook and the joyful song of the wild birds.

Peace came over his soul and his heart was buoyant with gladness.

Calmly he stretched his limbs, and thanks to the Mighty Spirit Rose to his lips for all the beauties that lay about him.

Then his eyes espied his young son coming to meet him,— Coming to lead him in where the venison sweet was roasting.

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“ Come, dear father,” he said, “ to the savory meal of venison, Game that my arrow brought down in the shadowy depths of the forest.”

Noonka, the prophet, smiled, and blessed his beloved de­ scendant— Smiled, but he did not rise, for the weakness of death was upon him.

Stretching out his hand, he beckoned his dear son beside him, Lovingly stroked his head, and softly thus addressed him: “ Hearken, my son beloved, to the words your father speaketh.

During the stillness of night, when darkness was gathered about me, Came a wonderful vision, of spirits of light and wisdom.

Struck with wonder, I looked, and a voice like the west wind addressed me: ‘Noble and venerable Noonka, hear what the Great Spirit sayeth; W ell do you know the legend, handed down by your fathers, How in an age far distant, a time that is nearly forgotten, Dwelt with the people of earth a god, the spirit of Friend­ ship.

Bee-tah, the people called him, the bond that bindeth to­ gether; Peace he taught, and kindness, and aid to the poor and needy, Then on earth was peace, and harmony ’mong the nations, Children of nature all, a family loving and happy.

Many years he lived, but at last his end was approaching.

Feebly he walked, and faintly spoke ’mong his dearly loved people.

Often he spoke of a time far off in the distant future, When once more on earth he would dwell with a chosen people.

Finally then one eve, when the night-wind moaned through the tree-tops, Calmly he passed away to the realms of the shadowy country.

Noonka, thou truth-speaking prophet, receive now the word of his coming.

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Not many years in the future, thy people will pass from the living, Noble and free and brave, they will pass from the haunts of the wild deer.

Forest and grove and stream will know them no more in their glory.

All the bubbling springs that flow from the shady hill-side Then will be eyes of nature weeping the loss of her chil­ dren.

Then will come a great people exalted in learning and wisdom, Them the Great Spirit will favor, and show them the wonders of nature.

Villages many and great the wonderful people will build them, Engines of wonderful make will swiftly work at their bidding.

Marvelous things will be that now must be kept from thy knowledge.

Many a temple of stone this powerful people will build them, Where they may study the works of Him who rattles the thunder, Carries the sun and moon and the twinkling stars of heaven Balanced upon his shoulders, and falters not in his jour­ ney.

Down to these temples of wisdom the spirit of Bee-tah is coming, Coming to dwell with the men who will proudly be known as his children.

Then will the spirit of peace, of kindness and aid to the needy Dwell in the hearts of men, and their souls will be purer and better, Blessed they who thus will be given the name of dear Beetah; Better than gold is that which the blessing of Bee-tah will bring them.

Higher and nobler will be the aim of the life of his chil­ dren, Purer and better the heart that is filled with the spirit of Bee-tah.’

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Then the vision was gone and the darkness of night was about me.”

Thus did the prophet speak, and his voice grew faint as he finished.

Knelt by his side his son, and received his dear father’s last blessing; Then as the sun glanced down thro’ the waving boughs of the tree-tops, Lighting the prophet’s face with a beautiful ray of glory, Noonka sank back on the greensward, raising his eyes to the heavens, Smiled in peace and joy, and was gone to the land of his fathers.

So l o n L o u e r , Western Reserve ’ 86

r>

T H E F U L L -O R B E D G R E E K

is no nobler product than the full-orbed Greek, The flower and crown of all the race he stands, The true embodiment of human power and excellence.

As towers the lofty mountain peak above The changing clouds and looks upon the storms be­ neath, Unmoved, serene and ponderous in its mighty grandeur, So towers aloft the figure of the full-orbed Greek.

The valleys may not always see the eagle’s crag, Nor catch continuously the glint of light That rests upon the summit of the snow-clad mount; The mists of lower levels ofttimes hide The majesty and might of sun-crowned heights Whose stately forms do pierce the empyrean And whose familiars are the stars.

Yet stands the mountain thus thro’ all the years, Deep rooted in the bowels of the earth And reaching up beyond the lightning’s play— A fixed, eternal bulwark ’gainst the fierce assaults O f raging elements and the giant forces of the air— A massive thing whose offspring is security, Whose head is circled with the jewels of the sky And whose presence fills the soul with awe.

So stands the full-orbed Greek among his fellow men.

It may not be to common eyes he seems thus formed, HERE

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Since common eyes see not beyond their own; A man’s ideals fix the summit of his gaze, And he whose mind is filled with selfish things, Whose soul is closed to lofty purposes and aims, W ho is content to be a cipher in the human sun, Hides from himself the shining forms of those W ho rise majestic on the wings of bridled powers And stamp themselves the giants of their race.

It matters not, if common clay be blinded thus.

Such men there are, true full-orbed Greeks, Deep rooted in the welfare of their kind, Whose minds lay hold on thoughts and things above And yet deal daily with the common things of life; W ho love their race and gladly give themselves and all T o bless that race and lift it to a plane Whose level meets the level of the perfect race; Fixed bulwarks ’gainst the blows of wrong and error, Massive in their strength, in stature giantlike, Unswayed by prejudice and, since beyond the power of bribe, Unchangeable in purpose and unsnared by tempting lures.

I hold it to be truth that He who holds within The hollow of his hand the universe, W ho formed the firmament and guides the stars Forever in their mighty sweep thro’ space And saith to great Orion thus and so, W ho sets the bounds the planets may traverse And bids the seasons come and go, Leaves naught to chance respecting man, the crown And highest sum of all created things.

In God’s eternal plans He gives to man a part In keeping with man’s character and destiny; God loves mankind and His expressed delight Is thus to dignify and honor man.

It matters not so much what part a man doth play In God’s great plans, but how he plays that part, That is the vital thing, the essence of it all; The honor comes not from the part performed, But from the doing well the task assigned.

T he structure is the thing and men are instruments x T hro’ which God works to consummate the whole.

The builders finish their appointed work today: Tomorrow they depart; but God’s designs go on,

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Nor cease until the structure is complete.

The finite may not comprehend the infinite, Else would man be God and God be not.

That which to man oft seems the lesser thing T o God may be the greater far, and that which man Declares of no concern, or mayhap fails to see, May in Godâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s sight of highest, deepest import be.

God grasps the whole: man sees at best but part.

And so it is ofttimes that they who do The most on earth for God and fellow men, T o other men seem doing least of all.

T o such obscurity is void of thorns, T o such life is no jest, nor yet an idle dream; Resolved to act their part as doth befit Copartners in the plan divine, with steadfast aim Unswerving they pursue their God-appointed way Until their task is ended and their race is run.

Such, too, are full-orbed Greeks and fit to stand With heavenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s noblest beings since the world began; Success achieved is theirs, and who achieves success, As measured by the rightful standard of eternity, Approves himself a man and wins the smile of God. What is success? I hold success doth come to him W ho uses brain and brawn so far as in him lies, W ho does the best he may the things he finds to do; W ho keeps in touch with high and holy things That he may better master common things; W ho trusts himself, knows self-denial, keeps his poise.

W ho while he works doth work with all his might, And while he plays doth play with equal vim ; W ho gives self-interest a safe and proper rein, And yet unceasing strives to make this world A better and brighter world in which to live; W ho is no dreamer, no recluse, no misanthrope, Is never careless, unconcerned, or indolent; W ho holds it needless and unjustified, Unmanly, base, to trample others down O r cunningly withhold from them their due That he may thereby rise to greater heights; W ho has withal a purpose fixed and true, A definite, determined, deathless aim, not at Success itself, but at those things which being done Create success and place upon his brow the crown.

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In public life, in letters and in art, In medicine and law, theology and trade, In education’s ranks, in war, in peace, The problem is the same— to aim not at success, But at the things whence come success.

Most happy he who in the doing of those things Seeks wisdom from above and has as guide Him who is named the Blessed Paraclete!

W ho thus essays to shape his character and deeds, Has solved the problem of this life, no matter what His fellow men may say or think respecting him.

T h o’ all his weaving seems but tangled threads And ragged patchwork to the eyes of men, The light of heaven shall reveal the other side And show in all its comeliness the pattern which A master workman’s skillful hand has wrought.

So plans and toils thro’ all his life the full-orbed Greek.

Behold him in his youth at learning’s seat, Alert and strong in body and in mind, A sharpened tool that keeps its edge and grows More sharp and keen by striking other steel; Behold him wear the badge and bear the name of Greek, His heart aflame and all aglow with that pure fire First kindled in the bosom of the first-born Greek.

Into his life there comes a new-found joy, And he is knit to other souls with cords that bind As one thro’ all the years the hearts and minds of those W ho fondly cherish and exalt fraternal ties; Thenceforth he bears the sacred name of brother And he is linked with those who shape their lives In consonance with those benign commands Which Greeks delight to follow and obey.

New aspirations come and his ideals change; He strives no more alone to win an honored place, But finds himself in touch with kindred souls Whose helpful sympathy and brother love Enfold him like the velvet petals of the rose.

Thus heartened and thus helped, he executes His tasks and leaves his Alma Mater’s halls Equipped and ready for the sterner tasks of life.

Behold him thenceforth wheresoe’er his lot be cast; Mark how his training fits him for the race, How he runs on while others slack their pace.

2 36

It may not be his privilege to reach the goal— Life is uncertain and no man may count His years or days on earth before they come; But this is true, that while he runs the real Greek runs Like one who feels that victory at last is sure.

He may not be the swiftest in the race, And gaudy colors may not draw to him the gaze O f those who watch the racers in their rounds; But this is true, he swerves not ever from the course, Content to run without applause or notice from The thoughtless throngs who line the way, If so be that his pace spurs on and helps Another in the race to gain the goal.

It is the gaining of the goal for which he strives; If gained by him, then well and good it is; If by another, still ’tis well and good, For in his soul he knows it is God’s will The goal be gained, it matters not by whom.

Is art or science where his race is run?

Lo, he is in the foremost ranks of those W ho labor for the good of all mankind.

Is it his part in life.to fill a humble place?

Is he an artisan, or is his place the mart?

If so, he is a man and bears a manly part, Has he to do with practical affairs so-called?

Then is he found in equal company with those Who shape and execute the business of the world.

Is it his lot that he is favored and becomes Possessed of wealth, that riches be the fruit O f his activity, the outcome of his toil?

Then is his wealth to him naught but a sacred trust, Philanthropist and benefactor then is he.

Is law his chosen field? Then is he first of all The one who yields obedience to law, and scorns T o misinterpret it that he may thereby gain; T o him his country’s laws are sacred and supreme, And on that plane he dwells, an honor to The great profession which he loves.

Is his the healing art? Then all his energies Are bent to mitigate the ills bequeathed to flesh, His one great care the welfare of his race.

Is statecraft where his sphere in life is found?

Then mark his breadth of mind, his comprehensive grasp

237

O f public questions and of large affairs; His hand upon the helm, the Ship of State sails on, Past reefs and shoals and wrecks of other ships, Unharmed and unimpeded in its course.

Is he an educator? Then behold a man Whose potency for good begins with youth, Survives maturity and ends not with age; T o train and strengthen other minds, to sow The seeds of industry and plant the germs Whence come the flowers of manliness and worth— These are the tasks the full-orbed Greek performs, If in that noble field his lot is cast.

Is it the sovereign will of God that he be called T o preach the everlasting gospel to the race?

T o stand between the living and the dead And point the way to God and righteousness?

The full-orbed Greek responds, “ Lo, here am I ! ” His talents and his time, his thoughts, his energies, His life, and all he has he gladly gives That he may keep inviolate his trust.

T h o ’ sacrifice and self-denial be his lot, Tho* disappointments come and barriers are reared T o block his path and turn him from his course, He falters not, but with unflagging zeal And purpose fixed he presses on until His work is done and he is called above.

Through all the years of life he walks with God, A type of manhood which the angels fain would be.

Such is the character and life and worth O f him who bears the name of full-orbed Greek.

If honor, place and power come thus to him, It is because he strives with all his might T o do the things which he is called to do; And he is called to do such things because His eyes are open and he seeks for such.

He feeds his soul not on his own exalted state, But on the blessed consciousness of duty done; He looks beyond himself for satisfaction, And he finds it in the thought that he has wrought The things he knows are pleasing in God’s sight.

If, after all his struggles and his aims, He fails to triumph in the eyes of men, He murmurs not, but is content to wait 238

The final judgment of the last assize.

In conversation pure, in mental stature great; In purpose lofty, and in action sane; In sympathy and love wide as the race; Possessed of everything that makes for excellence, The full-orbed Greek in truth and right is that Great masterpiece of God, a full-orbed man. ’ 78 (Read at the Sixtieth Anniversary of the DePauw Chapter.)

M e l v i l l e W i n a n s M i l l e r , DePauw

F R A T E R N IT Y J r \ n l o s t Arcadian days, Ere grief beset the young world’s sylvan ways, W hat was the rarest thing The bright gods brought from their far wandering T o win man’s grateful praise?

Sweet was the boon of Spring,— O f orchard boughs where foamy blossoms cling, O f clear skies deep and blue W ith circling swallows ever slanting through On wild, ecstatic wing.

A godlike gift the thrush, Whose lyric voice greets the young morning’s flush From a glad golden throat, And with the fading day, in tender note Flutes thro’ the twilight hush.

Joyous a tale well told O f war and love, and witching legends old Long come from oversea T o make still poppied summer hours flee, And nights of firelit cold.

Song was a largess rare, And clang of strings upon the throbbing air; All music’s poignancy, Keen-sounding in the bugle’s battle glee O r chanted in a prayer.

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Blessed the gift of toil, The joy of winning earth’s eternal spoil: T o bind the sheaves, to hew The towering pine and thrust the plowshare through The odorous, teeming soil.

Ah, let our strivings end!

When all is done, of boons the gods may send T o us who come and go, There yet remains to make life gleam and glow This chiefest gift— a friend.

T o one, joy may betide; But treads a chosen comrade at our side, Lo, straight a fairer May, And bird and song and tale, and toil’s long day Hold sweetness multiplied.

Hail then, fraternity, Within whose gates no two can strangers be!

Here blooms the magic rose, And all who walk this scented garden-close Have brotherhood in fee.

Here burns love’s altar-flame; Beside it youth, eternally the same; For when love’s self appears, Like cast-off mantle drop the cumbering years And age is but a name.

And distance is but thought When men have found what they have always sought; See now, I take your hand,— And in the smile of this enchanted land A thousand miles are nought!

W e meet, and straight we part; But we are touched by some sweet subtle art, And go we east or west, The thrill of friendship stirs within each breast And binds us heart to heart.

Does faith too swiftly run That sees in brotherhood the spell begun 240

Across wide lands to reach, T o draw league-sundered cities each to each And keep a nation one ?

Brother, look up with me!

O ’erhead the Triad Stars shine tremblingly; W ith Beta roses wound, The Mystic Circle drops its gleaming round From sea to flashing sea!

W i l l i a m L u c iu s G raves,

Ohio State ’ 93

T H E B E T A S IN B O H E M IA stands no longer deep y In snow, but budding to the spring; Where the boy Flaccus lay asleep On Vultur’s side, the doves take wing; \

oracte

Bandusia’s fountain, crystal clear, Leaps to Apollo’s morning kiss And Faunus hails the youthful year On thy green slopes, Lucretilis!

Come, brothers, let us follow where The smiling, short, gray poet trod, Hark! Aufidus rolls on the air And headlong Anio gems the sod, Beneath this ilex, Tyndaris, Her classic beauty all aglow, Sings to her lute of Circe’s kiss— A love-song of the long ago.

Is this Bohemia? Aye, at last; That moon, that nightingale we know— Now Tim e and Care go laughing past Upon the fountain’s rhythmic flow.

Here come the loves of other days— Yea, even the dead whom we hold dear; Here every poet wears the bays And every warrior shakes the spear.

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High o’er this vale thy cold white star Oh, Destiny, stay for tonight; Fame, from thy temple shining far Blot out for us the garish light.

Tomorrow we’ll attack the height, Brave a new wound for every scar, W age a new battle for the right And hitch our wagons to the star!

Tonight— we love to linger most Among the roses, ’neath the vine, Now, brother Betas, drink a toast: Here’s to the Days of Auld Lang Syne.

Washington-Lee ’ 75 (New York banquet, February 23, 1900.)

John Pa u l Bocock,

B U R IA L O F J O E L B A T T L E had raised her frightful form Like prairie fire fanned by the storm, O r cannon’s roar filled all the land, Miami’s sons formed friendly band.

Chamberlain, Lewis, Clinton Ross, Found friendship gain for all their loss.

RE w a r

Among those spirits, light and free, Came one young man from Tennessee: His strong, good points I fain would tell, No wonder that all loved him well; Light, graceful form; dark, piercing eyes, O f pleasing voice, of medium size; Though but a stripling when at school, He looked like soldier born to rule.

Our college work was ended, W e left Miami’s halls; Blest be the memory of those friends W e met within her walls.

The storm of war had broken, Dark clouds veiled all the land; 2 42

Friend against friend had chosen T o wield death-dealing brand.

In the stubborn fight at Shiloh, The South had odds to spare; Her troops were in perfect order, Ours scattered everywhere.

But Western men with hand and brain Are not disposed to yield, And bravely must the foemen fight W ho drives them from the field.

When Johnson charged on Hulbert’s lines, The cypress clashed against the pines; Three times before a charge was made

By Confederate Tennessee brigade; Now Albert Sidney Johnston comes, Mid cannon’s roar, ’mid roll of drums; Advancing now, anon fall back, Hulbert recedes from fierce attack; There, fighting bravely, fighting well, Great Albert Sidney Johnston fell; And there amid death-dealing rattle Fell Southern knight, young Joel Battle.

That evening when the dews were damp, John Lewis sought me at our camp; He spoke with voice refined by sorrow O f duty to be done to-morrow, And, in his quiet way, he said, “ I think we found Joe Battle dead.”

Although our ranks by death were serried, The friend and class mate must be buried, For in that group that loved him so No man would dare to call him foe.

Three adjutants from different states Met ’round that lowly bed; T w o from the North were living, One from the South lay dead.

There amid the gathering shadows Met we three Miami boys— Clinton Ross, of Indiana; John C. Lewis, Illinois; John R. Chamberlain, of Ohio;

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College friends and mates were we, Met to bury Joel Battle, Adjutant 20th Tennessee.

None who knew would fail to know him.

W ith a smile upon his face, Finger pointed, lips half parted, His was symmetry and grace.

Never thought we in that presence His opinions we must slight; He, like one who did his duty, Died believing he was right.

There he lay in princely beauty, His white brow in death was damp; Loved by foeman like a brother, Buried from a Northern camp.

There amid the somber shadows, On that dark ensanguined plain, Buried deep by loving foemen, T ill God’s trump sounds not in vain, Sleeps the warm-hearted Battle T ill the King returns to reign.

J o h n C a l v i n L e w is ,

Miami ’60

A R U B A I Y A T O F B E T A T H E T A PI

I I

7a k e , for the sun has traveled through the night,

✓ His sleep bedecked with dreams of college bright, And now, a freshman, on the campus strikes A match to set his new-bought pipe alight.

II Before the chapel bell to silence died, Methought a voice without the frat house cried, “ When all the world matriculates today W hy nods the drowsy rushing gang inside?”

IV Now the new year revives the rushing fires And fiercely glows each chapter’s fond desires, 244

While every loyal Greek, from morn till night, Talks, argues, pleads, spends money and perspires.

V Hiram indeed is gone with all his clothes, And “ Shorty” wanders, whither no one knows, But many a booby can be whipped in line And many a freshman to the chapel goes.

V II Come, fill the dates, and in the corner fling Your books,— this is no time for studying.

For spiking day is nearing, and e’en now W ith Alpha Delt the freshman’s on the wing.

IX Each fall a hundred freshmen brings, you say?

Yes, but where are the finds of yesterday?

And this same term that brings us Briggs and Brown May take Jones, Smith and Robinson away.

X V II The handsome youth we set our hearts upon Smiles at our artful pleading— and anon While we are saying “ Gee, this is a cinch,” O ff with the Phi Psis or the Sigs has gone.

X III Some for the stars of football pant; and some Sigh for the sons of millionaires to come.

But, as for us, let cash and credit go; Give us good fellows who can make things hum.

XX And this confiding youth whose tender green Is made the butt of many a campus scene, Ah, look him over closely, for who knows— Perhaps another Ade lurks there unseen.

X X V II Myself, a freshman, blissful hours spent With rival frats and heard great argument About alumni rolls; but in the end W ith those who laughed at all my jokes I went.

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XXVIII W ith them the seeds of knowledge did I sow, W ell watered with much beer to make them grow And in the end this was the grain I reaped: The knowledge of how much I did not know.

XXX What, without asking, hither hurried whence ?

And, without asking, whither hurried hence?

Ah, many a bid upon the spiking day, Must pay the freshman for this insolence.

XXXI Out through the village at a lively gait I traveled once, blind-folded, to my fate, And many a knout I tested by the road, Nor sat for days, thereafter, when I ate.

X X X II There was a club from which I could not flee; There was a mask through which I could not see; Some little scufflings at the outer door And then— old Wooglin was revealed to me.

X X X IV The while with buffetings I yet did burn I journeyed from the lips of Greeks to learn: “ Live for the love of those who trust you here; Live,— for a greater love you cannot earn.”

X X V II O ft have I watched a Junior by the way, Thumping a luckless neophyte who lay In cords before him and have heard the wretch Breathe humbly: “ Gently, brother, gently, pray.”

X II A modest cottage ’neath the campus brow; A ruddy light; a Beta dorg; and thou, M y brothers tilting up the roof with song— Ah, college life were paradise enow.

X V II Think in the battered chapter building, gray, Where night too oft is blended into day, 246

How senior after senior smoked his pipe, Abode his destined years, and went his way.

X V III They say that still the weary fathers keep The college gods who gloried and drank deep.

And as for Blinks, the Latin shark— the world Roars in his ears but cannot break his sleep.

X X II While some we knew— the handsomest and best That ever with conditions have been blest, Have drunk too deeply from the cup of ease And still their sole ambition is to rest.

LV You know, my friends, with what a brave carouse I raised the devil in our chapter house, Divorced old Mathematics from my mind And took the merry funnel gang to spouse.

LVI For quadrant and equation, rule and line, My patient father many a check did sign.

Yet, though I bathed in learning’s fountain, I Was never deep in anything but stein.

L IX The stein that can, with sureness absolute, The efforts of a dozen deans confute, And from the brain with laughter can drive out, Greek, Latin, mathematics, and square root.

L V III And lately through the veil of years agape, Within my dreams there came a zig zag shape And bade me taste the fruit of those four years I ’d spent in college— lo ! it was the grape.

L V II Ah, but this knowledge, I have heard you say, Strews only rocks along tomorrow’s way.

But, in the fever-blooded youth of life, What counts tomorrow ’gainst a fair today?

24 7

L X IV Strange, is it not, that of the myriad who Pass wonder eyed, the college mazes through, Not one can warn these youngsters of the road— Faith, they all see it and must travel too.

L X X X II As, under cover of departing day, The students from the campus went their way, I lingered, near a small barbarian group In hope, perchance, to hear what they might say.

L X X X III Barbs of all sorts and sizes— great and small; Handsome of face and homely to appall: And some well met and merry were, and some Looked out upon the world with thoughts of gall.

L X X X IV Said one among them: “ Must we then, in vain, W ait out the years still hoping to be ta’en?

Must we creep, lone and friendless, into school And, lone and friendless yet, creep out again?”

LXXXV Then, said a second: “ What, though we employ W it, worth and wisdom to deserve this joy, Must we to outer darkness be condemned By one small blackball from a peevish boy?”

LXXXVI After a silence still another spake; A rough hewn student of ungainly make; “ They sneer at me because my feet are large.

Do they not care then if my brain’s awake? ” L X X X V II Then spake a little junior, waxing hot; (He was, perhaps, the ablest of the lot; ) “ W e lead in honors and in college life; W hat is it, pray, of theirs that we have not? ” L X X X V III “ W hy,” said another, “ I have heard them tell That one may walk the primrose path to hell, 248

Loaf, drink, carouse, neglect his manhood— pish— If he’s a good fellow, it will all be well.”

L X X X IX “ W ell,” murmured one, a youth of earnest eye, “ With long hard study I ’ve grown somewhat dry.

But soak me in that same goodfellow juice, Methinks I might be taken bye and .bye.”

xc Then, while the barbs in sorrow thus were speaking The man came by whose vote they all were seeking, And yet, instead of hailing: “ Brother, brother,” They hung their heads and dumbly past went sneaking. *

*

*

X X IV Ah, make the most of college days you spend ’Ere to the dust of business you descend, Dust into dust to turn and thence to live, Sans song, sans stein, sans roughhouse and sans friend.

XLV ’T is but a heavenly breath, to earth addressed; That chapter room, wide open to the west.

And when, in cap and gown, you have gone forth, Some freshman takes the nook that you loved best.

X C IV Indeed, indeed, returning oft, of yore, I swore. But was I busy when I swore?

For then came spring and desk piled high with work M y fond laid plans again in pieces tore.

xcv Fraternity it was thy joyous spell That stole the prizes that I sought— ah well, I wonder what the tomes of college hold One half as precious as the Beta yell.

C Loved mystic circle, far across the plain, Singing the good old songs with might and main O ft will you form with fervent clasp while one Sighs for his ’customed place— and sighs in vain.

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Cl And when once more you gather, class by class And lovingly o’er Beta’s grandeur pass, Remember those who keep the watch alone Still drink her glory in a brimming glass.

G e o r g e F i t c h , Knox ’97

A T O A S T T O T H E F R A T E R N IT Y ow,

boys ,

please come to o rd er,

You must have had your fill; Y ou’ve eaten all the courses There were upon the bill.

I know the landlord wishes You had dined a la carte, However, that’s his fun’ral, W ith which we have no part.

It’s time, too, for the speeches, But ere we shall begin, Please settle up your reck’ning; Come, quick; plank down your tin.

Now the assessment’s levied, Come let us whoop her up In honor of old Wooglin And of his bobtail pup.

And likewise of the Beta girls, What don’t we owe to them, A tip we give our rivals; “ Oh, cherchez vous la femme.”

And let us sing the old songs, W e sang in days gone by— But first just wet your whistles, I know your throats are dry.

The landlord’s bowl aflowing, The lad who fondly sips 250

The cider gently trickling Down his fair sweetheart’s lips.

The fight of Fresh and Sophie, Which they did so prolong They didn’t go home till morning, So word was passed along.

The pollywog and bull frog And Mary’s little lamb, T o say naught of the teacher, W ho didn’t care a -----The girl who got the kisses And who told of the same; That was the very reason She never changed her name.

W ho don’t join in the singing This thing he’d better do, Just doctor for his liver And take a pill or two.

Now boys, before we leave here, I have a toast to make, In which I know you’ll join me, So all, your glasses take.

Here’s to our sacred order, T o Beta Theta Pi, And to her loyal members W ho’ve raised her standard high.

May she ne’er be a’lacking Men like these here to-night, W ho’d scorn to do a mean thing O r one that isn’t right.

W ho’ve made the name of Beta Respected and renowned; A synonym for friendship Through all this world round.

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Then here is to all the Betas— There may be better men— But I have never met them, So here’s to them again.

F rank W

a d sw o rth

D o o l i t t l e , Colgate ’ 83

A R E M IN IS C E N C E O F T H E P A S T ^ ^ wonder why it is I ’m called “ A reminiscence of the past” ; A t such a name I stand appalled, For I ’m as young as you at last.

You believe it not? Just try me on A t football or some other game, I will, in play, by morrow’s sun Engage, and beat you all the same.

Think not the alumni’s zeal is cold, W e view the past with gratitude.

Think not that we have grown too old T o wish our “ dorg” a latitude As broad as friendship’s wide domain, As deep as ocean’s pearly bed, As strong as hope’s bright golden chain, That Betas may with fortune wed.

Though life to me has pleasant been I cannot say as others do, I ’d like to live those years again; For I have lived it nearly through.

And once is long enough for me T o learn the lesson of my day.

I do but ask that strength may be T o guide me in the Beta way.

I never left a Beta hall, Nor parted with my brethren kind, 252

But that I felt a closer call T o live a purer life, to find O f human joy and hope the fount, The avenues of life to seek, The hills of truest faith to mount— The conduct of a perfect Greek.

I hope in yonder world we’ll find A Beta home for you and me, Where innocence shall ever bind Our hearts in pure fraternity.

And now, my Beta brethren kind, Let pleasure have her sway to-night; As we have goodly things in mind So may our “ dorg” display his might, And make this joyous time and place A reminiscence through each year That is to come, that we may face Some sterner things without a fear.

C h a r l e s H e n r y C o l l i e r , Ohio ’ 63

A R H Y M E O F T H E T IM E I

jl v/

a , mv/uwot x n y

ixic^

As one who cometh rather late, And humbly pats his hollow pate, After the song sublime.

II May happy fate attend this date, And be most fair and kind; Let fame and fortune on you wait, And each fond brother toast his mate, And cast all cares behind.

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Ill Then here’s to you and Wooglin, too, And all that loyal line W ho make a monstrous merry crew O f loving Betas tried and true, And polished very fine.

IV So now prolong the Beta song, Nor let your ardor lag, But make the grip both firm and strong, And in your hearts then treasure long The Beta badge and flag.

C

ham bers

B a ir d , Harvard ’ 82

W A T C H IN G T H E SIL V E R G R A Y S to watch the silver grays They have such sober solemn ways. ‘ ’Twould never do,’ they cry, ‘to go, T o go to bed at five o’clock or so Such deeds the public would appall W e will not go to bed at all.’

love

The silver grays are careful of The freshmen whom they dearly love. ‘ ’Twould never do,’ they cry, ‘to think O f letting those dear freshmen drink.

This beer would lay them on the shelf.

W e ’ll have to drink it up ourself.’

Ah yes, I love the silver grays.

Their wisdom fills us with amaze.

They give us cash and counsel and Their language it is something grand.

And we’d be happy, all we boys, If we could match them making noise.”

G

eorge

F i t c h , Knox ’ 97

T H E B U R N IN G O F T H E D R A G O N eneath

the shadow of th e ir favorite tree ,

The Mulberry, ever sacred to the wise, In deep retirement, shelved, temporarily, The dragon with its fond companions lies: The solemn owl, the youthful canine twain, With undiminished admiration cull The flowers of learning, springing from the brain Which still resides within the silent skull.

Anon they listen to the legends dear Each tells in turn of Father Wooglinâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s time; The dragon pours into each raptured ear The melody of many an ancient rhyme.

Thus pass the days.

But bliss must have an end.

Behold the approach of dire calamity!

Flames starting from an unknown quarter tend With furious raging toward the sacred tree.

Before their fury rush the maddened herds, Huge reptiles glide, the hot wind flings A host of creatures, clouds of insects, birds, Whose fear lends swiftness to the whirring wings.

The dragon seeks to stay the rushing crowd, His lofty crest is lifted to the stars; But whirling smoke enwraps him in a cloud, And writhing flame his stern resistance bars.

A cry of warning from above he sends T o Damsiegno seated on the ground, Well-known of Greeks, and to the other friends, Canis secundus, scarcely less renowned, T o Owlus and Innominatus, who Resides within the silence of the skull.

They hear, and hasten to subdue The furious clamor, now they strive to lull The awful tumult, now they run to stay The hurrying beasts, and now the direful flames.

In vain. The unrelenting fire holds sway.

A horrid death the helpless victims claims; They yield to fate. And now they live no more Save in the memory of surviving Greeks, And on the pages of that classic lore

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O f which the image of the dragon speaks.* * (W hile the dragon’s image appeared upon the cover, the magazine reached a high degree of literary excellence.)

Sy l v e s t e r G

e n in

W

il l ia m s ,

Ohio Wesleyan ’ 77

T H E F R IE N D SH IP O F L E A R N IN G AN INCIDENT OF THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR

T '

h r o u g h mingled rain and snow and hail; Through gusts of wind that sob and wail, Like spirits doomed by night to stray And ever shun the light of day; Through wintry air that stings like bees; Through surges of night’s blackest seas; T w o student soldiers— who their books, And peaceful alcoves, quiet nooks Within fair Learning’s ancient hall, Deserted at their country’s call, And grasped the sword with eager hand, Inspired with love of fatherland And hatred deep of haughty France— Are struggling on. Just in advance They catch a cheerful gleam of light That shines, like some fair star of night, Through ruddy, glowing window panes, As welcome to their anxious eyes As was that star they saw arise W ho watched by night on Eastern plains, That star which led them on their way T o where the infant Saviour lay; T o them a harbinger of rest, A welcome to the coming guest, A prophecy of blazing wood Upon the ample hearthstone piled, O f table spread with tempting food, W ith gleaming glass and silver bright, W ith fragrant wine, through which the light In rosy hues streamed o’er the floor, 1 O f pleasant interchange of thought, Where wit and wisdom tributes brought

/

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And added to the common store, Where in a generous rivalry They might each with the other vie And night with joyance be beguiled.

From thoughts like these new courage springs The fury of the storm to breast, T o gather from its icy wings The cheering hope of present rest, T o conquer intervening space And quickly gain the wished-for place.

Before the heavy door they stand— In Prussia’s royal name demand Admission, shelter, food, and fire, Unmindful of the rising ire, Which bids them enter just because The power of Prussia overawes; Because the host dare not refuse, And not because they welcome are.

He does that which he would not choose— Removes the solid oaken bar, The door throws open to his guests, Whose race he bitterly detests.

They enter, only to be met W ith formal words and phrases set T o cold and empty compliment, Which scarce conceal their true intent.

The bright and cheerful room was there, The blazing fire with ruddy glare, The gleam of glass and silver bright, The rainbow hues of glancing light; But the sweet expectancy of eyes, The welcome tones of glad surprise, The cordial clasp of friendly hands, They miss. Their host one moment stands, Then to the window slowly turns, While hatred in his bosom burns, And looks out on the angry night As if he found the gloomy sight Congenial to his stormy mood.

The wind that bows the stately wood, The fiercely driven shower of hail 257

T h a t beats the earth as with a flail, T h e drenching rain which dreary falls Upon the roof— all this recalls T h e words of Rome’s great lyric bard, A n d in a tone cold, harsh and hard, T h e words of Horace he repeats: “ Jam satis terris nivis atque dirae Grandinis misit pater.”

“ A c rubente D extera sacras jaculatus arces T e rru it urbem ,,, a voice replies: A n d turning w ith astonished eyes, In tones w hich trembled w ith surprise, T h e host dem anded of his guest I f he in H orace, too, w ere versed.

A t once to this abrupt request,

B y way of answer he rehearsed T h e rest of the immortal ode.

T h e n from the w indow straightway strode T h e now no longer angry host, A n d took his guests each by the hand A n d w elcom ed them to his abode.

W ith viands brought from every lan d F ro m N o rw a y cold to In d ia’s strand,

W ith purple grapes in clusters fair G row n mellow in the sunny air, W ith wines of vintage old and rare T h a t sparkled w ith imprisoned light, D istilled from summer’s sunshine bright, T h e servants at the host’s command T h e table load. T h e feasting o’ er, T h e y treasures bring from m em ory’ s store, Discuss the w orks of m any a name E m b lazo n ed on the roll of fam e, W h o se pictured prose or g lo w in g rhym e D efies the g n a w in g tooth of tim e •,

W ith pleasant talk and joyous song T h e hours unnoticed flit along, T ill breaks the morn o’er steaming hills, Adow n whose sides laugh merry rills, T i ll day their conversation ends

258

And bids them separate as friends.

Not a vain boast was that of thine, O Horace, when in words divine Thou saidst, “ I shall not wholly die, For, towering to the arching sky, A monument, which shall outlast Enduring rock and solid brass, O ’er which the storms of time shall pass And leave uninjured, I have raised.”

Fresh voices every year have praised T h y words of wisdom, wit, and truth, Which throb with an undying youth.

And thou, the Muses’ favored son, New laurels every year hast won, Endeared thyself to scholars’ hearts, Enriched our life with pleasing arts, Touched e’en the dull and commonplace With gilding of poetic grace, Disarmed the foe of rankling hate, Swung open friendship’s golden gate, And taught the mind to soar above On wings of universal love.

Dear brother Greeks, a stronger bond Than love for ancient classic lore Makes each to other’s heart respond And friendship’s treasures free outpour.

W e, too, have read with tireless zeal The thoughts that burn with living fire, But, kindled at Faith’s deathless torch, Our souls aflame have mounted higher, Beyond unaided strength of men, Beyond the poet’s widest reach, Beyond the intellect’s broad ken, Beyond the utterance of speech, T o know love is the highest good, T o feel we are a brotherhood.

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

259

A F O U N T A IN fount

of livin g water, here

Beneath the rugged mountain side.

Bubbling up so pure and clear, E ’er feeds a brook with cooling tide.

And all about the fount we see The moss-grown rocks, the rich green fern, The cooling shade of forest tree, Whose nodding plume the sun doth spurn.

See, nature’s people gather round, Refresh their thirsty throat, and rest In joyous comfort free from sound O f baying dogs or hunter’s zest.

The brook, in turn, its work fulfills, Now yielding life to waving grain, Now turning wheels for busy mills, And always rings a glad refrain.

The font is Beta’s living world— Bubbling forth the college tide.

The tree is Beta’s flag unfurled, Now floating o’er the nation’s pride.

Old nature’s people fill the land, W ho ne’er to college go, but cling T o living Beta’s friendly hand, And drink their wisdom at this spring.

T he brook, our kind alumni, shows T he guarding care o’er us they give, And every heart in Beta glows W ith love we’ll bear them lo n g’s we live.

W i l l i a m B r a i n a r d H i n k l e y , Wesleyan ’ 00

260

THE BETA DINNER BETA

t

e t o t h e r s tell of o th er days,

O f queens and knights and merry men, X ^ O f chivalry and daring frays, And all the deeds that folk did then— But do not care to do again,— O f such wild fame I ’d not be winner, But sweeter times allure me when I sing of the Beta dinner:— THETA

O f those who come this day of days From all the parts within our ken, Fresh college youth and silver grays, And some e’en haply three-score-ten, T o swift delight their souls again W ith joys that fill each saint and sinner In Beta’s halls a denizen.

I sing of the Beta dinner: PI

O f Dorg that’s carved in sundry ways W ith songs and shouts of loyal men.

O f loving cups and hymns of praise, And hearts laid bare to hearts again, Entwined and bound anew, we ken, In skeins whereof old Tim e’s the spinner Whene’er they’ve met and loved since then.

I sing of the Beta dinner: ENVOY--- BETA THETA PI

Justice! T o you our songs we raise, T o you, of Fame and Love the winner; W e gladly pledge this day of days.

I sing of the Beta dinner.

C h a m b e r s B a ir d , Harvard ’ 82

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THE BETA FLAG AND SONG I Y t h e in la n d sea or the ocean shore,

On the prairie plain or the mountain height, Where the zephyrs play or the tempests roar, There is faith and love in the Beta knight; For he fears not gloom nor the brave sunlight, But hands join hands and the grip prolong, And voices strong in a shout unite: Oh raise the Beta flag and song!

II In the marts of trade and the surfy roar That rolls from the streets and the wheels that smite, When the hands are fixed and the heart is sore, There is faith and love in the Beta knight; For his feet are swift and his eyes are bright, As he speeds his way ’mid the weary throng, And a glad cry fills his heart with delight: Oh raise the Beta flag and song!

III In the haunts of toil and of tasks that score T he scholar’s brow and bedim his sight, In the quest for a store of lettered lore, There is faith and love in the Beta knight; For he knows that whatever is, is right, And the world shall be saved and redeemed from wrong, If the sons of truth be brave in the fight.

Oh raise the Beta flag and song!

ENVOY

Wooglin, from you hath come glory and light, For there’s faith and love in the Beta knight; Then let us be brave and true and strong, Oh raise the Beta flag and song!

C h a m b e r s B a ir d , Harvard ’ 82

262

A DREAM “ I had a dream which was not all a dreamP — B y r o n ’s “ Darkness.” at an open window sits And bares his feverish brow to the cool airs O f wooing night. Hushed are the sounds of day And Silence and her sister, Sleep, assert Their voiceless sway. The stars mute vigil keep, Replying not to his vain questionings.

His eager thoughts reach out to these far lights, Bright gems profusely scattered o’er the robe O f night by the Almighty’s loving hand T o make her not less lovely than the day.

Diamond points of light, by distance made, These thousand thousand circling suns appear, Though each in space the center of fair worlds, As fair as our green earth, the home may be O f loves as fair, of hopes as bright, of joys As deep and pure. And more, for nearer still T o the real center of the universe, The great white throne of God, they may revolve, And, more immediately subject to Those holy influences which uplift The soul from every base and sordid thing, May nourish spirits purer than we know, Intelligences nobler far than man. stu dent

His soul, swept out upon the tide of thought, Speeds, like a ship before a favoring breeze, From the low, swiftly-rotting wharves of earth Towards its sure destined port, the highest heaven. “ Not a vain faith they held,” exclaimed the youth, “ Those sages, who discovered in the stars The destiny of man! Much more of truth Than we wot of Astrology possessed.

Still shines benignant Mercury with beams Propitious; Mars still shoots malignant rays; Auspicious still burns Jupiter’s fair lamp; And Venus yet betokens happiness.

These letters of the heavenly book they spelled And read aright some part of its contents; And, if at times they misinterpreted, 26 3

And read amiss the starry message sent, The stars erred not— the science was too great For human mastery. The oracles Are not yet dumb but have a voice for him Whose mind can understand their utterance.

Those three fair stars, that hang like silver lamps Against the azure curtain of the East, Would bring to me some word, were I but great Enough to hear, and hearing understand.

Would I might learn to read God’s letters writ So plain and clear across the skyey scroll! “ But see! They seem to open and disclose A path of light, with star-dust thickly sown, Which at a strong-barred portal terminates; And o’er the portal gleam Greek characters; Which shine apparently with their own light.

While farther on, in fair proportions, rise The marble pillars, gleaming snowy white, The richly inlaid walls, on which are hung The votive offerings of worshippers, T he shrines and altars, decked with amaranth, O f a grand temple. Hark! The voice of song, And strains of music more than earthly sweet.

The sound of grave discussion issues forth, Within I see the swinging censers smoke, Behold the singers clad in flowing robes, And view the countenances on which thought Has left its mark and virtue set its seal.

A great assembly, rich in wisdom gained, Composed of noblest, purest, worthiest minds, Which have delved deep in grave philosophy, Wrought faithfully in science’s broad realm, Weighed atoms and whole worlds in balances, O r roamed through flowery fields of literature And woven garlands of the sweetest flowers, Inspire the mind with grander, loftier thoughts, Soothe the oppressed, deprive dark sorrow of Its sting, and rob that grim old tyrant Death, O f all his terrors. Blest, thrice blest abode O f spirits blest, where heart to heart is bound!

O , that the restless, ever-seeking soul Might find such heaven and be satisfied! “ Behold a youth approaches that barred gate 264

And shouts, ‘Ho! Warder, open wide the gate, Admit Ambition, for Ambition knocks.

Behind me lie red fields, where conflict raged, Where gleamed my sword like lightning from the sky, Hewing a path through serried ranks of foes, Staining the green with streams of human blood, And making peaceful fields where cattle grazed A dreadful scene of carnage. Glory led The way and Victory has crowned the end.

Ambition knocks, admit without delay Him whom the world salutes with swelling praise And decks with laurel wreath.’ “ T o whom a voice Replies: ‘Depart, unhallowed son of earth, The blood-wet path which leads to earthly crowns Treads not the starward way. Hark to the moans, Which follow you, of children fatherless, O f wives made widows, gray-haired mothers robbed O f their first-born, and old men, sinking to The grave, deprived of the sole prop of age, That son who fell beneath your dripping sword.

Their every tear shall call aloud to Heaven For vengeance with a voice which shall be heard.’ “ Another comes, a laughing youth, who bears A vine-wreathed cup brim full of fragrant wine, And leads with either hand a dark-eyed maid, Whose unclasped girdle wantons with the wind Disclosing to the eye voluptuous charms.

A train of dancing satyrs follow him, And bands of loose-robed singers singing loud Their amorous ditties. ‘Open wide your gate,’ He calls aloud, ‘and let this happy band Find joy unceasing. Pleasure calls, his voice You know, O blessed halls! Admit the youth W ith his gay train of merry followers.

No blood is on our hands, except the blood Which flows from sun-kissed clusters of the grape; No war we wage, save war upon dull care, Whose leaden heels grow wings where’er we come.’ “ ‘Depart accursed crew,’ the voice replies, O f Bacchus and Silenus followers!

265

This portal opens not to those who waste The golden sands of life in wantonness, Whose idle hands are filled with coarsest weeds But bring no wreath of blossoms fair, which spring From duty’s fruitful soil.’ “ See yonder man, W ho puts a trumpet to his lips and speaks: ‘Fly open gates at my approach! Wealth comes And he unbars each door. Before him bow The wise and great of earth. Laws yield to him And legislators wait upon his nod.

Before him Wisdom shrinks abashed away, And Beauty smiling hangs upon his lips, And Virtue graciously unclasps her zone And plays the wanton. Open wide the gate And let Wealth in.’ “ And then the answering voice: ‘W e know not Mammon here, except as one W ho, plotting with the arch-fiend, Satan, fell, Expelled from Heaven, who while there did walk W ith ever down-cast eyes intent upon The golden pavements, which did brighter seem T o him than God’s encircling glory. Hence, Base follower of Mammon! Here no place Is found for such as you.’ “ And now appears A thoughtful face upon which rests a smile, Like some stray gleam of sunshine: in his hand A bunch of blue forget-me-nots. He knocks, But not with Wealth’s assurance, Pleasure’s ease, O r proud Ambition’s boldness. Timidly He knocks, as if in doubt or fearful of The answer, and his name scarce breathes above The beating of his heart. But at his name The bolts fly back, the gate swings open wide, And welcomes him the voice which had denied Admittance to the other applicants. “ ‘Dear youth, who comes in Friendship’s sacred name For you this hospitable portal opes, 266

And hither come angelic hosts to lead The way and minister to all your wants.

A warmer welcome waits for you from those W ho have recorded every simple deed Done faithfully to those who needed help And bore the holy name of brother.’ “ ‘Beyond him stretched a shining path of light On either side of which celestial flowers In beauty bloomed. Before him stood a choir O f angels bearing harps, who touched the strings And sang with voices sweet of heavenly joys.

‘The temple doors swung open wide and forth The dwellers came to meet and welcome him.

One placed a laurel crown upon his head, And then through echoing nave and vaulted roof Triumphant paeans rang.’ ” Then I awoke T o find it all a dream, and yet a dream Which we may prove a bright reality.

W e, too, can gain admittance to those courts Through friendship’s name; we, too, may thus receive The hearty welcome home; we, too, may win Glad recognition for plain duty done And hear glad paeans sung. Close let us bind, M y brothers, to our hearts the principles O f our fraternity, and live what we Profess,— let faith be our philosophy, Fidelity our creed.

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

26 7

T h e Beta Convention ☆

☆

☆

W O O G L IN F O R E V E R ! / E

coming from the East, boys, we’re coming from the West— Shouting: “ Old Wooglin forever!”

And the boys of Sunny Southland are coming with the rest— Shouting: “ Old Wooglin forever! ”

are

Wooglin forever! hurrah, boys, hurrah!

Long beam our diamond, and bright shine our stars!

For we’ll gather at the shrine, boys, we’ll gather once again, Shouting: “ Old Wooglin forever! ” Here’s a health to Pater Knox, boys, and them of thirtynine— Shouting: “ Old Wooglin forever!”

And the sons that follow after them in long illustrious line— Shouting: “ Old Wooglin forever!”

Our hearts and hands to Beta men wherever they may roam— Light be their footsteps and ever A kindly thought for us, boys, who still remain at home— Shouting: “ Old Wooglin forever!”

W

yllys

C a d w e l l R a n s o m , Michigan ’48

H A R B O R SO N G the anchor and hoist the light, ^ .F o r we’ve finished another cruise; W e’ll ride in the harbor and ask the three stars T o compute what we gain or lose; And send up a man, with an eye, to report Every spar that comes into the bay; For the rest of the navy is due in the roads ’Ere the heavens shake down a new day. e t go

26 8

Then hail to the Meet O f the Beta Fleet, And her sixty-five ships of the Line!

Here’s a health to each sail, be she new or old; Here’s a health to each bark from her peak to her hold; Here’s a health tho’ she’s strong or a tale that is told; Here’s a health to the Ships of the Line, my lads, Here’s a health to the Ships of the Line.

For once in the year we must turn into port And account for the work up to date; There is need to confer, and more need to agree, On the things that have furnished debate.

There is much to be done in the mending of rents And exchanging important news; There are orders to draft; there are stores to be shipped; And a lark will be good for the crews.

And here on the decks that patrol the main, Tho’ the waters be seething or still, You will find a staunch quota of sturdy, picked men Apprenticed to routine and drill.

But after four years of the service is past They scatter and put out alone; And each takes a compass and stands off to sea, In a taut little boat of his own.

Then hail to the Meet O f the Beta Fleet And her manifold Ships of the Line!

There is never a zone where her sails haven’t blown; There is never a zone where her flags haven’t flown, For the men breast the waves on a keel of their own, W ith the manifold Ships of the Line, my lads, W ith the ten thousand Ships of the Line.

There are times when the winds and the skies are kind.

And times when the hurricanes howl; But the course has been laid and the way must be kept, T h o’ the weather be gracious or foul.

There are Ships that can stand all the strains of the deep, And some that must yield to the game; So pick up the men in the brine and be off, For the Fleet ploughs the foam just the same.

269

Oh! now we are here and now we are there, W e’re at work, or at rest, or at play; But tonight we are sheltered and safe from the storm While we sing our wild song to the fray.

So make yourselves merry and join in the feast; W e are only together a day.

Tomorrow we’ll have to grip hand into hand And silently sail away.

Then hail to the Meet O f the Beta Fleet And her sixty-five Ships of the L in e!

Here’s a health to each sail, be she new or old; Here’s a health to each bark from her peak to her hold; Here’s a health, tho’ she’s strong or a tale that is told; Here’s a health to the Ships of the Line, my lads, A health to the Ships of the Line.

P e r c y B a y a r d C o c h r a n , Bethany ’ 00

T H E C O N V E N T IO N D A N C E ross

th e floor dim ly lit shadow y form s are sw aying,

Violins united play a weird part.

Dance with me, glide with me, while tonight we’re playing That you’re my own Beta sweetheart.

Pale moonlight floods the night, distant lights are flickering: Beta stars gleaming brightly above.

Eyes of Beta blue set my mind to weaving Dreams of endless bliss, while your lips are whispering Words that say you love me, you’re my one love.

O sc a r S l a c k B a r r e t t , Cincinnati ’ 14

W O O G L I N ’S G R E E T IN G i s e n d a line of greeting T o the Nation’s Beta boys, W ho now your ‘match’ are meeting In the element of noise, 270

Niagara, a “ wonder,” I grant you, might compare W ith the cataclysmic thunder Where a bunch of Betas are!

T ell the Betas of the Nation, M y “ Oracles” restate, That the sanest “ lubrication” Is Niagara water “ straight! ” For, rarely will they meet a More patent truth,— methinks:— ’T is hard to beat a Beta W ho always skips “ the drinks.”

And tell the great convention, The fires are still aglow I lit on Wooglin’s altar Just fifty years ago.

The “ Golden Anniversary” This year is passing by Since Wooglin rose to regal sway In Beta Theta P i!

And here a rare anomaly Invades your social joys:— So rare I own ’tis tempting me T o tell it to the Boys:— Another “ Golden Wedding” day W ith Wooglin’s ushers in, ’T is Wooglin’s first High Priest, and she W ho wore my Beta pin!

She “ wore my pin,” — sometimes she did; But in the years between, W e reared a stalwart Beta “ Kid,” And, faith, “ he swiped it” — clean!

I close,— as I begun it:— By greeting every one And while I send a sonnet; The Lady sends a son!

J o h n H o g a r t h L o z ie r , DePauw ’ 57

271

A T SARATOGA f\

A - i p p a l l e d by the vision of giant hotels Begot by the races and plunder, W e step from the cars of an Albany train, Engrossed in the coolness and wonder.

The night before the Big One began On the porch of the jolly old States!

A score of the early arrivals are there, And the porters and waiters set baits.

Hand locks with hand in a loyal embrace That Betas know all the world over And eyes catch the glimpse of a dark-flashing pin, The joy of the homer or rover.

From the East and the West and the lands to the South, From the Codfish unto the Pacific And e’en from the bounds of the British domain, In the boom of a thunder terrific Comes the sound of a yell that wakes from its spell This town of the festival vichic.

And now from the halls comes the strain of the march That intimates blissful hereafter W ill sure be the lot of every true man W ho helps to shake pillar and rafter W ith the ring of a song and all that goes ’long W ith the tramp and the lock-stepping laughter.

And here we pile down on the ample veranda That fronts on the busiest street That old Saratoga can boast since the slander Aroused by the Governor’s heat.

For hours upon hours the lilt of the songs That sing of the Comrades Fraternal Rings over the city while mild-stepping feet Are taking their ramble diurnal.

Behold, here the crowd collects, list’ning the song That the brother from close the Pacific Leads on with the fling of a Berkeley-an swing, And wakens the guests soporific.

T he first of the sessions! ’T is opened with prayer As befits the ordeals impending, 27 2

And now to the task of presiding with grace Frank Sisson his talents is lending.

Then comes Daddy Ham., with his bacchanal smile And the wreaths of his meerschaum eternal, W ho tells how the chiefs of O i Uranioi Do rule in the regions supernal.

Then lo, there comes forth from his seat in the throng Dean Shep. from the Halls of Petroleum, The handsomest man in the meeting by far (Says the maid as she cleanses linoleum.)

And now from his tongue comes the flashing of fire That is borne of the flame of devotion As he tells of his dream of the future to be ’Round altars from ocean to ocean.

Unforgettable scenes in the Great Talk-Around With Sisson serene at the table, While delegates stood as a target for shots,— An army of les miserables.

The fire of the questions from out on the floor, From Shepardson, armed to the muzzle, From Hamilton, primed with his quadruple test,— Y e gods! what an infinite puzzle!

How long will those scenes in our memory stay! — O f the brothers in conclave together In the links of the bond that holds you and me Through sunniest, stormiest weather.

And what shall we say of the game with the bats A t the grounds “ half a mile” from our lodging, O f the prowess of West and the rankness of Umps, W ho fast ’mid the liners was dodging.

In trolleys, well-loaded with only true Greeks, On the night before Sunday we hurried T o the shore of the lake named after the town, O r town after it— we are flurried.

Then the greatest of nights of the greatest of weeks W e spent at the Sign of the Arrow— With song and with yell, while we ate for a spell, W ith never a trouble to harrow.

Craig Mitchell was there with the goods, as his wont, A god of the genus dramatic,

273

That rambles awhile with Falstaffian smile, Evoking the chuckles ecstatic.

And there the Queen of Convention first shone, (None ever beheld but to love her) The spouse of the Keeper of Wooglin’s Fat Purse, Himself keeping round as a plover.

W ith voice that awakened the banks of Lake George She led in the Song of the Southland And then with the one that brings to his feet Each patriot soul of the Northland.

On Sunday the patriots took their long walk T o the heights of the Ticonderoga While Roseberry played on the lap of Champlain And nearly went down in his toga.

Then ho! for the Horicon, skimming Lake George And the shores with their stories historic While hunger was stayed with a box from the trade Whose contents were hardly plethoric.

And what shall we say of the banquet one night When the States, with their chef in condition, Heaped on us the courses of eminent good While stomachs went on to perdition.

Then the toasts— not dry in the breakfasting way— But the primest of brands well-selected, W ith wisdom in plenty, a verse here and there, And here a wit-tracing detected.

What joyous imbiber will ever forget T he trenchant remarks of Br’er Lehmann, And the speech of Br’er Shep., of the orator flower Most surely both pistil and stamen.

High o’er us the shaft of the Monument stood Where Arnold fought on to his glory And high stood the shaft of our lasting Ideal, The end of Fraternity story.

A h ! never, my pen, pass over the day And the night with the maids of the city,— T o slight such a scene with the keenest of keen Would surely be reason for pity.

The tea in the court where, the horde held at bay, W e chose out our queen for the dances, 274

And then the bright scene in the magical sheen While music enmingled the prances.

From Schenectady come and the Springs, and around, Sweet girls, who will ever forget you ?

Not even our Prex., who with business to vex, Stopt over one evening to pet you.

O time of all times! W hat need of our praise O r that “ greatest one ever” we dub you,— From the tables that last in the halls of the past Forgetfulness never can rub you.

When back to our homes o’er the far-stretching rails W e went to all over creation W e carried some fire to the altars aglow O ’er all of the puissant nation.

Sing on, all ye sons of the flaming three stars, The glories of friendship fraternal,— The diamond shines and the wreath it entwines And their lustre is ever eternal.

H a r o ld E d g a r C h e r r i n g t o n , Ohio ’ 10

IN V IT IN G T H E

H EAR SE, O R T H E IN VERSE (A t least, some of it.)

C O N V E N T IO N

PREDIGESTION

i

thirty-nine, you know, John Reily Knox at Oxford, O., W ith a little band of a favored few, Conceived and blended the Pink and Blue.

The colors were fast; they did not fade And a lasting combination made, For the germ they planted was not to die, But lived as Beta Theta Pi. For a symbol they sought to express their aim And, seeking one fit for Beta’s name, They chose the light of a gem supreme And proclaimed their emblem— the Diamond’s gleam. n e ig h te e n

275

Many years later— nineteen fourteen— Descendants of these Greeks were seen When they met together as brothers dear In St. Louis town from far and near.

For three score, ten and five years more Had bridged the time since the Greeks of yore And the present ones all came to see The Dragon’s diamond jubilee.

So Convention Seventy-five was born T o that famous maid— September Morn.

T H E D AY BEFORE

From Sunday dawn each engine’s cough Brought Greeks from the East, South, West and North.

From the far Northwest came the brothers Tooze, Some came by freight, some wore out shoes.

Snow from Toronto, however, wasn’t felt, For he thought if he came he would surely melt.

Owens, Greenwood, Beall and Hewitt Came in an auto to show they could do it; The speedometer registered a thousand and one Before the trip from Denver was run. “ W ell, I ’ll be darned” you would hear the cry, “ There’s Shep and Gurd or I hope to die.” “ Lane from Iowa— probably broke— “ And Adams, Indiana, or I hope to choke.”

Emaciated Jim we see, Receiving his orders from Mrs. “ G .” ; Ryan and Kelley and James T . Brown, They also had blown into town, Eager for the privilege O f getting revenge at auction-bridge.

Francis Sisson and Clarence Newton, Ensign— Idaho a tootin’ ; Trustees present to a man— Roger, Newton, Georgia Chan.

T H E F I R S T SE S SIO N

(And parts of others.)

On Tuesday morn at half-past ten The delegates met in the hall and then The General-Sec. rapped “ Silence A ll!”

Silence reigned in Convention Hall.

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When committees were appointed and work begun W e then heard from our Shepardson; The Treasurer and Magazine Reports were made and may be seen In September Special, No. I, Where Convention Minutes are sometimes run.

A T E L E G R A M F R O M D I S T R I C T SIX

(This District-Chief was up to tricks.) “ I can’t get away “ T o be with you today. “ My wife won’t let me.”

P.S. “ Little Mary Catharine “ Just came to stay and may be seen,” Said Deckman, Chief of Dist. Six. (Deckman’s always up to tricks.)

Chandler announced the convention martyrs— The standing committee on impending charters— In 813, as understood Would sit, for the draft in the room was good.

Jack Ryan’s committee,— Miscellaneous Affairs— , Took a trip to his room Up a flight of stairs.

When they burst in his room There in front of the screen The funniest sight of the week was seen,— Hudson Kelley, from a near-by bath, Provoked great mirth and a genial laugh, For Hudson’s shape gave a treat to the stares O f that solemn old lady— Miss. Cellaneous Affaires.

In the hall many souvenirs Were handed out by jewelers While Gavin bellowed through the air “ Last call for Delegate’s railroad-fare” And then again the silence fell T ill someone heard the dinner-bell.

A session in the afternoon— , Except one all night’s in Hudson’s room— , 277

Cleared up the business for the day, “ Last Call for the ride out to the play!!! ” IN T H E E V E N IN G

W e went to a Club called Algonquin, A dozen or so miles from town.

T he Sun, it was beauteous and shining— I should say before it went down— And direct from a hard business meeting, A terrible, terrible shame, But a few sudden buckets of water Said “ Nix” on the Cardinal’s game.

When the supper was served to the brothers They chewed up each bite very slow In the hope that the rain Would come back soon again And eternally put off the show.

The dramatis bacilli were Betas, The author a Beta was too; But how they escaped W ith their lives from the place Is a thing that the Lord only knew.

A F T E R T H E SH OW

(W e started home in open street-cars) Then down came the rain in buckets “ D og” Krause taught some how to swim, For he swam across the street in the morning And knocked at the bar to get in.

In a long open car on a trestle The power gave out on the line While the soft gentle patter of rain-drops Fell down on the roof all the time.

The wind blew the rain through the curtains And some were wet through to the skin— So a few that were damp on the inside before W ere now wet both on outside and in.

T H E B O A T R ID E

On the Mississippi’s waters In the good ship Alton went

The Betas, some with daughters (Not their own, but only lent).

As the boat from mooring started From the bank there came a cry— McCormack, late but not departed, Said he too would go bye-bye.

W ith his girl he reached the water, Cunning as a little fox, Jumped aboard as boat was leaving, As the tub pulled from the docks.

Over by the rail was sitting Jimmy Brown with his straw hat.

Ebersole with lady flitting, Jimmy Gavin and his— wife.

Down below the band was playing, Trying to compete with song, Tenors, altos, basses braying, Beta songs went right along.

Some with Beta girls were dancing, Others watched and then cut in.

Tango steps to tupes entrancing Threatened to make Newton thin. “ W ho was Pater Knox? ” asked someone, Caused an awful, awful din; All who knew it gave the answer, Almost caved the deck right in.

Several coons with voice and banjos Sang us songs on upper deck.

Ebersole pausing in the tango Said he could do the same, By Heck!

Buster Brown coralled the convicts; Told them Beta Theta Pi Must become, as Wooglin ordered, Their acquaintance ’fore they die.

Down the bluff-lined, moon-lit river, Floating gently all alone T ill the breeze began to shiver W ent the boat, and brought us home.

TH E BANQUET

The ancient Greeks with Epicurus, Twenty centuries ago, Mingled at the chosen tables 279

And discussed their weals and woe.

W ith their dainty viands luscious— They drank deep the thought of men; Mingled pleasantrie with pleasure, Binding closer friend with friend.

Tw enty centuries thereafter, Tw enty hundred years gone by, Greek again meet Greek rejoicing,— Brothers, Beta Theta Pi. A t the banquet, the convention, Brothers bound in Beta’s name Heard the words of inspiration,— Also sparks from lighter vein.

A t the speaker’s table sat Short ones, tall ones, thin and fat; Jimmy Gavin— no offence, Just a strange coincidence.

Brother Ewing led the growls And the banquet canine howls; Ebersole conducted screams And Boyd, the Oriental Queens.

Every Beta wore a rose,— On his coat, not on his nose.

Haenschen played the songs with glee Gaily brewed of revelry.

Sammy Hurst of old Mizzoura Sang and brothers yelled for more; Krause, thinking of the police, Locked the windows and the door.

L a Paloma, a la farmer, On a little licorice stick Nearly gave us indigestion, Made us laugh till we were sick.

Some one said if farmers whistled Like that for a song and dance He would not give thirty pennies For the Kansas Aggies chance.

Doctor Ewing, as toastmaster, Introduced in verse and prose 280

Every speaker when his turn came— And then calmly wiped his nose.

Once he said he merely noticed On a place-card lying there A pair of Nudes-Entwined descending, A la cubist, down the stair.

Shep told tales of great men’s doing— The common men of days gone by— ; Kem from rural Kansas City Told ez haow th’ taown wus dry.

Brother Switzer at DePauw Joined old Wooglin’s Beta fold; Thirty-seven years a Beta,— One as old as Gavin’s old.

Said he’d seen John Reily Knox, That beloved Beta sage— Jimmy Gavin’s quite a big boy For his rather tender age.

Sisson told of Beta glories, Said that others couldn’t fool ’em; But the banquet almost ended When he wagged the clock’s pen-doo-lum.

Then he gave a learned discourse, “ How a hen should lay an egg,” And Dr. Ewing said that fresh milk Should be sold by gallon keg.

Lehmann with a stovepipe hat Grew hair on a billiard-ball at that And told of a herd of pet gold-fish That J. Brown kept in a spherical dish.

When the scheduled growls were over And the night was well nigh on ’Round about the hall we gathered, Beta sires and Beta son, In the sacred Mystic-Circle, Clasping Beta hand in hand And in one united motion Sang the midnight chorus and 281

Kept the vigils of old Wooglin, Praise sang to the one on high And departing, locked within us Memories born but not to die.

INDIGESTION

If you don’t believe this story Drink a toast to your good health And enjoy the firm conviction That the author don’t himself.

Anacronisms in a poem And little lies add to its fire; And remember that the poets Get their music from the lyre.

THE END

(Thank goodness.)

A r t h u r W i ls o n L a m b e r t , J r .,

Washington (St. Louis) ’ 12

A C O N V E N T IO N S K IT “ It aint givine to rain no m o ” Betas thought they’d take a trip Away up north this year T o meet the Beta boys again And give a Beta cheer. h, th e

W e knew we’d meet our officers And district chiefs galore, So I thought I ’d write a song about Our visit at Lake Shore.

Francis W . Shepardson, Our president is he, And Brother James L . Gavin, He guards our treasury.

Our general secretary Is Brother George H. Bruce, 282

He has a bunch of deputies And works them like the deuce.

W e have a keeper of the rolls His name is James T . Brown, For fifty years or more or less He’s put our names all down.

There are some other officers W e call them grand trustees, They never seem to bother us And so we let them be.

I ’ve written about the grand moguls The rest I will leave out, Because we never do a thing But sit around and shout.

And when we’ve packed up every grip And said all our good byes W e’re mighty glad we’ve spent the time W ith Beta Theta Pis. A n d r ew W il l ia m K u rru s,

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Washington (St. Louis ) ’ 19

Beta Convention Poems ☆

☆

☆

CEDAR CREEK A Poem read before the General Convention o f the Beta T h eta Pi F ra­ ternity, at Indianapolis, Indiana, September 5, 1878.

I ’ CT* . „ i w a s n i g h t in Shenandoah’s vale, Virginia’s garden-spot and boast; October’s moon, full faced and pale, Arose among the shining host, And slowly drove them from her way, Her cold and trembling luster shed.

Through Chester Gap, across Luray, On Massanutten’s towering head, Where, wrapped in gloom and solitude, The pine-clad mountain solemn stood, Rearing its grand, majestic height Into the silent, starry night— A landmark e’en by night as day, The traveler cheating far away Where first ’tis seen from northern view, Divide the Valley into two.

Now all its eastern slope is seen, Reflecting Luna’s silver sheen From rugged rock and evergreen; Thick darkness shrouds the western side, And mists impenetrable bide Around the base, where noiseless glide The waters of the far-famed stream, While all across the valley wide, Uncertain as a troubled dream, The shadow from the mountain’s base, Spreads out its dark, mysterious self, O ’er river bank and rocky shelf, And forest glade and rising plain, E ’en to the western hills again.

II High up the mountain’s craggy side, The lurking scout that night espied, 284

Adown the gloom before him spread, A thousand camp-fires, blazing red, In scattered groups for miles away, Dotting the line of hills that lay Beetling _ ©o’er Cedar Creek. He knew Three times ten thousand men in blue— Three corps of foot and one of horse— Along that streamlet’s winding course, Like warriors old their evening passed, Careless that it might be their last.

III Around the fires, (the night was chill,) Hour after hour they lingered still, Recounting, for the hundredth time, Campaigning done in Southern clime, W ith stories of the field and camp, And incidents of many a tramp, Adventures by the land and sea, From Arkansas to bleak Tybee, And guards and marches, shine and rain, W ith all the soldiers’ joy and pain, The scorn and favor of the fair, And all about the bloody war.

IV Beginning far upon the right, In every camp begun anew, A deafening clamor at its height, Is heard the old, well-known tattoo; The fife’s shrill notes ring loud and clear, The rattling drums assail the ear, And answering bugles, far and near, W ith discord grand the valley fill; While hill speaks back to speaking hill, And mountain solitudes around, Awaken to return the sound.

V Now every wandering echo dies, The startled night birds cease their cries, The soldiers, one by one, retire,

Reluctant, from th’ encircled fire, And each, with song of lightsome strain, His solace still for every pain, Seeks out his hard and rugged bed— “ The Old Dominion’s” “ sacred soil,— ” Upon his knapsack lays his head.

Forgets his changeful life of toil, And lives his old dear life at home, Where some one waits for him to come, The fitful fires die out in camp, As dies the unreplenished lamp; The M ilky-W ay’s long battle line, Marshaled in space by Chief Divine, And all the glittering throng pursue, Their silent march through fields of blue; T he thought-betraying goddess higher Arises o’er the rocky steep, T he shadows from her view retire, And closer to the mountain creep.

VI He, who at midnight loves to stroll About the moon-lit tented field, In its deep calm to bathe his soul, Forget his present self, and yield T o holy memories, and he W ho, tired of vainly wooing sleep, Has left his turfy couch, may see, Along the undulating sweep O f lofty hill and valley deep, Where e’en like serpents huge they creep Before the triple battle line, Long lines of earthworks, armed in front W ith bristling abatis of pine, Full strong to bear the charge’s brunt:— Battalions there must strew the ground, Ere single foothold shall be found Within the camps thus guarded well.

Far out in front, upon the swell O f naked uplands o’er the stream, Full half a league, the frequent gleam O f polished rifle, shows where ward Is kept by sleepless picket guard.

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VII As bright, as soft, as holy light, Almost, as shone that blessed night, When shepherds watched in Palestine, And Christ was born of Jesse’s line, Bathes rock, and tree, and hill, and dell, And casts o’er men a mystic spell.

The stalwart guardsman, drawn apart From sleeping comrades, slacks his pace, And something takes from near his heart, Though worn and soiled, he still can trace In those small characters, a name Far dearer now than martial fame.

Such breathing stillness broods around, O ’er all the hill-encompassed ground, He lists, where motionless he stands, T o hear the song of angel bands, That seem to hover in the air T o catch his spirit’s silent prayer— Uprisen ere he himself has known— And bear it to Jehovah’s throne.

V III Once only, while the long night wears, And tarries like unwelcome cares, A mortal sound assails his ears, T o break the spell, or rouse his fears; When, lending every sense, he heeds The distant, mingled tread of steeds, And soon, with anxious peering glance, Discerns the cautious, slow advance, Along the broad, well-traveled way, O f three tall troopers, clad in grey, W ho halt while yet on neutral ground, And closely scan the scene around, Where e’en no signs of life appear, And silence almost pains the ear.

Full well they know their halting place, And well the Federal picket posts, And turning soon, with quickening pace, Retire like warriors’ errant ghosts.

The sentry, gazing where they go, 287

Is filled with thoughts about the foe, Entrenched upon the hills so nigh, The smoke ascending from the fires O f hostile camps in upper sky Commingles o’er the Strasburg spires.

IX Had never night such dying throes, Nor left such legacy of woes, But, till to second youth it grows, Nor other sound, nor other sight Occurs, to tell of coming fight.

A t length the early hours encroach, That herald rosy Dawn’s approach; And careful captains walk their rounds, T o rouse the pickets in their bounds, And place their men in good array T o meet th’ accustomed morning fray W ith reconnoitering skirmish band, From Jubal Early’s nigh command.

X Far, far away, upon the right, Where Custer’s horse protect the flank, A crashing volley alarms the night, And, muffled by many a tree and bank, Falls dull and heavy on the ear O f wondering picket, far and near— Again, the fearful sound! and soon, Like rapid firing of platoon— And yet again! it sure must be Some morning raid of cavalry; They ride abroad thus soon, to feel The Union lines and breed surprise, Discharge their arm and air their steel, And vanish ere the sun arise.

XI But look why pales the guardsman’s cheek W hy does his tongue refuse to speak: W hy stands he listening on his post, As motionless as sentry ghost?

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What means this strange and straggling fire, Close on the left and coming nigher?

Hark, how the fearful rattling sound Increases to a constant round!

And look, where river mists arise, And roll along the hills, where lies Crook’s gallant Eighth Corps, shrouded deep, And lately wrapped in tranquil sleep!

See! see those flashes through the gloom!

And there it goes, the cannon’s boom!

A sound that makes the timorous quake, And e’en the firm old hill to shake.

See, where the flaming meteor shell Flies like a messenger of hell!

And hear that long, unearthly yell, The wild, terrific battle cry, That tells the charging line is nigh.

X II No sweet reveille’s swelling sound, W ith dream of angel music breaks The warrior’s slumber on the ground, While slowly each pleased sense awakes: As when the midnight serenade Steals on the ear of sleeping maid: No bugle’s undulating wave O f melody announces day, And ends the sleep of trooper brave, W ho lingers till has died away The last faint echo of the strain, And vainly wills it back again— Instead, the rattling, loud “ long roll” Strikes sudden terror to the soul, And “ boots and saddles” quick and high, Proclaims impending danger nigh.

The sharp and frightful rifle crash, The grating, ringing saber clash, The buzz, and shriek, and howl of shell, The thrilling, fiend-like charger’s yell, The deafening, thundering cannon’s roar, W ith all the jarring sounds of war, The winged messengers of fear, Fall on the startled sleeper’s ear, 289

And pierce with chill his throbbing heart.

The camps are filled with wild alarms; The soldiers from their low beds start, Seizing their ever ready arms, Obey with haste the loud command, Repeated oft on every hand, By officer of every grade, Commanding section or brigade, Resounding o’er the general din, “ Load! at w ill! ” “ fall in! fall in! ” X III No single precious moment’s lent T o strike the low, scant shelter tent, No pause to gird the knapsack on, O r shrunken haversack to don; With loaded weapons firmly grasped, And accoutrements securely clasped, All eyes, all ears, and soon all feet, Are turned where waves of battle meet, And roar, and surge, and dash, and break, And following waves their places take; Where W ar his smoking ploughshare drives, And furrows through a field of lives, Snorts forth his hot sulphurous breath, And revels in the scene of death, Besmearing all his horrid front, From many a crimson-flowing fount; Where every utterance is a cry, And where it’s easy, grand to die; Where all of man that is sublime Expands, and for the transient time, Throws off base, flesh-born’s passion’s weight, And makes the humblest soldier great, And man is almost deity, And dares defy his destiny.

X IV Listening to all this crash and roar, Each moment heightened more and more, In front of Sixth or Nineteenth Corps, The pickets stand along the hill, Expectant, watchful, faithful still, 290

And through the mist and smoke that cower Round Massanutten’s gloomy base, And o’er the neighboring hill-tops lower, The battle’s fiery outlines trace: Not long mere witnesses they stand, O f spectacle so passing grand, Until vidette, with trailing gun, And crouching low upon the run, Falls back upon the line, where stands His captain, muttering low commands, And, breathless, whispers in his ear, “ Their column, Sir, is almost here.”

XV Now every veteran takes his place, With “ ready” written on his face— “ Ready,” the word is passed around, While heart and arm obey the sound; Bent forward, speechless, where they stand, Awaiting further stern command, Piercing with concentrated gaze, The early dawning’s gloom and haze;— A h ! see the thickest skirmish line Rising above the hill’s decline, And steadily advancing nigher!

They’re here, and hark! “ Aim low, and fire! ” A line of leaping, blazing light, Bewilders instantly the sight; Each skirmisher, like loosened hound, W ith ringing cry and sudden bound, And speed that almost spurns the ground, Now rushes forward down the hill, Where fleeing fast, though turning still, And firing even in his face, The pickets lead the headlong race.

The hill is passed, they reach the plain, The hope of capture now is vain, And pelting showers of leaden rain Pursue them, till, worn out, they gain The camps entrenched upon the height;— ’Twould need a pen inspired to write The battle scene that meet their sight.

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XVI T h e aged night has grow n quite gray; Beyond the Blue Ridge, far away, A urora’s zenith-reaching ray Foreshows the fast approaching day.

O ’er hill, and plain, and Valley all, Spreads out, like dark, funeral pall, A rolling, m urky, sulphurous cloud, A bove the cold m ist’s heavy shroud.

U pon the breast-works mounted high, T h e panting picket gains his breath; B elow , before his glaring eye, Extends the swarm ing field of death ; Confusion triumphs there and reigns, A n d momently new subjects gains— Dense squadrons, m oving from the Ranks, Battalions formed with gaping ranks, A n d broken batteries, headlong Hying, A ll rushing, dashing, struggling, vieing, W ith banners tossing in the smoke, Concenter toward the belt of oak T h a t bounds the eastward looking eye.

O ’er all the Valley, far and nigh, T h e horrid shells plough up the ground, O r burst, and scatter death around; Careering horsemen scour the plains, W ith gory spurs and flowing reins; And horses, riderless and free, N eighing and snorting, m adly flee, Snuffing the thick and stifling air, A n d doubling speed with each new fear.

Bewildered teamsters blare and lash, A n d lumbering baggage wagons dash, A n d rattling ambulances sweep O ’er hills, and rocks, and gullies deep, Strew with their wrecks the broken ground, And swell the mixed, confusing sound.

X V II Still westward rolls the deadly storm, Still louder grows the awful roar, And soon a dark and struggling swarm, T h e remnant of the old Eighth Corps, 29 2

Defeated, routed, scattered, driven, Like snow before the gusts of heaven, Are seen emerging from the wood, Where many a comrade, tried and good, Lies bleeding on the leafy sod, Which but a moment since he trod.

On, on, like torrent wild they pour, And, rushing through the Nineteenth Corps, Away, away, they break, they fly; Command, nor threat, nor rally-cry, Can stay the panic-stricken host Upon the field so quickly lost.

X V III Not lost, if valor can avail, Not lost, if living, bristling wall Can check and turn the angry flood, Nor if ten thousand brave hearts’ blood, A sacrifice to liberty, Can change defeat to victory.

O ! here is seen a sight, might turn The palest cheek to ruddy hue, And cause the quailing eye to burn W ith patriotic fire anew;— As firm as crevice-rooted pines On old North Mountain’s rugged side, Brave Emory’s long, compacted lines, The fierce, tumultuous onset bide, Unheeding all the rout and roar, Retreat behind and death before— A h ! now a withering fire they pour Upon the victory-maddened foe, W ho swarm o’er all the hills below, And rush, with answering fire and yell, Into this yawning mouth of hell.

But see, they waver! ah, they stand!

And now, O God! the solid land Quakes neath the rattling thunder peals; The craggy mountain shakes and reels, And e’en to far Potomac’s shore, Is heard the echo of the roar.

It cannot last; no human power Can long withstand such leaden shower;

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One side, or this or that, must yield, O r soon all strew the ensanguined field.

T he crisis hastens; Death with blood, For once, is even satisfied; And as, where Ocean rolls his flood, The crested waves that shoreward ride, A moment tremble on the strand, Before they sink across the sand, So shake the thinned, opposing ranks, When, lo! upon the Union flanks New, over-reaching columns fall, W ith yells might stoutest hearts appall: ’T is done! they break! they turn! they fly!

While following fast, and following nigh, The exultant horde press on once more, Until on higher ground again They meet the far-renowned Sixth Corps, W right’s chosen host of oft-tried men: Like upheaved, jagged ledge of rock, Unmoved, these now return the shock.

X IX ’Tw ere vain to tell the horrors o’er, That now befell the remnant corps,— O f dead and dying strewed around, O ’er long and hard contested ground, O f iron storm and leaden hail, Defiant shout, expiring wail, Battalions charging, ordnance flying, O f horses rearing, plunging, dying, And all the din and fire and smoke, And how at last they wavered, broke, And scattered wide their remnant ranks, When thousands had o’erlapped their flanks.

XX Last night a grand, proud army lay, In calm repose and conscious might, Beneath the moon’s subduing ray, Entrenched on every neighboring height: O ! who could dream the rising day, Should see so changed, so dire a sight! — T hat whole vast host to fragments riven, 29 4

And down the Valley panic driven!

No power the frenzied rout can check, No mortal power the field can save; As well command the driving wreck T o pause before the mountain wave.

Through smoke and mist, the blood-red sun Beholds the field already w on: ’Twas wisely planned, and nobly done, Although at fearful bloody cost; For ne’er was field more bravely lost.

XXI W ith slaughter surfeited, the foe No longer press so madly on, But swarm by thousands to and fro, Throughout the camps so dearly won.

O shame! that victors, crowned with glory, Should stain their page in this day’s story,— Where warriors true lie stark and gory, The palms within their grasps should yield, And stoop to plunder on the field.

X X II The routed army, rushing down, Have left sequestered Middletown Behind them, in the winged race, Before they slack their flying pace.

Now, all across the lovely Valley, Ride to and fro the mounted bands, Discoursing martial airs, to rally The troops, still deaf to all commands; Nor all in vain, for toward their flags, A ll tattered to illustrious rags, Dejected, shamed, they turn their feet, T o form for orderly retreat; While still the rearward, random boom, Like hollow voice of pressing doom, Tells where the lagging victors come.

X X I II When early morn’s first straggling light Brought on the unexpected fight, 295

When first, unchecked, the rout began, The question passed from man to man, And through the throng unanswered ran, “ Where now’s the Chief? where’s Sheridan?

O ! where, at such a time, can be The chieftain ever yet victorious?

Can he be here, and living see The army that has made him glorious— Here, on this newly-classic ground, W ith bloody Fisher’s Hill in sight, Here, where the battle’s roaring sound Tells Winchester of deadly fight— In wild disorder torn and hurled, Ere yet the winged voice of fame, Unto the boundaries of the world Has heralded the hero’s name?

If he be here, it is his wont T o ever seek the battle’s front.”

Full soon the veteran rank and file Know their brave leader is not there And feel the less of shame the while T o know their idol has no share, Less wonder too, though more despair.

X X IV A h ! what commotion stirs the rank From center e’en to distant flanks?

W hat strange, transforming magic now Lifts up and lights each lowering brow?

Heard ye that distant, swelling cheer Repeated o’er and o’er again ?

Hark! down the lines it now comes near— ’Tis, ’tis the name of “ Sheridan!”

See, where erect and mounted high Upon his foaming, coal-black steed, Scanning the field with flashing eye, He scours the undulating mead!

A h ! now his charger courses nigh, W ith conscious pride and bounding speed!

Blow loud ye bugles! roll ye drums!

For, lo! the champion rider comes!

Now every head is instant bare, And every hat flies high in air, 296

Flags wave, drums beat, and bugles blare, And every soldier turns him there, And joins the loud, triumphant shout, Forgetting soon the shameful rout; For who, save toward the foe, can fly, Before his great commander’s eye ?

XXV Still on, o’er hill and steepy bank, The dashing horseman seeks the flank, Nor slacks his fiery charger’s pace T ill Custer meets him face to face.

The gallant trooper, stung with shame, With streaming eyes and shaking frame, And oath that tears his warrior heart, Before his squadrons there apart, Reins up beside his hero-chief, And on his breast sobs forth his grief— With struggling words inquires again, “ W hy did you leave us, Sheridan?”

XXVI The prince of troopers silence breaks, And like himself, bold answer makes: “ I ’m here again, and ere the sun This day goes down, shall all be won, O r all the remnant shall be lost” ; And well he keeps his valiant boast: Like flashing, double-edged swords, Leap forth his high commanding words; By plunging coursers borne amain, They fly o’er all the crowded plain.

From many a bugle’s brazen throat Swells out defiant, thrilling note; The distant, smoke-clad mountains hear And answer many a stirring air From fife and drum and tuneful horn, Unused and silent all the morn; And soon, before his sweeping glance, The far-extending lines advance, W ith banners flying as they go T o meet again the exulting foe.

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XXVII O n, on, they sweep, with steady tread, Through intervening wood and mead*, Anon the loud-mouthed cannons roar, Begins the musketry to rattle, Sw ifter the waves of combat pour, A n d widen into surging battle*,

Again the conflict fierce is on, Between the stubborn foe, who die T o save the field they thought was won, And those who fight beneath his eye Whose name is now their battle-cry.

The howling, thick, metallic storm Tears through the frighted, scattered swarm*, Like avalanche from cloud-capped steep, Out from the smoke of battle sweep T h e heavy squadrons on the run, W ith sabers flashing in the sun*, D ow n, down o’ er hill and rocky gorge, W ith bugles sounding “ to the charge,” Crushing beneath their iron feet T h e trooper hurled down from his seat,

As fast as spur and yell can urge, They rush, a sweeping, with’ ring scourge.

On, on, among the fleeing foe, W ith sabers plying fast, they go, And many a cloven head lies low.

X X V III Thus fares the flank, the center now, Its wings borne back like bended bow, Quits the unequal, deadly tray,

And o’er the landscape breaks away.

Right on the charging foot and horse— O ’er many a ghastly, mangled corse, By many a bleeding friend and foe, W ho smiles, or frowns, as on they go— T h e vanquished scattered host pursue.

Now burst the camps upon the view!

And bursts a loud, victorious cheer!

And many a silent, grateful tear Flows down the cheeks of comrades there, W here all day long, in stiffened gore,

They’ve prayed to hear that sound once more.

The camps are gained, the field re-won; Behind North Mountain sinks the sun, And wearied Death’s day’s work is done.

1 Over the warrior’s grave, Let the true-hearted weep; Bright Shenandoah’s wave, Murmur thy music deep, Where in thy valley sleep Calmly the brave.

2

Long shall thy graves be seen, Longer their glory last, Fresh still, and evergreen, Shrined in the past— Men from the Pilgrims’ Rock, Fighting for “ Stripes and Stars,” Brothers of common stock, Fallen with “ Stars and Bars” — Cursed be the flag they bore, Cursed be the name they wore, Pardoned the fallen braves; Thank God, the war is o’er, These are the Nation’s graves.

3 Here shall the ploughshare glide, Beaten from saber blade; Here, by the crystal tide, ’Neath the broad vineyard’s shade, Peace, with her waiting maid, Plenty, shall bide.

4 W e, the survivors, here Bury our enmities, Dropping a silent tear O ’er the sad memories.

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Heirs and co-heirs are we— Let us be friends again, Cherishing liberty, Birthright of every man, Bondman and free.

J a m e s B u c k l e y B l a c k , D e P a u w ’ 62

T H E C O N V E N T IO N P O E M , 1883 I from out the lightning and the thunder, Upon the mountain’s brow, Gave to the prophet that great law whereunder His chosen ones must bow— W rit higher in that Scripture’s sacred story, And held by Him above All other law— shone in resplendent glory The sweet, strong law of Love. hen

G

od,

II When the sad, passionate twilight shadows blending Closed down the mountain-side Whereon the sacrificial blood was spending When Christ was crucified, The last words ever borne to ear of mortals There from God’s wounded Dove, Before He passed up through the sinless portals, Breathed the sweet thought of Love.

III From orange groves, from vine-clad hills of summer, From colder northern lands: From the blue waves that softly sing and murmur On Californian sands; Here, in obedience to that law of heaven, Perfect, divine, complete— That mandate to the world of her God— given, Bound in love’s chains we meet!

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IV W ith full hearts beating high with exultation For the fair land which stands A sign for age from nation unto nation Over all other lands, From mountain wilds, from immemorial rivers, From inland and from sea, W e meet to give thanks to the Prince of Givers That He hath made us free.

V A h ! though © across the wide Atlantic water W e catch the weakened cry O f fainting men ’mid carnage and red slaughter, W ho rail at God and die; Where, as amid the lights on dome and steeple Their trampled manhood moans, Men hear, above the wailing of the people, The crash of falling thrones; VI Yet we being free, and linked in love’s devotion Beneath this western sky, Where peace smiles sweet from ocean unto ocean, Bend to no flags that fly— Save one which knows no monarch’s high dominion, Whose silken folds are fanned By the broad winds that stream from freedom’s pinion Across the kingless land!

V II And though long since our land was hot with battle; And field and hill and wood, Echoing with sabre clang and musket’s rattle, Ran red with hero blood; And life-blood from the nation’s heart was spouting, And men could hear afar “ The thunder of the captains and the shouting” Over the din of war.

V III Yet now the battle’s heavy smoke has faded In mist and light away, 301

W e know that bitter death-locked conflict aided T o link the blue and gray In bonds, which, binding one heart to another, Give us that supreme grace T o hold men close as brother unto brother, W ho once stood face to face.

IX W hat are the tokens, then, we bring, my brothers, T o this fair feast of soul ?

Are they not those things taught us by our mothers, Which grow not ever old?

How duty done is duty’s sweetest guerdon; How courage, truth, and faith Shall help us better bear life’s heavy burden Toward the peace of Death ?

X The secret mysteries old times have taught us Around the inner shrine, The comfort that a brother’s hand-clasp brought us, The memories half divine, Wherewith life’s pathway as we tread is brightened, Life’s sorrows made less drear— These shall not fade until our souls are lightened In a diviner sphere.

XI And in the heavenly fields beyond the River Where life is always young, Doubt not that we shall hear the echoing quiver O f songs our boyhood sung; Doubt not that these sweet bonds of earthly making Shall knit us closer still When on our eyes the eternal lights are breaking, When our glad hearts shall thrill X II Beneath the clear, calm eyes which closed in sorrow Upon the blood-stained tree, T o open to an everlasting morrow O f glad eternity.

O , doubt not then, my brothers, in that glory Around— beneath— above,

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Shall come the full fruition of our story, The perfect flower of Love!

X III But till that time shall come spare no endeavor T o lift the banners high— T o make the name and meaning pure forever O f Beta Theta Pi; T o show unto the world how faith and duty, Followed by night and day, Can make her mystic symbols blaze with beauty Which shall not pass away.

X IV Be steadfast to the high trust in your keeping, Be watchful and be true, Let not the serpent apathy come creeping Between that trust and you; Follow the paths where Wooglin’s hands have pointed W ith never-swerving feet, And you will rest at last with God’s anointed, Where love and goodness meet.

XV Brothers, through all life’s shade and sunshine fleeting, Where’er your paths may lie, God speed your onward steps! Brothers, my greeting In Beta Theta P i!

And may the eternal sunshine find us banding As we have done to-night, Crowned with “ the peace which passeth understanding” Upon God’s Hills of Light!

Jam es L

in d say

G

ordon,

Virginia ’ 78

T H E T O U R N E Y P R IZ E (The Convention Poem, 1885) f

'l* l o n e Tintagel’s realm an ancient castle lifts T o dewy skies its gray and gleaming walls, And o’er each massive tower and battlement The nestling mosses creep, and ivies fling

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Fantastic sprays of dusky green; and when T h e sum m er’s kiss lies warm on wood and wold, T h e m ating swallows build their nests upon T h e pendent eaves, and fill with m elody T h e rose-flushed evening air. A nd, hither on His Destrier borne, a gallant horseman comes, A ll bright with fluttering robes and armor’s sheen, A s blushing poppies in the sunlit fields O f M ay, or gorgeous bannerets that flaunt T h eir silken folds o’er A rthur’s palace hall.

Sir L io n el ’tis, of the famous Table Round, W h o comes to w oo the lily-brow ed L egern e; T h a t dwells w ithin those ancient halls. N ow hand In hand they stray beside the moat that binds Its silver circlet round the castle’s walls, A n d lingering in the bower the w ild rose builds, T h e y whisper o’er that magic tale that youth W ill e’er to beauty tell, as long as w ild Hearts beat within the passionate breast o f man, O r amorous blood throbs in his tingling veins; A s lo n g as m orn shall scatter flowers in T h e m eadow s of the east, or w ith her dusky scarf T h e n ight shall staunch the bleeding wounds o f day.

H is hands stray thro’ the mesh o f tangled gold H er tresses w eave upon his breast, where now H er head is softly pillowed. M addened by T h e love that flashes from their darkling eyes T h e ir lips together cling in rapturous kiss.

Indeed all things around in earth and sky, Darkness, and ambient air, and babbling waves, D o seem to breathe of love. T h e burning stars A re gleam ing in the azure sky like drops O f golden rain. T h e murmurous wind that frosts T h e silver on the lakelet’s breast is faint W ith kisses from ten thousand dreaming flowers.

From yonder copse wood’s heart where darkness throws Her trailing veil the lonely nightingale’s Ecstatic song rolls tiny waves of golden sound, As sweet as bells that chime at evensong, O r lay the minstrel trolls within a twilight bower.

And all the while the rill that trickles down T h e mossy rocks and weaves its flying dance T h e many meadows through, croons to

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The pallid lily dreaming on its breast.

O for a heart all drunk with wine of love, And lips steeped in Parnassian dew, to tell The tale Sir Lionel whispered to Legerne That starry night in lone Tintagel’s realm!

A sterner theme now claims the muse’s song.

For Lionel speaks of deeds of prowess done In battle field, when stern-browed war had loosed His red-tongued hounds, and taught the hills And fields where erst at noon the shepherd piped A pastoral strain beneath the willow’s greenery, O r wild birds’ song from blooming hedgerows throbbed Upon the peaceful air, to ring with shields That clash, and spears that shock, and charger’s neigh, And ocean-sounding shout of battling hosts.

O f prizes, too, and guerdons from the hands O f ladies fair, he tells, and says that yester e’en A horseman to his castle came, and with One blast upon his silver horn gave tongue T o all its hundred slumbering echoes, A wandering herald who had ridden far Thro’ many a land, where high o’er head the north Star burns in icy skies, and where the mists By booming oceans pitch their spectral tents, And thro’ fair southern dells, where palm trees wave Their tufted plumes o’er tropic seas, and told A t every castle gate and palace hall, King Rhoul of Grail would give a tournament T o grace his nuptial feast. From every land, Where songs were sung by wandering troubadours In praise of those who won the Tourney prize, Brave knights would come to try their might And skill with steed, and brand, and burnished shield.

Fair ladies, too, from silk-hung stalls would cheer Each faltering heart and wearied knight with veils Down flung to wear on mailed arm and casque.

The prize was rich beyond compare, and worth The ransom of a king, a knightly sword, W ith trusty blade, and jeweled hilt, and bracelet made

By Merlin ere Vivian bound him in the tower.

Around the bracelet’s band two serpents wound Their golden scales in many a lustrous coil, And flashed from jeweled eyes strange, weird

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And fitful gleams of fire. The knight who clasped This bracelet round his lady’s arm should have Her love and trust, till cruel death should still W ith icy hand and cold her beating heart.

‘And now,” says Lionel, “ ere morning light Her beacons on yon eastern hills my barque Shall spread her sails. For, oh! my love, I swear

By Cupid’s bow, and by the rising moon That tips with silver sheen the forest boughs, M y hand shall win and bind that bracelet round Your arm that oft has nestled next my heart, And thrilled beneath my kiss.” She heard, but as A prophet’s voice of woe breaks through the notes O f festal song, or clamorous tocsin’s clang That rings the loud alarum in the castle tower And stills the mirth and laughter in the wassail hall, And makes all pale the cheeks that erst were red W ith love or wine; so in the frighted heart O f pale Legerne a voice does seem to still The whisperings of love and doom-like rings And cries woe on Sir Lionel’s quest beyond the sea.

In vain she tries to still its murmurs. Like The bell the ocean surges toss on sunken reefs, And which each moment wilder, madder peals Sends forth across the tempest-darkened sea, This voice cries on, and on, and on, Until at last she tells her fear, and begs Him by his oft repeated vows of love Not to attempt the dangers of the false And fickle sea, for should the ocean lie Between their hearts, she ne’er should see him more.

She weeps, and sobs, and clings, and pleads, but sobs, And weeps, and pleads, and clings, in vain. Sir Lionel thinks Him of the bracelet’s power to make this love Immortal and will not heed her prayer. * * * The last faint clanging of his horse’s hoof Has died away, and the glimmer of his form Fades in the forest’s darkening gloom. No soul Is near to hear the maiden’s sobs, or see The pallid hue pain writes upon her brow.

But piteous night and the ivy which the wind Has kept awake, can see and hear, and fain 306

Would silence in her breast the voice of woe.

O ’er rustling wood and moonlit mold, o’er tarn And fell, there broods a peace like that which fills An angel’s breast who dreams in Paradise; It only seems to mock her wild unrest.

The long procession of the stars in golden robes Pursues its endless march across the sky, And seems on every beam to waft Legerne A message full of hope. Afar she sees The mountains bare their lovely brows unto the kiss O f heaven; they, too, seem to say, “ Despair not,” And soothed and lulled, the wings of hope Begin to flutter in her heart. A t last The maiden turns her to her couch and falls Into a slumber, deep and restless, full O f strange, fantastic, ever-changing dreams.

She seems to wander with Sir Lionel thro’ A shadow-haunted wood, and stern and grim The mountains loom and with their jagged peaks Enclose the landscape as with a ponderous crown.

Strange, changeful fires burst in variant hues And ever veering forms, one moment on Their sight, and soon fade trackless in The night. Anon they gleam again in Shapes more wild, and break and wheel and dance, And lead the knight and lady on, and then A soft, low music swells from elfin horn And fairy shell, and lingers dreamlike on The enchanted ear. A t last they reach a mere That nestles at the mountain’s foot. Dark yew Trees throw mourning shadows o’er murky wave And only here and there the wavelets sparkle in The moonlight streaming cold and chilling through The tossing boughs. They find a tiny boat Amid the bank reeds moored, and guided by An unseen power they soon embark upon The swirling stream, and phantom-like their boat Glides thro’ the golden-hearted water-lilies that clasp The moonbeams to their breast, until they gleam Like pearls a mermaid strings by coral seas.

On, on the shallop fleets to where one tall And lovely flower lifting its chalice from The dark mere’s darkest part, rocks to and fro

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Like the cup some reveller waves around his rose Crowned brow in drunken glee. They float beside It now. Legerne bids Lionel pluck it for The ringlets of her hair. He leans far o’er The water and his fingers close upon T he fragile stem; two snowy arms rise from The mere and seize the daring knight and drag Him down beneath the closing waves. A shriek Like that which comes from breaking hearts shrills T he castle hall, and Legerne wakes from her dream.

The crimson folds of morning’s banners flaunt Already in the heavens, and the swallows preen Their dewy plumes beneath the lattice or They burst into their morning song. Moved by This dream she fears again that doomful voice That warned the night before, and sends her page T o bid Sir Lionel forego this dangerous quest.

Alas, too late! his barque had sailed before Her message came, and when she heard these words Despair was lord within her aching heart.

Meanwhile Sir Lionel o’er the sea spared not His steed nor might, but won the Tourney prize; The sword already dangled by his side, And soon his love would wear the bracelet’s gold.

His barque is homeward bound, his native cliffs Gleam o’er the sunset seas. The whispering winds Make melody in the glimmering sails, but love Sings in his loyal heart a sweeter song.

The waves swell proudly on the ocean’s breast, But prouder throbs the blood within his veins.

The fleecy cloudlets build enchanted halls In Western skies, but his exultant hopes Build statelier forms. When lo! one shrill, Pained cry rings through the startled air; He sees his loved page battling with The hungry sea, and quick as lightning-flash, O r sabre gleam, he springs into the sea, When oh! the broidered mantle clings around His struggling arms. He sinks ne’er more T o rise again. The helmet plume alone Marks where he sank, and like the lily in The maiden’s dreams, rocks to and fro upon the wave.

T

homas

D

abney

308

M

arshall,

Mississippi ’ 82

M EM NON (The Convention Poem, 1887) PROEM iv es

th ere a line in the realm of verse,

A line unsung by a bard of earth ?

Runs there a rhyme of joy or curse Unheralded yet by the bells of birth?

Floats there rhythm of musical thought Ne’er from the home of far Fancy brought?

W hy not? or is Fancy-land fringed with crepe?

And the fair dweller there, from her siren shape Shrunken and shriveled and old and dead, And mouldered to dust in her cloud-pillowed bed?

Oh, hovers there over this mortal land A theme untouched by the minstrel hand?

Is there a feeling that fancy hath known Y et unmatched by the poet’s tone ?

Are there strains more sweet than we ever heard Waiting a master’s will and word?

Are there plumed thoughts awing on the air That ne’er have been limed in the hunter’s snare?

If such there be, I would spread a net O f gossamer texture, that should not fret, Yet hold near the earth the bright thing awhile, That you might gaze on its beauty and smile.

I would plant decoys on the dancing sea That should take on life from the sea-swing free, And thus lure down from its dizzy height The sun-lit thought to a lower flight.

O r I would burn on a sandal shrine Rare herbs whose perfume should tempt the divine And star-born thing to descend from its place, And bless your eyes with a glance at its grace.

And yet, why ask for a vision so bright? ’Twould tinge all else with the hue of night; ’Twould dazzle the eye with a flame so intense, That sweet things and true would prove but offense.

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Then, let my lines ring modest rhymes: Yet, like the yearly Easter chimes, Fall welcome on your loving hearts— Though old the song my strain imparts.

POEM

I The river glideth ’midst the reeds and flags Like some great serpent winding through the land; I feel the tremor of its mighty pulse As it throbs on atoward the mightier main.

The shrieking night-bird wings its course aloft And wails aloud the last watch of the night.

The hideous crocodile, with lunge and plash, Seeks for its unsuspecting prey within The marsh and river. Deep in heaven the stars Are lost, and no moon cheers the ebon hour.

Wind-phantoms sigh amid the frightened trees, And moan among the lonely classic ruins; Then scurry o’er the stretching plain, witch-driven; And then, anon, intangling with the fringe O f river-grass, they whistle down the shore— Mad sprites to terrify the wave and waste.

Down in the south and west the pyramid And sphynx pierce black and awful through the dense O f night, unseen, but felt, their huge-piled presence.

The chill of dismal dreams bedews the earth, And Egypt shivers in this hour before The dawn.

Alone and lost, I longing wait The day.

Is it not now the day-tide hour?

Y et no grey mantle sheets the orient sky.

W hy stays the Day ? What keeps the kingly Sun ?

W ho reins his champing barbs, that I see not Their flashing eyes and flaming manes rise now Above that further bank? Have shadows fallen Forever o’er this wide, sad world? W ill God’s Bright day bless not again the sleeping people ?

The winds grow almost still. Have they caught ear O f Day’s glad hoof-beats clattering up the hill W ay of the paven East?— Oh, come, fair Day! M y heart grows wild with waiting while I watch!

3 10

Is murder in the land? Hath crime made thee Ashamed to shine upon us? Hast thou turned T h y course to other, purer worlds?— O Day! W hy lingerest thou? ’T is dark! Thine hour is here!

But thou— oh, now the powers of Darkness clutch M y soul, and bear me down, and strangle me W ith their wild, cold and sickening grasp!— O Light O f Heaven— ah, list! was that the echo of M y desperate cry cast back from yonder stone In mockery of my waiting anguish ?— Day, I will go find thee! T o the rim of yon Far peak I ’ll climb and watch thy coming. At The water’s edge I pause. But I must cross, If I would find the light. I lay my hand Within the river’s— ah, like Death’s own palm, So chill and unsustaining doth it meet Mine own. I shrink in terror and in doubt Aback from that cold passage. Day delayed, Break through Night’s wall, and melt the chains of Dark­ ness!

I cannot cross to thee.

Upon the earth, In my despair and crazing helplessness, I flung my fevered self, and covered up Mine eyes to hide the very night.— Again!

This time a voice, and not mine own, for I Have lain, scarce breathing for, it seems, an age.

Perhaps some brother traveler crieth out For light. O mortal, mortal, welcome in This darkness! stretch thine hand and let me clasp Some comfort from my maddening loneliness.

No mortal answers me.— ’Tw as sound— a voice, I heard, but not of mortal; yet a wail, And kindred to mine own— for light. I felt Its moan akin throb brother-like along The tissues of my being. W ho needeth light Save mortals?— List!— “ O Sun!” — from brazen lips, O r stone, mayhap. Cry on, thy wail is mine: “ O Sun! the Spirit of the fearful Night Enshroudeth us; her black wing hath fanned out The stars and moon from heaven; her misty breath Doth chill the land, and settle down in cold

3"

And clammy dews; her legions clamor for Dominion,— oh, deliver us, great Sun! ” In fearful silence lay I there upon M y face. Should I look up? Was not Day dead?

And were not light and love and life all gone?

As from some soft hand on my head, I felt A thrill of warmth steal to my chilling brain.

Was it the last mad effort of my soul T o live? Would now the life forsake the clay, And fly in search of light, and leave my mortal Upon the flag-blown bank of Egypt’s Nile— Rare food for yonder crunching crocodile?

Farewell, old earth; and yet, with mortal eyes, Once more I ’d look upon thy face. I raised M y head— O Day! thy sun was there! As o’er he streamed The desolate wave, a treasure-bearing sail W e long had ceased to hope for drifts in sight, And cleaves the billows of despair, Athwart the late cold Nile, and gave a glow Unto its bosom; o’er the plain and height His beams shot with the warmth of life and beauty; Above me rose the sitting figure of A royal statue,— twain were there, indeed,— And as I gazed with grateful eyes upon The world new-leased from Darkness, came a sound From its great marble mouth: “ The Night is gone; Be glad! The Day is come; be glad! ” I know Not if those words were mine or Memnon’s own; But sure I heard those lips give forth a sound, And maybe I did fashion words from mine Own gladness, thinking that the statue spoke.

Oh, be that as you will; I care not; but I know that that wild hour of darkness and O f waiting; that deep, starless, lightless hour; That hour of dread, lest Day should come no more; That hour, when shadows, pierced by no faint gleam, Not e’en the glow-fly’s welcome tiny lamp, When shadows, darker than I thought the shades O f Death could grow, pressed life and soul hard down 312

T o earth; when dissolution fluttered o’er M y pain; and Nature, pitying, shrieked out for Relief,— that hour had passed, and light and warmth And life had sweetly come to me again.

The earth was fairer than its yesterday; The lotus-lilies fed my soul to calmness W ith their rare perfume; and the flags dipped with The new day’s breath that stirred them, giving thanks W ith me and welcome to the grateful Day. Old Nilus fared slow onward to the sea, And blushed beneath Aurora’s tender glances— The Sun’s fair sister in the dews of morn.

Wings vari-hued and gorgeous cleft the sweet air Like messengers that sped awing with sunbeams; While, with the river’s current, dallied down, With snow-dashed breast and warming eye, bright Leda, By her fond mate close followed and beloved— And wooing on the river, thus they passed.

Back on the plain, amid tall, stately palms, That shaded all the sweet and holy precinct, And bore upon their generous branches fruit O f luscious meat, a temple lifted glad Its morn-lit dome and spires; and as the breeze From westward bounded on to greet the Light That leapt above the eastern shore, it bore A song to me from psalming priests of God. I looked up at the great stone at whose feet, Age-sandaled, I had dropped my night-worn self; I looked up at those great, dark lips— those lips That had the breath of centuries upon them— Long-carven in those dead, yet deathless years— Those lips that greet the Light each morn— that late With me had wailed out in waiting anguish, But they were mute; desire had been fulfilled, And they were satisfied. And, too, methought, In their huge grimness even, the lines the sculptor Had chiseled on them, now were bowed somewhat And softened into smiles, and there was now A gentle calm spread o’er the sun-bathed face.

And as my spirit sank to restfulness On that soft morn beside the lilied Nile,

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After that lonely night, there came to me, I know not why— my mother’s lullaby, Unsung to me a rounded score of years; I closed mine eyes and heard my mother sing: 1

“ Odors come from yonder field, T o their sweets my senses yield; Flowers are blushing on the vine, And I know their God is mine; I feel his love in their sweet breath, And love shall live beyond all death— Lullaby, my child!

2

“ Stars are kindling heaven’s far heights, Angel hands are holding lights; W ith a Father’s love they shine, And I know their God is mine; I feel his love in their soft light, And love shall gleam thro’ darkest night— Lullaby, my child!

3 “ Winds are wandering down the vale, Whispering each some gentle tale; They are led by hands divine, And I know their God is mine; I feel his love in their low tone, And love shall leave me not alone— Lullaby, my child!”

A single sail shot out from the further shore, And I was with my human kind once more.

II On the banks beside the river, In the starlessness of night, Where the long reeds wave and quiver And the flags have no delight; Through the sable veil that flutters Like the stricken pulse of life,—

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I can hear a voice that utters Words with moan and longing rife.

And the echoes ’round it falling— Breaking from a thousand lips— Name a thousand spirits calling From the depths of Light’s eclipse.

In the shadows thickly shrouding, Hearts are lying chilled for death: W ho shall come their night unclouding, That they breathe the morning’s breath?

Brothers, men are waiting, longing For the touch of love’s warm hand; Hearts are thrilling, hearts are thronging On yon dark shore’s treacherous sand; Clouds of ignorance are hiding Their clear vision of the stars; And life’s thunders o’er them riding Sound like judgments from Heaven’s bars.

They know not how short the way is T o the hearts of human kind; They guess not how near the day is— For their bitter life is blind: W ho shall light these hearts to gladness?

W ho shall lift these souls to light?

W ho shall give their waiting madness Morning beams to chase the night?

They are crying, hands outstretched,— “ W e would live, but death is here!

Darkness crowns us, lost and wretched, Lashed with blindness, fed with fear!

Y e who have the light, come to us!

Y e who have warm hearts, we wait; Ere the darkness may undo us, Open to us morning’s gate! ” Brothers, do you hear their crying Just across the river there?

Do you list their voice undying Cleaving like a shaft the air—

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Shot from heart-strings stretched to aching, Sped from spirits bent like bows?

Are we sleeping, are we waking, On this side beneath the rose?

W ith their cry comes Nature’s burden Echoing from her every stone, Like a mother’s wild prayer heard in Homes where starving children moan: Shall our hearts keep cold and flameless?

They should warm to duty’s hour; Shall our lights burn far and nameless?

They should torch the world to power.

Let us up and cross the river In a bark with sails of white; Let us pierce the night-tide’s shiver, Swinging wide the gates of light; Let us meet our brothers lying In the dark at Memnon’s feet: Light of Truth and Love undying— Let these be our offering meet.

Heave, ahoy! the ship “ Victoria” Lieth at the dock in wait; Shout as one our gladdening “ gloria,” Gird we with the belt of Fate.

O ’er the shimmering Nile we’ll speed us, Rowing hard and fast and strong; For the waiting spirits need us— W e have kept them waiting long.

Wolfert at the helm stands Master, (God the greater guideth him,) And love’s winds bear us the faster T o yon darker shore and dim.

As we grasp the hands held to us, L ift them to our lives and hearts, W e grow stronger as thrills through us Strength that duty done imparts.

Gather lilies, now, and weaving Chaplet sweet and fair in one,

3j 6

Crown the old stone we are leaving— Memnon in the morning sun; For, by his wild cry outsinging, Moved by Nature’s breathing soul, W e were called, in answer bringing Succor ’cross the river’s roll.

Hoist up anchor once more, Brothers, Sail we, oar we down the Nile, On whose banks mayhap are others Veiled away from Life’s true smile: In our hearts keep Love’s warm glowing, In our lives keep Truth’s bright core, And howe’er the winds keep blowing— List for Memnons on the shore.

L a f a y e t t e R u p e r t H a m b e r l i n , Richmond ’ 92

July 7, 1887 T H E C O N V E N T IO N P O E M , 1888 E m a n and his fortunes, friends, would I proclaim

Who first to college a barbarian came.

The years roll by and youths to manhood bring; And life’s stern toil succeeds to childhood’s game.

Yet, passing, to our earlier joys we cling, Knowing maturer pleasures ne’er will be the same.

So thinking with regret of village greens And all the simple pleasures of his youth, Our modest hero came to different scenes W ith high regard for wisdom, base-ball, truth!

He walks, rejoicing, Learning’s storied halls; W ith little less than awe professors greets; And, seeing wisdom lurk in very walls, Gazes with reverence at the senior seats.

The weeks passed on. He saw the college life, He saw its manly side, he saw its shams, Began to grow a beard, bethought him of a wife, Looked down on village mates as very lambs.

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He learned to love the gentle college man (And eke the maiden too, if truth were told! ) And now the first named laid his little plan, A plan deep laid, ingenious, not too bold, Whereby to trap th’ aforenamed guileless youth Into his glorious, great and potent “ Frat,” And, knowing him to have regard for truth, Resolved to deal but tenderly with that.

But other frats there were and other men And other plans as deep laid, full, as this.

T o tell them o’er would be to give again The schemes our first considered not amiss.

And now our friend became like that small land That lieth near the Pontus’ bosom wide.

That plaything, toy of every power’s hand, Whose fortune’s ebb and flow is like the tide. *

*

*

The clans have gathered and their claymores reek!

The victim stands dismayed within the ring.

The Scotsmen vanish; now, ’tis Greek to Greek Their ardent blows make the hard metal sing!

This man with ready tongue and boldened mien Tells that his friends are wealthy, learned too; And oft the victors in the sports are seen; And when it comes to honor, are true blue.

Another boasts his comrades high enrolled Upon the scroll of Poesy’s fair fame; Disdains athletics and gross talk of gold; But glories in blue blood, a grandsire’s name.

A third believes in revelry, forsooth!

Bespeaks the pleasures of the flowing bowl.

No man can have, says he, more than one youth. “ T ’ enjoy yourself” — this be your only goal.

Three champions stand defeated; but a fourth Advances confident upon the scene; 318

Lifts as for inspiration to the frozen North An eye clear, hopeful and serene.

And he tells “ O f a scene where brothers greet, Where true kindred hearts do meet A t an altar sending love’s sweet incense high; Where is found without alloy Purest store of earthly joy— ’T is within the halls of Beta Theta P i!”

His deep voice trembled, and his eye grew dim As with a boldness, knowledge-born, he spake O f all the Beta boys had been to him; What strong, true friends they were, what care they take O f brothers seized with sickness, or in trouble; How firm they stand together for the right.

So well he spake, their virtues all seemed double, And Beta faults, if any, sank from sight.

That evening, ere the glorious sun went down It shone upon a convert Beta boy!

And soft pink clouds ’gainst heaven’s blue were thrown As if to show the Beta angels’ joy!

And they called the silver grays around; W ith their deep basses, maidens’ trebles blended As Betas all conspired to raise the sound Which in this song to highest heaven ascended: O Beta Theta Pi, thou friend of my college days, Not perfect art thou, but true as steel In all thy pleasant ways!

The three stars shine, their lustre undimmed, But my eyes are full of tears.

God bless thee— thy boys and thy silver grays— In the fulness of useful years.

G e o r g e C l a r k e C o x , Kenyon ’ 86

319

ODE T O THE GREEKS The Convention Poem, 1890 ^

I

a banquet of the gods Where shades of Greeks are wont to sit; While drowsy Zeus imperial nods, They talk philosophy and wit, ’T ill oft repeated sup From Hebe’s melting cup Dissolves their sterner thoughts And leads to deeper draughts; Then laughing Mirth and Jollity Drive rude Concern and Care away.

And maidens fair, the Muses sweet, All bent on entertainment meet, Bring forth the pipe, the flute, the lyre, T o please with song, perhaps to fire With deeds heroic O f Grecian stoic, O r with the gentler theme of love T o fill with rapture or improve.

From cloud to cloud with anthem peals resound The rugged heights, Olympian, echo bound.

was a t

II First Erato to love attuned The sentimental lyre; W ith sweet impassioned sound The great Olympian spire And all the heavenly ether round W ith wild ecstatic tingle filled, And thrilled the heights profound.

O f Sappho sang the heavenly maid, “ ‘Sappho, sweetly smiling’ ; Fair enchantress, love-beguiling; A dwarfish form and swarthy face Ne’er could hide thy inward grace.

Other charms befit thee meet, Such thy talent, ways so sweet, Soul of love and will of steel,

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Feeling just as others feel Under Love’s most cruel sway— Passion burns the life away.

From Leucadia’s lofty peak Thou didst dare the ‘Lover’s leap’ ; But the cold Aegaean wave, Glad, returned to life the brave.

Solon, leaving wisdom’s shrine, In thy sunshine ways, benign, Catching once thy gentle strains— T h y poetic love refrains— Humbly at thy feet reclining, Spent his latest days repining, Longing but to learn thy songs of love And swan-like, singing, join the shades above.

Plato left his philosophic groves Where wisdom in her varied nature roves, And came a pilgrim to thy shrine: Y et he could not the fulness of thy love divine, For all the bitter-sweet of cruel Love were thine, O golden-haired Aurora, Sappho mine.”

I ll Euterpe, meditating long, Enraptured, caught the breath of song, The pipe’s entrancing notes the banquet’s din withhold, And then she sang melodious strains of Athens old, When Pericles his warriors bold Led out to deeds heroic. Then she told O f Phidias’ fame, “ W ho won a bright, immortal name By shaping beauteous words of art— A rarer nature set apart T o beautify life’s way; His fine attuned heart, Pure, heavenly fires had caught; No sluggish clod of clay His deft hands wrought; No mortal form could stay W ith rough, imperfect grace And faulty, human face; His genius soared above the real, And faultless forms ideal

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O f Zeus, Athena, the divine— A pantheon of beatific visions fine— Wrought he In gold and ivory.

Aspasia then to Athens came, Aspasia of Milesian fame.

A ll the skill of Phidias’ art Reflected but the faintest part O f her chaste and modest grace.

Her lovely, winsome face In hearts of statesman found a place.

E ’en Socrates was not too skilled in wit Humbly at her feet to sit And sip the eloquence divine That flowed from her unfailing mine: But Pericles did dwell beneath her smiles; And listening to her rich, enchanting tone, Did lose the statesman’s arts and wiles, Content to please Aspasia alone.

Where e’en stern war could never daunt, Love ran riot spite of taunt.

Subtle power thine, O Love— Power that mocks the gods above— Lowly bows the ruler great O f the grand Athenian state— Such oak-like form, mankind deceives, It oft to vine-like woman cleaves; Thus Nature’s laws, so oft rehearsed, Are sometimes, by herself, reversed.

Though Pericles, by man’s sole right, the crown may wear, Aspasia rules with subtle power, the city fair.”

IV Calliope, in grand, heroic strains The fame Olympian, in turn maintains O f Socrates, a god-like hero rare, Ignoring self, for man who dared to care.

His praise, proclaimed to all the listening throng, T he heavenly hosts with loud applause prolong. “ Immortal shade,” she sang, “ no greater name Can storied scroll or page archaic claim.

More famed than Socrates, a patriot, 322

For love of home and country, never fought.

Can Mars claim ought from such a gentle hand ?

Ask Potidaea, Delium: the land Could boast no soul that it did more elate T o bear privation sore for home and state.

A citizen— around the vast gymnasia, Where vulgar minds were wont to teach for hire, He spoke the words of truth as free to all As Heaven’s ether on Olympian heights.

When once beneath his charm, the youthful came, Chainbound his magic held them. He instilled Sweet words of comfort, cheer, or stern advice; The humble followed him, of better ways T o learn; the poor sought wisdom at that font O f truth that flowed so free and fresh to all; The erring came for consolation sweet, And for a helping hand to mended ways: And youth, whom wild ambition fired, to thrones O f power aspiring, sought from his pure lips Instruction wise; while base ignoble men, Impelled by confidence in human power, His sway o’er all the populace beheld, And vilely sought, though all in vain, to brush Him from their pathway as a worm is swept By humbler hands from beaten walks away.

A statesman, though ambitionless, twice raised T o rank official, Dauntless he withstood The clamors of the wild impassioned mob, And he did cow them down in shame at their Un-Greek-like cries for countenance of deeds Unlawful and for death unmerited.

The Thirty Tyrants’ stern decrees no more Than gentle summer zephyrs seemed to sway His will or ruffle his determination strong T o exercise, in Justice’s name, the laws.

Immortal Socrates, of poverty Thou suffered much that all mankind might reap O f their inheritance the lawful fruits.

So didst thou Justice love that when thy death Ambition’s tools fierce craved, thou took the cup And cheerily its poison dregs thou quaffed T o show how man to law should ever yield.

Thou loved thy god, and pagan though thou wert,

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T h y dying moments were in discourse spent Upon the soul’s immortal future state.

O love of man, of law, O love of God— Greek love— incarnate dwelt within thy pure And holy carnal frame, beloved Socrates of old.”

V Next Clio caught the heavenly fire, And snatched the wild, impassioned lyre; And while she strikes the martial strings, From her unerring scroll she sings: “ Sound the trumpet Beat the drums The Hellenic sun has set, A noble Macedonian comes, Listen! hear the measured beat O f thirty thousand marching feet!

In strong array, the bristling phalanx moves Thermopylean valor no more proves Sufficient to withstand That dauntless moving band.

Isle-set Aegean served No check to heroes nerved T o thus endure For honor pure Privation sore On foreign shore.

Swiftly move toward Egypt’s shrines, In close array, those serried lines The land’s humility the Sphinx in shame perceives, And with a veil of shifting sand its shame relieves.

The doom of all the land was read In that measured ominous tread O f thirty thousand marching feet Continuous as the ebb and beat O f waves upon a rocky strand.

Thence the hero swept across the land Where storied ruins still in mute complaint Beseech the passing sympathy of pilgrim, priest, or saint.

From far off Bactria’s rocky heights, Amid the Parsi’s sacred altar lights, The hand of fair Roxana then he sought, For queenly smiles were cheering while he fought.

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A bride more fair and sweet Ne’er sat at monarch’s feet— Though on the heights of Hindu Kush a wild rose grows, No fairer flower on Macedonia’s hilltops blows— On Indus’ sacred banks then sound The war drums’ beat. Philosophers profound, The mild-eyed priests by Brahma taught, Their stories of ancient wisdom brought Unto the youthful king Whose praises long they sing.

Then old Accad and Babylon Their fate, revealed, so justly won: Weird sounds of revelry appall, Prophetic of the Orient’s fall, A t last the monarch proud recalls The hero’s joys in banquet halls— He sighs, laments, and weeps, While his restless vision sweeps O ’er all the world in search of one Majestic kingdom still unwon.

Caring not to live in useless ease and love, He ended life and joined the shades above.”

VI Melpomene, by tragic deeds inflamed, The lyre’s fickle mood aloud proclaimed: Sweet bursts of song and melody at first resound Then die away and doleful tones abound.

The power of love she sweetly sings, The tragedy of love a sequel rings. “ Did Roman always conquer Greeks?

Hark, while Ptolemy’s daughter speaks.

The warrior, clad in coat of mail, Stands firm, though countless hosts assail.

But warrior, clad in coat of mail, By love is rendered helpless quite— His heart may never beat with fright, But under beauteous woman’s charm, His brazen front attempts no harm.

Though Caesar never yielded to a foe, Beneath fair Cleopatra’s glow He stood— a powerless child.

Oh, the soft radiance mild

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O f lovely eyes!

T h e soul of man replies: T h e heavenly stars, In clearest light, Cannot twinkle half so bright In the firmament of night, A s C leopatra’s lau gh in g eyes, M id those lovely blushing dyes, D arkened by those southern skies— A form that mocked the artist’s skill, A soul that glow ed beneath it till, T in g e d by passion’s m addening w ill Rom an blood was made to thrill W ith forgetfulness of all, W ith the recklessness to fall.

Caesar and proud Antony, N ever danger known to flee, F ell before the tingling dart, From tiny Cupid’s bow, by art O f Cleopatra let depart.

A ugustus cam e, that stern, cold m an— C up id bew are, you never can Such chilling sternness, sure, unm an— A ugustus came, but conquered not, F o r E g y p t’s queen ne’er once forgot T h a t her a noble G reek begot— N ot even m urm uring at her lot, A s bold as Socrates of old, She took the racking poison, aspen bred— Rome conquered Cleopatra— only dead.”

V II Polymnia, with sacred themes inspired, In holy-sweet communion sat, retired.

Aroused, her chanting tones, in solemn keep, E ’en gods Olympian doth cause to weep. “ Behold the conqueror dead, not so his deeds O f might. T h e W est had journeyed to the East Strange Hindu creeds to Greek philosophy W ere wed; E ’en to old Jordan’s holy strand, T h e Buddhist’s law a gentle influence spread; A w ay in Palestine anon was heard T h e mellow Grecian tongue, while in their play, 326

The Jewish children lisped Hellenic notes; A dove-like spirit brooded o’er the land, Begetting peace and quiet, holy thought: Then came the lowly Nazarene— the Christ.

W ith burning words of mild reproof, He chid The sinful Pharisee— the Scribe rebuked; W ith words of sympathy, He raised the poor; W ith eye of pity, looked He on the sick; And ever with a healing touch, strove he T o foul disease allay. The dread domain O f Death, he entered, fearing naught, his touch The cold and slimy coils with lifelike heat Instills; the bright life blood rebounds, And tingling, shoots along the opening veins: The widow’s heart burst forth with songs of praise— O Holy Life thus given back to man!

All ye Olympian pantheon sat mute ‘For man ne’er spake as this man spake’ Then fell ye gods before the living God. Olympia deserted, like the sites O f ancient monarchies, lives only now In memory of man, while helpless Zeus Sits nodding on yon throne of vanished power.”

V III Thalia quick, to pastoral song inclined, Sweet music breathes upon the Olympian wind. “ Heed not, ye gods,” she sang in soothing tones, “ These wild complaints and melancholy moans.

Lo, hark! inspiring music loud Rolls upward, upward, cloud on cloud; Mid fading fame and waning sheen O f this once gay Olympian scene From Wooglin’s shrine, sweet sounds arise, And fill the heaven’s etherial skies.

Greeks? Yea, and true; Greeks through and through, Who, like Diogenes of old, Dare bid the whole Barbarian fold Stand out the sunshine, lest the cold O f shadow chill Ambition’s fire, Determination’s will;

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W ithin that holy precinct they Deep vows to Alm a Mater pay.

There are bright youth at life’s gray dawn, N ot such as cringe, and writhe, and. fawn— T h e y are the noble bred and just In whose crude strength, the right can trust.

T h ere, too, are men in early prime Free from the very taint of crime; Rings firm and true their armor bright A s clangs the coat of storied knight.

Behold, they challenge sin and w rong!

U pon the air their paean song,

W ith truth and justice and the right Inspired, begets proud deeds of m ight.

T h e n there are warriors, true and tried, W^ith trophies pendant from the side*, A n d as you chance to read each name, T h e symbols of recorded fame Flash bright athw art the mental sky, A n d chain the sympathetic eye.

T h e r e , skilled in Aesculapian art T h o se w orthy seniors sit apart, O f every pain of head or heart T h e ir m agic potions heal the sm art.

T h o se Solons, in the erm ine go w n ,

N ot shaded by Suspicion’s frown, Rank far above vain world renown T h e jewels chaste in Justice’s crown.

A n d by their side in holy light— Behold the truly blessed sight— Apostles of the N azarene In radiant purity are seen— C ro w n s of pure im m ortal souls A w a it them here. W h e n tolls T h e ir life ’s release A n d earthly labors cease H o ly angels sure w ill greet, W it h gran d old anthem s, heavenly sw eet, T h e s e m inisters divine and m eet.

T h e r e , in pure robes of state, sit a round goodly score W h o m ake la w s to obey, and not to ign o re.

W h ile the people, re jo icin g in lo y a lty tru e, R e tu rn old m en to C o n g re ss instead of the n ew *,

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Until they solicit that recompense blest O f passing life’s evening in quiet and rest— Enlivened their pleasures, enhanced are their joys A t seeing their deeds then excelled by the boys’ ; Those silver-grays then, Are they honored of men?

Look once at their radiant faces when told That youth ever worship the righteous, when old.

Those silver threads mounting those temples so white More pure than the ermine are, in the world’s sight.

The victories they have achieved in the past Add a radiance, too, that forever will last.”

IX Terpsichore, long in unhallowed complaint, Rebels at the thought of all further restraint From delirium sweet and the ecstatic throe O f tripping so lightly the fantastic toe; But Urania, muse of all gods the delight, In attitude holy, in radiance bright, A sweet benediction pronounced on the air— And all the gods join in her true, earnest prayer— “ Y e are all growing old, ye Betas renowned, For your places though fairest of youth may be found, When ye reach the broad stream, with your laurel crowns won And your life work below shall be faithfully done, O Zeus, we implore thee, O gods, one and all; And Thou, great Jehovah, on whom the Jews call; And Thou, Nazarene, the true Saviour of all— One prayer each soul earnestly, longingly speaks, Take care of these children, the truest of Greeks.”

W

il l is

B o u g h t o n , Michigan ’ 8 1

T H E C O N V E N T IO N P O E M , 1891 inspiration of the Muse Which soonest comes, is one to cry: “ Excuse!”

Shall I join in? I know not why I should, M y rhymes, as verses go, are fairly good; Yet what you have imposed, the task to write, urely th e

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Never has been, and never can be light.

Even when Learning roused herself from sleep, Fresh from her medieval slumbers deep, O ’er finished books what fervent thanks ascend: Witness the “ Deo gratias” at their end!

Though burdened with a strong desire to please, The motley is not always worn with ease.

When people make of jest the leading part, And cultivate sheer nonsense as an art, M y observation: they obtain withal An education far too liberal.

Best moments (and most characteristic) fall A t most infrequent seasons,— if at all; And when my mind would sound its deepest notes, It seems, alas! like Ivory Soap: “ It Floats.”

In bygone days my modest fancy drew Some simple pictures of the scenes I knew, Y et now my pent experience’s range Seems out of touch with time’s advance and change; Nor knew I, writing, whether I should plan For crowded benches, or a single man.

As the famed Doctor Hunter, when he found His own assistant, lonely, on the ground, Asked him, before the lecture had begun, T o take from off its hook the skeleton, And seat it opposite himself, that then He might at least address them: “ Gentlemen.”

W hat spirit in these petty days unfolds The mighty name of poet, what it holds?

The power, the insight,— far beyond all art,— Which probes the deep recesses of the heart; The soul fine-tuned to passion’s lightest breeze; Communion with all silent mysteries.

Ah, no; a trifling, paltry gift of rhyme Can not create the Poet,— nor the Tim e When, ringing loud, a new Tyrtaeus-cry Not vainly calls,— for Fatherland to die!

When patriots, writhing with oppression’s smart, Strike on their harps and fire a nation’s heart: Some Arndt, whose war-cry in his martial line— “ Our Stream, but not our Border” — saves the Rhine; O r Korner, hunting hard the alien horde, W ho smites his Lyre till smitten by the Sword.

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I promise only, and for your relief, A t least the negative virtue, to be brief.

The realm of thought is large, nor can I hope Just here to reach its utmost verge and scope, And, though I read the long night-watches through, Must be contented with a partial view.

One drowns no sooner in deep ocean’s brine Than Clarence in his butt of Malmsey wine.

Not for their length shall verses longer last; So soon the Present turns into the Past.

No feverish toil can change the fixed decree That earth shall grant no immortality.

From Tim e’s dark tomb the stone slow Science rolls, And finds— some scattered sherds, some half-read scrolls.

W ho numbers all the rest sunk out of sight, Lost in the darkness of a starless night ?!

What else remains of proud Assyria’s sway Save wedge-shaped forms impressed in broken clay?

The warlike race which by the Danube ranged, Surged o’er its bounds,— and bounds of empires changed,— Hath surely left its proud memorials? Look!

The purple fragments of the Silver Book!

And in our own life-story, sadder far The soon-quenched blazing of some flaring star: The youth by doting parents marked for fame, In hopeful journals “ paragraphed” by name, Only to find youth’s dreams denied by age, Shelved in some library or parsonage, O r in some rural college doomed to brood In changeless, dull, unravished solitude.

A t life’s Home Plate he faces his career, Makes the loud-ringing hit which wakes the cheer; Up curves the ball,— fate’s Short-stop is in place,— And he retires this side of life’s First Base.

Short and unnoticed is our day and hour?

Double the need to augment thought and power!

Shall not Fraternity this gain effect, O r, borrowing Holy Church’s dialect, Sodality? In short (like Lessing’s plan), A wide, non-local, active league of man ?

I join not in the cry of “ clique” and “ set” :

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True friends deserve whate’er regard they get; Congenial friendship, dear as it is rare, Is, after all, well worth some thought and care.

Few precious fruits or flowers grow by chance, No worth too great for culture to enhance.

The name for scholarship by Whitney won, Our Motley’s place in the world’s Pantheon, Bridgman’s prized canvas, Richardson’s proud fanes, W ho counts their cost of countless time and pains?

Our native fault is not too ardent zeal In urging bravely on a common weal.

Rather is ours the cheap defect and vice T o seize the fruit of labor at half-price; That smartness, hardly short of trick and fraud, Which brings pretense at home, contempt abroad.

Show me another land beneath the sun Where tasks herculean are so deftly done; Where lifetime problems (in the good old way) Are settled in a summer holiday.

Here was brought forth, developed, or evolved Our own Great Solver of the Great Unsolved: In Congress, serving his adopted state By coarse abuse and ribald billingsgate; Next an astronomer, who seeks to roll From worlds still uncreate the fiery scroll; Now he unseals dead alphabets, to find Lost continents forgotten by mankind; Anon he comes before the world to show Its greatest genius an imposter low; Amid these mighty tasks still finding room T o steal the guileless Farmers and their Boom.

Gifts so transcendent ask more shining goal; T o crown his fame, go, let him seek the pole!

Having essayed to advocate the plan T o join the circle linking man to man, Bear with me now, if, in a brief aside, I here protest against that meanest pride, Sure of its place in the world’s Upper Ten, Calmly superior to “ other men,” Which would exclusiveness a fetich make, And cultivate it for its Own Dear Sake.

Progressive culture now no longer bears

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That cheap impertinence best known as “ airs.”

The solvent floods of truth and common sense Break down the flimsy structures of pretense, As on some summer day the thin-stalked grain Is drenched and beaten down by pouring rain: Nor will we this forget; that He, whose Name The service of our willing hearts doth claim, W ent out to seek the outcast in the storm, And took upon Himself a servant’s form.

Our democratic age is tired, as well, O f oath-bound secrecy and murky cell.

T o lay on human minds such heavy chains Honor refuses, self-respect disdains.

Tim e was when truth, pursued from earth’s broad round, Made midnight vows, and cowered underground; But in this day and land we well may ask, W hy need brave deeds to use the coward’s mask?

The fetters forged in Torquemada’s cave Suit not the free American, but the slave!

Those greatest souls, whose names make eras bright, Loved not the darkness, but the wholesome light.

Simplicity and greatness ever stand Like fairest sisters, clasping hand in hand; “ And truths which searching sages may not find Are known and practiced by a childlike mind.”

My brothers, seem my verses too severe T o fit the hopeful hearts that meet me here ?

Perchance, and yet the youngest of the young A t times feel thoughts too pensive for the tongue; Misgivings for the days that are to be, And grave forebodings of sad destiny.

What place have we in Nature’s heated strife, The crowded battlefield of struggling life?

Are not long years with books but thrown away, Judged by the heat and burden of the day?

— Are persons trained to thought still in demand?

Ask if a man have need of eyes or hand, O r if the tall bamboo, ’neath tropic skies, Be useful to our friends with almond eyes!

Ask, rather; in the weary lapse of time What marks man’s progress in his upward climb?

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Judge we by that which first attracts the crowd, Then measure by the striking and the loud: T o rear huge piles, each higher than the last, And scale achievements by the big, the vast; T o cunningly foresee the chance for gain, And seize betimes what others might obtain; T o grasp the people’s rights by force or stealth, By trading wealth for power, and power for wealth.

Sum up man’s conquests: what avails the whole If lost the great inheritance of Soul?

The old ideals, sordid minds above, The sense of honor, heroism, love; The loyalty to duty,— gain apart,— A quenchless passion in a noble heart.

Lose these from life: behold the simple law O f savage Nature “ red in tooth and claw” ; Our social scheme with all its boasted fruits But leaves us in the normal state of brutes!

The words which Goldsmith wrote in years gone by, T o regions nearer home may still apply: “ 111 fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay.”

Men of broad thought, brave heart, and fearless mind, Shall fight the forces which degrade mankind: The shameless corporate greed; the breach of trust Which brings a proud state’s honor to the dust; The easy conscience as to broken laws; The cool indifference to the public cause.

— “ I tried to bribe the jury,” — as in sport The sheepish bailiff says in open court; And yet no mob arose with fury grim, No hand was raised to tear him limb from limb!

W hat wonder outlaws brave the law’s weak frown Until illegal justice shoots them down?

What of our plundered cities, swayed by bribes, Worse governed than the haunts of savage tribes?

Where party leaders, ruling with a beck, Crack their shrill whips above the voter’s neck.

— Contriving politicians, do your worst, But look for shelter when the storm-clouds burst.

As when, near some side valley’s trickling rills, Far up among the silent, pine-clad hills, A mighty reservoir deep hidden lies,

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Which rains have swelled to twice its wonted size.

Dull sounds, while still the ceaseless torrents pour, The swelling music of its pent-up roar.

Through rifts within its dam of mouldering stones Which, shaken by the storm, now creaks and groans, The spurting jets that make their frequent way T ell of a static force scarce held at bay.

A crash! a burst! the mossy bulwarks fall, And, roaring downward like a cloudy wall, Hurling huge boulders with resistless force, Uprooting forests in its crashing course, Thunders the torrent with terrific shock, And scours the valley to its basal rock!

Onward the vast erosion sweeps, and then It wipes from earth the stanchest works of men; It wrecks great bridges in its maddened reel, And twists to shapeless curves their rails of steel; Vainly the solid town its course retards, But falls apart like a child’s house of cards; Nor spent its furious rage, nor held in check, T ill all is whelmed in one, wild, shapeless wreck.

Let bosses smile in secret as they may A t the long patience of their simple prey; One thing, my clever Sirs, shall mock your skill,— The great uprising of The People’s will!

W e need some fearless conscience to avert That reckless lavishness which would pervert The Nation’s care for those who in her strife Risked all they prized to save their country’s life.

W hat do we see ? Our treasure flung abroad W ith loose extravagance inviting fraud, Laying a heavier load such claims to meet, Than William’s army or Victoria’s fleet; Sinking our self-respect thus to degrade The patriot’s service to the hireling’s trade, And demagogues forever agitate That some smooth agent may ride out in state.

W e need (that to the nearing end I haste), The cultured man to speed the reign of Taste.

Look at our towns, of beauty how devoid,

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Smitten with architectural varioloid; Where florid buildings stand, ornate, and grim, Half stale convention, half licentious whim.

But better forms e’en now replace the old, As in our great metropolis we behold The Western Union’s deed of tasteless sin; The stately pile for presses of De Vinne.

In college life some long-continued ways Are, one may say, archaic in our days; Acts which elsewhere would land the man in jail, Live on, by hoary process of Entail.

In boyish violence rude hands are laid On native rights which states dare not invade, In foreign lands my cheek has burned with shame For the dishonor to my country’s name; There petty journals robbed their meagre space T o spread at large the tale of our disgrace.

Methinks already now has dawned the day Whose wholesome blasts shall blow these clouds away; Nor are,— though fogged by years of mist intense,— Signs wanting of a spasm of common sense.

Though some rough bully robes collegiate fill, He is a bully and a ruffian still.

T o smear a monument with crimson brush Would shame a Goth, and make a Vandal blush!

W hy, bending hell the English to dislodge, The crafty, devilish Sepoys spared the T a j ; Whose pearly dome swells softly in the air From out its spicy grove of fragrance fair.

Give to young spirits all their needed fling, Let generous contests lend them sway and swing, But let sound sense the noisy few resist, And put down bullying with a sturdy fist.

Though thoughts profound from wisest books we draw, Little is learned, if not respect for law.

Our earnest age for sturdier culture looks, Something more stirring than a love for books; Let not the scholar hide within his cell Shut from the world,— a frog within a well!

All our long toil is worse than spent in vain Unless mankind at large shall share our gain.

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— And, of all selfish sins to be deplored, From cultured ease deliver us, Good Lord!

Not rare are cases of this pleasing stripe, The frigid, calm, nil admirari type; W ho, when all disciplines their work have done, Develop only zeal for Number O n e; So much empressement in their own affairs, And apathy to other people’s cares; Taking no pains to show concern for you, Nor moved by anything that you can do.

Is this inherent in the very fate Which parts the cultured from the common state?

See, in Whitechapel’s glaring din and murk, How Toynbee Hall pursues its quiet work; Or, in our second London’s crowded waste, Fortune and culture leave their homes of taste T o spend their lives where darkness is most thick, And put their candle on a candlestick.

Ideal fancies which young dreamers dream W ho see Utopia in each new-fledged scheme!

Striving to graft some scion fresh and strong On the gnarled body of primeval wrong; Hoping such stock shall show renascent powers, And wondering at the falling of the flowers— Like the abortive bloom which comes to be Upon the branches of a broken tree.

Start new reforms with every new-born day, The eternal Hactenus still bars the way!

Y et better, in such deeds, the moments few Than ages with Philistia’s stolid crew.

Poorest is he of all his needy race W ho for an aspiration has no place!

Remove all false distinctions, and we find T w o groups there are, embracing all mankind: The men whose wants are by the present fed, And generous souls whose gaze is still ahead.

Hail to that Future which shall yet arise, Whose early dawn we wait with eager eyes!

A Freedom, truer, larger than to-day, More fully shared by all beneath its sway;

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High aims pursued with honest, earnest toil, A Culture broad, but native to our soil; The joys and blessings which this life affords Enjoyed by all, not held by feudal lords; In Art and Letters conquests new and vast, Fresher, because more studious of the past; In Manners, not untaught by modern days, But holding to old, simple virtuous ways; A Faith deep-rooted, honest, free and true, Watered and blessed by every friendly dew, Heir to all ages, yet enslaved to none, Grown strong in native air and native sun.

— T o that great Future, waiting to be made, This group, perhaps, shall lend no feeble aid.

Once in a ship I sailed towards Spanish shores Through summer seas beyond the fair Azores; And often, on some clear and radiant day, O ’er chains and foot-ropes took my careful way, While the fresh breezes made the top-masts bend, Past bowsprit, to the flying-jib-boom’s end.

Clasping a stay, upon that plunging spar I sat and gazed into the distance far.

No land in sight: of distant sails not one; The sapphire sea lay sparkling in the sun Unscored by wake or furrow, save some crest Which broke in foam upon its heaving breast.

The vessel, surging on with rhythmic sweep, Passed, one by one, the dwellers of the deep.

The “ man-of-war” there sailed his crystal craft W ith quaint, blue-tinted rigging fore-and-aft; And Venus’ girdles, strewn before the way, Like glass and coral, here in spirals lay; Medusae slow their trailing tresses drew, And yellow seaweed floated in the blue; O r of an ancient wreck some fragment vast, Crusted with barnacles, came idling past, And in its quiet shade a sudden swish Betrayed the lurking of some startled fish; Beneath the martingale, and not afraid, The darting, rainbow-tinted dolphin played; Above, like spirits in the gleaming sky, A few white, fleecy clouds were floating by.

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Nought else in view: in this still, lonely place One seemed by mere volition borne through space; No sign was there of any living soul Whose will must serve for guidance and control.

So seemed this silent summer dream, and yet O ’erhead a score of snowy sails were set; While far astern our hardy captain stood, Himself the owner of the ship he rode, A true descendant of the Viking Norse, Keeping his vessel steady on her course; The trembling card, yet firmly fixed as fate.

Pointed to far Gibraltar’s narrow strait; The very sun was halted in mid-day T o render up the secret of our way.

Brothers, how often in our life we seem T o vaguely drift, as in an idle dream; Y et in our hearts the conscious thrill of hope Forbids in doubt’s bewilderment to grope.

A port we seek; a chart-marked course we take; Borne onward by fixed winds our way we make; And there, to us unseen, the Pilot stands, And our life’s helm is safe in His strong hands.

Jam es T

aft

H a t f i e l d , Northwestern ’ 83

T H E C O N V E N T IO N P O E M , 1892 u s t w h y this event should be reckoned completer

7

With a solemn old bard to address you in metre,

And why he should read you a metrical lecture, This solemn old bard has no means of conjecture.

But since it so happens the good boys of Beta Are thirsting for verse and are wilting for metre, And are lonesome and lorn, as a man who is single, T ill their bachelor prose has been married to jingle, M y machine has ground out, with its old imperfections, A few sober and somnolent, solemn reflections.

As swift years go by, and life’s ripe apple mellows, Our memory reverts to young days with the fellows, When we, with the ladder supplied by the college, Tried to climb the top limb of the old tree of knowledge;

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When we dug, as the farmer will dig the potato, For the tuber of thought in the rich soil of Plato; When we strolled ’neath the sunrise, and each a glad roamer Through the dewy demesne of that morning bard, Homer.

Took one gill of Homer (and raised no loud clamor), Diluted with infinite gallons of grammar; And the thought will arise, and it’s often repeated, In that classical dram we were woefully cheated.

There were many deep bards and fine poets, they tell us, And sages revered, in that old land of Hellas.

But we felt not the spell of their deep necromancy, The charm of their wisdom, the fire of their fancy, For all we could do was to stand up and stammer Some formula phrases of pitiful grammar.

While we ate the peel of our syntax potato, W e missed all the soul and the genius of Plato; While we fed upon crusts, like a tramp and a roamer, W e missed the white bread in the pantries of Homer.

There were thinkers who lived by the sunlit Egean W ho soared through the blue of thought’s high empyrean; And we, like bold fledgelings, were eager to follow (For the white, mountain eagle is chased by the swallow), But we never could chase those aerial whizzers, For our wings were all clipped by grammatical scissors.

Then let every Beta each take his small hammer And smite, without pity, this monster of grammar; Let us get at the pith of the marrow of the ages; Let us get at the core of the soul of the sages; Let us find the world’s heart in its central pulsations; Let us search for the thought that has moulded the nations; Let us seek for the spirit, strong, vital and pure, That lives in the heart of all true literature; Let us seek men to teach us its grace and its glamour, And shun the prim, pitiful peddlers of grammar.

But in spite of the heavy, light-darkening blinders Swathed over our eyes by the dull gerund grinders; In spite of the roots of the higher mathematics, When we wished we were girls and could cry at quadratics— W e revert to those times when young hope swelled our bel­ lows, And our hearts beat with joy as we think of the fellows!

The fellows of Beta— our life seems completer

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When we think of those days and the fellows of Beta, And now, when we do anything that is clever, And deem that we stand on the heights of endeavor, W e feel that mankind should announce it and show it, And, foremost of all, let the Beta boys know it.

When we’re made selectman, or a highway surveyor, Are elected town clerk, or are mentioned for mayor; When we’ve published a pamphlet, or written a ditty, O r served for three years on the high school committee— Let the trumpets of fame o’er the wide planet blow it, But, foremost of all, let the Beta boys know it.

But when we are weak and our life seems a failure, And the world is a desert from here to Australia; When we’re sentenced to jail for some crime of foul nature, O r are members-elect of our State Legislature— Let the big world at large all derisively jeer of it, But for love of your life let no Beta boy hear of it!

Those were days when no fetters of fortune confined us, When we gazed on the infinite ocean behind us, And gazed on the mist-banner’d mountains before us, While hope o’er their summits triumphantly bore us.

Fate said: “ Rule the earth and dethrone the usurpers” ; And each of us answered: “ I ’m here for that purpose.”

Our consciousness told us the crazy old planet Was wobbly and wild, needing some one to man it; Some wise, ruling genius to guide it and veer it, Some strong pilot hand to direct it and steer it; Some imperial genius to keep the thing steady— And each of us answered: “ I ’m ready! I ’m ready! ” Thus, when we were loaded for bear or for bison, W e banged at the stars and shot at the horizon; So the bison and bear by our guns were ungingered, And the stars and horizon are thus far uninjured; And the high heavens are still by our bullets unblighted, And the rivers of earth still flow on unignited.

But, if we’ve not struck the high target we aimed at, ’T is nothing we need to regret and be ’shamed at.

Right here, to give zest to this metrical salad, And point a good moral, is given this ballad—

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A fact, and not a mere fanciful caper— And I know it is true, for I read it i’ the paper: Says the cabin boy to Dinah the cook, And a tear fell round and great, “ I won’t bear the yoke of every ol’ poke, A n ’ take off my cap to the mate.

For I ’ve a notion the Indian Ocean— ” And he stood up proud and free— “ Has no cabin boy that is better than O i— Let him take off his hat to me! ” “ Hoi’ on dar, chile,” says Dinah the cook, “ A n ’ lean yer yere to me, You ain’t no boss clar way ercross This yere hull big blame sea.

Hain’t yer seen it happ’n how the mate to the cap’n Takes off his hat? Go long!

Y ou’s awful brash, you young w ’ite trash, Jes’ larn ware you belong! ” “ Belay there, Dinah! ” says the boy to the cook, “ Don’t git ez hot ez a stove; Did you ever see it happ’n thet our ol’ cap’n Tips his hat to any cove ?” “ W ’y now you’re wrong,” says Dinah. “ Go long!

Jump overboard an’ swim, For he’d be a Jonah if he didn’t smoove de owner A n ’ tip his hat to him! ” “ Avast there, Dinah,” says the boy to the cook, “ Your sails is too much spread; The owner’s a stunner, a twenty-thousan’ tonner, A n ’ he keeps his hat on his head! ” “ Break off dar, chile! break off foh erwhile!

Here de merchant jines de swim, A n ’ dat’s wot’s de marter w ’en he wants his charter, Den de cap’n tips to him! ” “ But the merchant,” says the boy, “ is a god on wheels, A reg’lar tough ol’ duff! ” “ L aw s!” Dinah said, “ let me fill yo’ head W iv some kine er sense an’ stuff!

De merchant’s a seller, a trad’n’ feller.

A n ’ he wants to sell, yer see ?

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So he ben’ down flat, an’ he take off he hat, A n’ he bow to you an* me!a Haec fabula docet: this poor fable teaches W e’re all in one basket, the same kind of peaches; In the cabin, on deck, where our station may happen, T o some man, or some men, we are each of us cap’n.

And we sail the same sea to a port far before us, W ith the same pilot stars shining placidly o’er us; And meet the same waves, the same tempests’ resistance— And make for a harbor that’s far in the distance.

Sa m W

alter

Foss, Brown ’ 82

C O N V E N T IO N P O E M , 1893 the steeds whose heels have stirred the dust, This flighty Pegasus is tamed the least, And he who mounts upon the fractious beast Rideth, not where he would, but as he must.

F

all

And fairy Ariel, winging high in air, Swift as the arrowy lights that from the pole Flit southward, is far harder to control Than surly Caliban with logs to bear.

O f all the witching flirts that since the day O f Mother Eve have made our race accurst, The sweet, capricious Muses are the worst; And fatuous fools are we who own their sway.

Y et ’mid the quivering shadows of the groves, W ith shattered sunlight plashing on the floor, By fluting fountains, whisper, as of yore, The wise Camenae in their dim alcoves.

And he that loves them needs must seek them there: He may not draw them to the haunts of men; But by the ocean shore, in forest glen, And on the mountain top, they heed his prayer.

Thus have I sought them oft, and prayed them long; And by their aid— not without fear, I own—

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I hope to show a secret yet unknown, And sing to Wooglin no ungrateful song.

The gods, men say, are deadâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; Prophet and oracle forever hushed; A ll spells dissolved, all sweet enchantments crushed, All airy spirits fled.

The hour, they cry, is noonâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; Nothing is hid; the air is full of light; All mysteries are vapors of the night, Shadows beneath the moon.

Such mysteries I love: Better than day, to me, the starlit gloom Wherein they reign, and the dim shapes that loom Around me, and above.

Can naught be hid by light?

The very heavens are shrouded by its glare; The low is seen, while, infinitely fair, The stars are veiled from sight.

Deem not the gods are dead; There sounds an oracle in every heart; All nature rings with voices, to impart Glad tidings of its Head.

Despite our noonday sun The stars shine on, for aye the gods have power, And many a mystery shall outlast the hour When light on earth is done.

Mighty is Wooglin still: From three-score shrines his incense fills the land, And thousands in unwavering phalanx stand, Eager to work his will.

Lo! at his potent call W e gather in his temple, year by year, T o do him homage, and to share his cheer Throng to the banquet hall.

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E ’en as the Greeks of old Upreared an altar to a god unknown, So we, beside this lovely lake, enthrone The name I now unfold.

Few have divined the truth— Though oft the story hath been told in part, O f gray-beard Wooglin, in whose boyish heart Age is made one with youth.

T o win that mystic lore I ploughed the crested waves for many a day, And wandered far; and oft I went astray, But found at last the shore.

Not in Egeria’s cave Came any word of wisdom to my ear; Apollo’s fateful voice I might not hear— ’T is dumb in Delphi’s grave.

Then to a strand I came Older than history; no records tell O f its beginnings; and a shadowy spell Clings in its very name.

Egypt— the land of eld; The present there a mere intruder seems; A land of ruins, monuments and dreams— A land by spirits held.

Buried in drifting sand, Y et lifting high its scarred, majestic face, Rises a form as ancient as the race— Its desolation grand.

T o him whose heart is stirred The gods grant revelation: As I gazed M y sense was quickened, till at last, amazed, I listened, and I heard.

For there my soul awoke T o hear in spirit; from the voiceless stone There came an answer, but to me alone: ’Tw as Wooglin’s self that spoke.

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“ Long have I been revered: In shadow of these pyramids I dwelt For ages; millions in my worship knelt Ere Cheops’ pile was reared. “ And ere Columbus steered His quailing galleys through a chartless sea, The land he sought in hope was old to me; There, too, my name was feared. “ M y secret I reveal: Behold! I am the Spirit of the Past; M y realm is Memory; my reign shall last While there are hearts to feel. “ Y et as the Sphinx’s gaze Is ever set upon the rising sun, I find my joy in lives but just begun— Lover of boyhood’s days. “ And thus with blushing glow, As the bright gates of life’s fair morning ope, Upon my face flashes such light of hope As youth alone may know, “ Spirit of eve and morn— Not in the glare of day my power is felt, Nor yet in gloom of night; but where they melt, Out of the twilight born. “ And for a sign I chose The tint of morn on star-shot azure drawn; And for a flower, symbol of youth and dawn, I plucked an opening rose. “ W ith more than Egypt’s art I reared the Beta Temple, to endure: Far down I delved to reach foundations sure, Deep in the youthful heart. “ Through all its echoing halls Ring joyous voices of the by-gone years; And many a long-forgotten scene appears Bright on its painted walls.”

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Thus Wooglin spake, and ceased: Yet ere I turned, he plucked some threads of gray From off my brow, and gently smoothed away Such lines as care had creased.

Mighty is Wooglin still: Forgot by magic of the wand he bears, Gray locks and weary years and weighing cares Are lost in boyhood’s thrill.

And potent, still, his call.

Behold us, young and old, from far and near: South, North, and East and West find union here— Right welcome are they all.

Praise to our Wooglin sage!

Success his great Fraternity attend!

May Heaven to all its youth grant joy, and send Honor and peace to age!

C h a r l e s K e l se y G a in e s , St. Lawrence ’ 76

DAW N The Convention Poem, 1894 E w e a r y e a rth is bound in chains of sleep,

Deep darkness broods upon the heavy air, And silence reigns upon the wooded steep, And fills the grassy valleys everywhere.

No light to break the blackness of the night Save the eternal stars, whose trembling rays, Made dim by distance, feebly aid the sight Accustomed to the glow of sun-lit days.

Silence and darkness! Silence so profound It pains the ear intent to catch some sound; And darkness deep, so deep it wounds the eye Striving in vain to sever earth from sky.

Silence and darkness! O , for some faint cry O f prowling beast upon its stealthy quest, O r bird that sits, beneath the soundless sky, Uneasy on its rudely-woven nest!

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And O , for light that shall dispel the gloom That wraps the earth as with an inky pall, Though it make certain the uncertain doom, Though in confusion every hope shall fall!

Silence and darkness! List! Far in the wood A solitary bird awakes to sing, Whose feeble voice shall rouse the tuneful brood, Until the forest aisles with music ring.

And look! Against the gloom a streak of gray, Presage of banners soon to be unfurled, The rosy ushers of the dawning day— And lo! ’T is sunrise o’er one-half the world.

Like some lone watcher of the silent night, W ho strains his eyes to catch the faintest ray That heralds the approach of dawning light, That promises the coming of the day, When darkness shall be put to utter rout, And all its brood of black and slimy things, Unfit to brook the light, shall be cast out Beyond the power to harm with fangs or stings, The lover of his kind, in anxious quest, Peers through the darkness that enfolds the world, Searches from north to south, from east to west, For banners of the dawn to be unfurled— Long pennants streaming red athwart the sky And gleams of gold above the cresting wood, Aye, and the glorious sun to sweep on high, The symbol and the promise of all good— And finds, through all the vast expanse of air, The reign of ebon darkness everywhere.

For selfish greed fills all our marts of trade, The strong e’er crowd the weakest to the wall, Success is honored, howsoever made, And “ might makes right” is blazoned over all.

Crime lacks no advocate, if it but come W ith fat fee held within its outstretched hand; The Midas-touch can render justice dumb, Release its eyes from the impartial band, Accurst wights place upon the even scale, And make the wrong side o’er the right prevail.

Even within the church sin finds fat soil, And grows luxuriantly strong and fast,

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And yet no moral whirlwind makes turmoil, The lightnings of Mount Sinai do not blast.

Smooth things are prophesied by lying lips From pulpits of all creeds throughout the land, Instead of using scorpions as whips T o lash dire evils with unsparing hand.

Baptized with fire and blood the state arose, T o freedom dedicated by the free, Secured by manly virtue from all foes, T he home of heaven-endowed equality.

W herever floats the flag o’er land or sea, W e have no need to pray for war to cease; No foreign foe can bid us bend the knee And as a humble suppliant sue for peace.

O ur foes are not without, but all within; More subtle and more dangerous than those W ho come with roll of drum and trumpet’s din, W ith brave array our forces to oppose.

T h e ballot in an unbribed freeman’s hand Is far more potent to preserve the state T han serried bayonets bristling o’er the land, T h an all the hell-born engin’ry of hate.

But, this, the freeman’s sacred heritage, Is bought and sold like any m erchan d ise; T h e patriot m ay im potently rage, T h e sale goes calm ly on before his eyes.

A n d thus it haps on freedom ’s holy soil T h a t gold , not brains, is sought to legislate, A n d m en their brothers’ blood-bought rights despoil T h a t m illionaires m ay represent the state.

G re a t w ealth is not a curse but a great trust, T o be adm inistered for public g o o d ; T o m aster, not to serve the ends of lust, T o build and not destroy m an ’s broth erh ood ; T o lift the fallen , help the poor and w ea k , E n la r g e the vision o f the d arkened m in d , T o sick and su ffe rin g blest co m fo rt speak, B e feet to lam e, and eyes u n to the blin d .

B u t those w h o , in th eir lust fo r office h igh , U se m o n ey to d efeat the people’s w ill, D e b a u ch the public m orals and d efy T h e la w s o f G o d and m an , w o r k o n ly ill.

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Themselves the prey of low, designing knaves, W ho fatten on their weak and foolish pride, W ho call them masters, but who know them slaves, W ho yield that they their wills may override, Who seek not them but theirs, that they may share The wealth which solely qualifies for place The poor deluded ones, who bravely wear The look of Jove upon their foolish face.

But this wealth lost, and then will disappear Those noble qualities of mind and heart Which made their owners to the public dear— In the choice phrases of the fawner’s art— And they who wheedled them unto the full W ill leave, as rats desert a sinking ship, T o seek some other well-filled purse to pull By willing service of the facile lip.

Such millionaires, by grace of party boss, W ho sells them right to be accounted great, Although it be at heavy public loss, Too frequently misrepresent the state.

Though they know not the people’s urgent need, And care for little as they understand, T hey reap the harvest from the golden seed W ith which they had so freely sown the land.

They reap the harvest, but the duties high They cast with rude contempt beneath tseir feet.

Should not they, then, enjoy that which they buy?

Did not they richly pay for pleasures fleet!

W hy should they toil and moil, with fret and pain, Striving to serve the ends of common weal!

Such labor ill befits the fatty brain, And for the common herd they do not feel.

T he fair nymph Echo loved a faithless swain, And spent in wasting grief her virgin years, T ill naught of all she was but voice remained, A ll else dissolved in unpent flood of tears.

So ancient fable tells, but some mistake Is evident, for she has left behind A progeny to cause our ears to ache W ith words as empty as the idle wind.

Vacuous torrents, floods of emptiness, Pour through the nation’s legislative halls,

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While men and women mourn in dire distress, And hunger’s famished cry unheeded falls; For, drunken with the folly of their noise, They babble on— far better were they dumb— Unconscious that their ceaseless talk destroys The cherished hopes of better times to come.

And while each chatters like ancestral ape, And lends the proofs that Darwin sought in vain O f man’s descent from some arboreal shape, The missing link in that reft human chain, The unfed multitudes grow desperate, And patient reason abdicates its throne, And blinding passion kindles fires of hate, And folly claims the masses for her own.

Hence ill-timed strikes and boycotts ill-advised; Hence marching armies of the unemployed, A socialistic movement scarce disguised, A force that may destroy, if not destroyed.

For underneath the snow-white flag of peace There shows the mailed hand prepared to strike; A moment may wild passions give release, And flag-staff be exchanged for sword and pike; A moment, and the ground may taste the blood That flows from brothers’ wounds by brothers made— A ghastly, lethal, fratricidal flood, That vainly cries aloud to heaven for aid.

This is the darkest hour before the dawn, When evil riots in its slumbers reign.

When, like whipped dogs, men humbly cringe and fawn, And lick the master’s hand that smites with pain.

But light appears. Not all have bowed the knee T o Mammon, and have worshipped at his shrine; There still are men who know that they are free; Whose senses are not drugged with poisoned wine; Whose clear eyes see the evil and the good; Whose unseared consciences discern the right; Whose honest hearts feel sense of brotherhood; Whose unbound wills keep them from moral blight; Whose manly voices cry, like him of old Besides old Jordan’s wild and stormy flood, A fiery message to the dull and cold, T o stir the sluggish currents of their blood.

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They call for help to wage unequal fight Between the hosts of wrong and ranks of right; “ God give us men! These brutish times demand Clear-eyed, strong-brained, firm-willed, large-hearted men, T o grapple with the ills that curse the land, T o wage the fight with act and voice and pen; Men who, defeated, boldly dare renew The contest till, through heat and dust, they see The evil routed, and the good and true Crowned with the laurels of glad victory.”

And O , to you, my brothers, comes this call; You are the chosen ones of our dear God. On you the burdens of this contest fall, And you must bear the sword and wield the rod, Until the evil things of darkness flee; Until the passing of the gloomy night; Until the signals of the dawn you see; Until the coming of the joyous light, When wrong shall fail and crime shall ever cease, And righteousness shall reign in blessed peace.

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

F R A T E R N IT Y The Convention Poem, i 8(K r-> h e ro ad that winds among the rocks, and lifts The toiler up to heights where all the gifts, Most manifold, of nature, are enhanced, And vistas open to the mind entranced W ith hopes half realized, is rough and steep.

T he level paths are easier to keep.

There are no bruised feet upon the plain— No sighs for hopes that proved to be in vain— No eyes that ache and yet refuse to weep, Aweary grown with looking up the steep Ascent for that which, failing of a name, Men call, for lack of better reason, fame.

No balm has yet been found for such as feel No bruise. That rest alone is sweet and real

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When Labor first prepares the couch, and makes Immediate, magic cure of all our aches.

Whatever cause may underlie, ’tis true That fame has been monopolized by few, While millions failed, or else did not aspire.

The tide of fortune lifts few from the mire.

Who beside Caesar passed the Rubicon ?

A t Waterloo, who stood with Wellington?

W ho with Napoleon braved the Russian Bear?

With Washington who crossed the Delaware?

Y et there were those who well deserved the meed Awarded to the one. Their country’s need Became their own, and they as freely gave O f their heart’s blood— nor deigned one drop to save,— As he on whom the laurel wreath was laid.

One name shines through the years, while others fade.

Yet fame is ever circumscribed by fears, Success breeds cares, and vict’ry hath its tears.

The happiest homes are not in palace halls, Nor hearts found truest where the ermine falls.

In truth to climb Aornus were an end Most meet, if on the heights were found a friend, Whose trustful soul against your own would grow, Too close to be cast off at any blow Aimed by the tongue of envy or of hate.

They scarce deserve the name of friends who wait On fortune, when the brook grows shallow— fools— Casting about their lines for deeper pools.

These last comprise the most of humankind, And even fame is not so hard to find As the pure love from friendship’s sacred mine, Which, freed from dross, becomes almost divine.

Not hoarded treasure, gained by years of toil, The finer senses being dulled meanwhile; Not high position, with its motley horde O f clinging sycophants, whose every word Belies the real desire for pelf and place; Not the brief honor of the winning race For fame, where false ambition sets the pace; Not one nor all combined can fill the space O f individual life, from dawn till dark, W ith full content. Whene’re there lacks the spark Within the breast, which makes of all mankind

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A brotherhood, as w ell attempt to find A pearl or diamond in the serpent’s nest, A s rare content or perfect peace and rest W here nought but sordid avarice abides, A nd greed has scorched the soul it all but hides.

L et that fair word, Fraternity, sink deep W ithin your hearts and lives, for round it sweep A t ever varying range, half of the light And sunshine of this life. It brings no blight, But bloom instead. It brings a healing balm T o minds diseased. It finds a haven calm For storm tossed souls w hich else m ig h t have been lost.

I t tells the truth, w hatever prove the cost.

F ratern ity— thou child of college halls, A lthough not circumscribed by any walls — T o thee we pledge the cup, and faith ren ew .

T o joys you add in measure more than due, A n d to the sorrows, bid us kiss the rod, Seeing in them fraternity with G o d .

D o n a ld D . D o n n a n ,

TH E LEG EN D OF W O O G L IN The

C o n v en tio n P o em . 18 0 6

h e n e w - b o r n tw ilight on a world a t re s t ^ S in k s s o ft ly as a child a t N a t u r e ’^ breast.

T h e b u r n in g em b ers o f the day grow dark, T h e e v e n in g s ta r gleams faint, a fallen spark.

D a r k -s h a d o w e d in the fading evening light, A classic g r o v e , majestic in the might W h ic h N a tu r e on her master-works bestows, Com m ands the suppliant earth in calm repose. . E n gu lfed in shadows yneath the towering tops, A band of humans, loitering idly, stops.

Reclining on the soft green sward they lie; I

Each one his fellow creature would outvie In toasting friendship and its kinsman, love, A n d Eros, greatest of the Gods above.

Fraternity the theme which chains their minds.

In it each one life’s inspiration finds.

A s in such intercourse their thoughts free move, A n aged stranger in the shadowed grove,

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Iowa y85

Wandering from the scenes of daily strife, O ’erlooks this cutting of the knots of life.

T he innocence and spirit sweet of youth Hold and charm the searcher after truth.

He listens long, then makes his presence known, And tells them of the life he lives alone, Forgetting all the world, by men forgot, A hermit sage: this was his chosen lot.

Sad words fell from the sage’s trembling lips: “ Your sun is rising, mine nears its eclipse; Y et, brothers, long and weary years ago, W hen youth was mine, and manhood’s flow W as yet a rising tide, not ebbing from life’s shore, For fellow men such friendship did I store As I have heard expressed by you in truth.

B u t crushed w ere all these castled dreams of youth B a ck to its author w as m y friendship sent-, F ruitless the lo n gin g, vain the love I spent.

Shattered w ere hopes. T h e eatin g cares of life R epelled m y soul. I fled far fro m the strife A n d stru ggle, escaped the storm and stress O f daily battlin g, and in G o d ’s w ilderness H ave set m yself to search for lost ideals.

B u t here, this truth of love you r life reveals.

I f I m ig h t share this love I sought in vain , M y life , lo n g lost, w o u ld be restored again .

F ro m o ff the desert sea w h ereo n I ’ ve sailed A port I ’ll seek; m y lo n ely vo yage fa ile d .

H ope, an ch o r o f the soul, w ill hold m y bark I n lo v e ’s calm h aven ’ till I last em bark F o r h eaven ’s fa r shore upon the endless sea W h ic h flow s fro m tim e u n to e te rn ity .”

T h e sage had ceased. Each brother’s hand Extends the greeting of their loyal band.

He bids them welcome to his hermit home.

Here might they gather in the days to come, And in his wisdom find a guidance sure.

W ith him they builded on truth’s base secure A temple fair: Fraternal love its corner-stone.

A t either corner rested each alone, Charity, greatest of the heavenly three; Culture of mind scarce lesser in degree; A nd last of these, implicit faith in God,

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A token that the path in which they trod Mounts upward, spiral in its daily round.

Within the temple’s lofty walls was found Enthroned the thought that joy is real Only when risen from another’s weal.

Without the portals of the templed shrine, Three valiant white-crossed knights combine Their efforts to repel the lurking foe Whose joys is tears, whose love is human woe.

The graces three find home within the gates, Defying in their strength the evil fates.

Down through the central ether three stars bright Illumine all with their effulgent light.

W ith water’s sparkling gems a fountain plays; Symbols of purity, gleam white its pearly rays.

Grace, wisdom, truth and e’en philosophy As servants all attend Fraternity.

Herein the chosen brothers’ band did dwell.

The sage’s counsel wise their lives impel T o loftier thought and nobler effort gain, That each might higher pinnacles attain.

A ll by truth’s great deep, unknown sea explore And pick up pebbles from its beaten shore.

One lesson taught he them whene’er he spoke— Fraternity an armor is, and not a cloak.

Nor would he have them as mere thinkers bide; Thoughts are but dreams ’til their effects be tried.

Thus learning, working, helping each the other, They found at last the meaning full of “ brother.

Around that magic name they brought in bond O f filial strength those spirits who, beyond Material things, sought in the higher life T o raise their souls above the smut of strife.

Disciples of new faith, the world their field, An influence vast their potent ideas wield.

Chosen bands equipped march forth to wars, Their only weapon love, their guides the stars.

W ith rythmic step in close, unserried rank.

Fraternity’s great army marches on. The clank O f steel, the pitiless pomp of war are gone, E ’en though the struggle of the year is on.

W ith hearts and brains this battle’s fought, And he is best equipped who most has sought

For strength and faith to answer each command O f him who holds the nations in his hand.

And thus in college halls the lesson’s learned By which the world’s great victory must be earned.

The slogan of the fight is brotherhood.

Its power must bring the triumph of the good.

Rough winds may shake the darling buds of May, Yet may they live on even to decay, If, faithful to the root which gave them birth, They profit by the bounties of the earth.

They spread their giant limbs, the skies no bar, Like spirit steps to heavenly lands afar.

Seeds of true love, if sown within the heart, May foster embryos which in turn impart A sturdier growth until the plant is born Which in its beauty shall all life adorn.

For of the soul the body form must take, For soul is form, and does the body make.

In mind and man, then, must there be increase, Until on perfect lines the growth shall cease.

W ith truth its strength, in grandeur, love sublime, Shall tower o’er the storms and wrecks of time.

F r a n c i s H i n c k l e y Sisson, Knox ’ 92

T H E C O N V E N T IO N P O E M , 1897 say I shall not dream?

W ho will say the things that seem Are not the things that are? I dare T o dream, and dare to call the fair Dream all a truth. The hearts of you I sing to, hold the vision true. ho w ill

When thirteen moons their wondrous web Have woven ’round the star we tread, When summer drives her panting steed Through city ways, o’er country mead, When men are weary with the fret That follows life to labor set,—

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A soft white star inclineth down, W ith beams of peace that smooth man’s frown; A full white star (and some know whence) Low-trembling nears our world of sense;— O ’er some sweet place, by hill or sea, A season rests in purity.

And, as of old, devoted feet W ith eager tread come stepping fleet. “ The star! the star! ” I hear men cry.

From east and west they hurry by, From north and south,— from leagues afar They come to kneel beneath the star.

Beneath the star, on sward of green, Are lofty palms whose plumes give sheen As breezes wave them in the light That hangs above them day and night.

O star and palms— green palms, white star!

A mystery unto men you are.

And, sentinels that guard your shade, Y e palms in circle close arrayed, There stands, with blade and shield and crest, And mystic symbol on each breast, White-armored, three, whose subtle ear The cabalistic word must hear.

The magic word upon their lip, Within the palmy circle slip The weary, eager men from far W ho come to kneel beneath the star— W ho come to feel again the spell First wrought in old Miami’s dell.

Dark, like a cloud, a velvet wall Within the palms is risen tall; No curious eye can sift it through, No furtive ear its charm undo; By radiance of the soft white star Its pleasant courts illumined are.

And from its eight high towers rise Eight staffs that taper toward the skies; While from their peaks the world may see

358

In splendor, yet in modesty, The silken flaunt of pink and blue Flash at the star that richens their hue.

Within the wall— we will not pass, But to the roses on the grass That fill the ambient air with dreams For sense, from out the shadow streams A melody, whose words I miss, But in my soul it seemeth this: “ Help thy brother when he fall, Guard him in his weakness all; Trust him for his better end, Use him as thine equal friend; Hold by right till understood;— Peace and strength in brotherhood! ” And then, with faces all anew— Not flushed with wine, but Heaven’s own dew, Out from the wall and the palms and the three, Like men new-souled, new-bodied, see The weary who went in to vow Come worldward, blessing-handed now.

And shall not we, whose natures thrill Within the courts that star’s beams fill, W e, who know all love’s helpfulness, W ho share the sympathies that bless, Who, hand in hand in magic span, Give strength and gain it, man to man,— Shall we not, knowing truth and grace, W alk forth a brother to our race?

Shall we not in the days to be, Stretch hearts and arms more wide, more free, Embracing all the world for good In one substantial brotherhood?

Then, leap, dear hearts, that feel the bond, The spell, the thrill, renewed, of fond Old days ’neath classic rule; aye, leap!

Be glad, this hour while memories keep!

And, homeward bending, bear with you The fire of the star that makes you new.

L a fa y e t t e R u p e r t H a m b e r lin ,

359

Richmond ’ 92

Miscellaneous Beta Poems ☆

☆

☆

T H E M ARCH O F T H E T E N TH O U SAN D I h o u g h tw e n ty centuries have sped, And marching armies come and gone, Earth echoes yet beneath your tread, O hero host of Xenophon!

Mighty T en Thousand! Unafraid, Though Persian millions swarm in front, And winning still, though thrice betrayed, The Euxine and the Hellespont.

So Asia fell; for in your track The Macedonian conquerer went, Taught by that matchless first attack T o pierce and span a continent.

Lo! such another host I see, That such another empire seeks.

Its moving skirmish-line are we:— Behind us march ten thousand Greeks.

Far inland, where our rivers strike Their spreading course toward either sun, And Oxford lies, Cunaxa-like, Hard by another Babylon, That march began: one slender line W ent East, another West, to bear T o distant coasts their sacred sign, And plant their Grecian standard there.

And as they marched, both columns grew, Though both left colonies behind Whose temple-fires, the wide land through, Flashed signals, each unto its kind.

Then, East and West, two hosts pour out On two far strands in rivalry.

Boston and Berkeley hear the shout Trapezus heard: “ The sea! the sea!”

The march goes on: down either coast, On that track now, and now on this.

T w o wings of one united host Complete their long Anabasis.

The mainland’s ours: what sea-girt isles Now beckon us to their demesnes?

Lo! Where a new Ionia smiles! — The Antilles and the Philippines!

Happy ten thousand! Just ahead Y e view the goal your stout hearts seek: Rock-built and wave-encompassed, The world-dominion of the Greek!

Ohio Wesleyan ’ 79 (written when Beta Theta Pi reached 10,000 members)

W i l l i s O scar R o b b ,

A F IT C H IA N IS M s1

going to chemistry three Along came the devil and he says to me “ The Phi Delts aren’t as bad as they seem; They’ll make you captain of the fencing team.” w as

No, devil, no, you can’t buy me; I ’m as happy as I can be.

Diamond bright and stars so high, I ’ll be a Beta till I die.

As I was boning to beat the band, Along comes the devil and he takes my hand: “ Oh, you won’t have to work, and you won’t have to cram, If you just shake Beta and join Phi Gam.” No, devil, no, you can’t buy me; I ’m as happy as I can be.

Diamond bright and stars so high, I ’ll be a Beta till I die.

As I was cutting an eight o’clock class, Along came the devil, bold as brass.

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“ If you want to make a million, old man, just speak; It’s surely worth the money, if you live with Teke.”

No, devil, no, you can’t buy me; I ’m as happy as I can be.

Diamond bright and stars so high, I ’ll be a Beta till I die.

G e o r g e F i t c h , Knox ’ 97

THE “LO ST” Reflections of a fraternity catalogue editor W

h e r e ’ s Jim?” “ He’s lost. W e haven’t heard from him For fifteen years. Jim never thought Much of the hidden things; He never caught The vision; never saw the stars.

He never sensed the joy that friendship brings.

A ll that Jim sought Was what there was for him.

T hat’s why the emblems on his badge grew dim.

Jim’s lost. No one has heard from him For fifteen years.’

“ Where’s Jud?” “ He’s lost. You know, he proved a ‘dud.’

His weaknesses he never tried to cure.

W e certainly were fooled in him.

He made a fine impression; all felt sure W e had a winner when we put The badge on Jud. But he stopped right there; never seemed to care For campus contests, honors, anything That might distinction to the chapter bring.

He’s lost. No one has heard of him For fifteen years.” “ Where’s Joe?” “ He’s lost. He still owes for his board.

Like all the rest who left while in arrears He can’t be found; He never answers letters; never comes around.

3 62

Ashamed, no doubt.

For he could well afford T o pay in full in college days.

Upon the chapter roll he’s just a name, His unpaid bill remains the same.

Joe’s lost. No one has heard of him For fifteen years.” “ Where’s Josh?” “ He’s lost. W ith him ’twas booze.

He never could refuse, and so Could never hold a place.

W e cannot find the slightest trace O f him. Poor Josh! Good fellow he, Seemed proud of his fraternity.

But he would not study, never worked.

Allotted tasks he always shirked In college as in later life.

Josh’s lost. No one has heard of him For fifteen years.”

F r a n c is

W . S h e p a r d s o n , Denison ’ 82

B E T A T W IN S about— ’twas very queer, W e started life the selfsame year; And queerer, stranger yet to say, The selfsame month, the selfsame day. cam e

1

And when in classic shades we sought T o gain the lore by labor bought, No sooner had we honors won Than Wooglin made us each his son.

When now our college days were passed And we upon the world were cast, Fate still, to make the balance true, Gave both the selfsame work to do.

And now we ask with proud disdain, Where are the two can match us twain ?

3 63

Ho! East, or West, or South, or North, I f there are such, let them stand forth!

W e shy our hats into the ring!

W e dare the World our equals bring!

It can’t be done— our record wins!

W e are the only Beta twins.”

Kenyon ’ 80 T a y l o r , Virginia Military ’ 72

G rove D a n i e l C ur tis, G eorge W ash in g to n

T O G U Y E A R L , California ’83

Wi

fill a bright cup with the sunlight that gushed When the dead Summer’s jewels were trampled and crushed, And drink to Guy Earl, we all hold him dear, Love bless him, joy crown him, God speed his career. e ’l l

W illia m A dam M a g ee,

California ’87

IN T H E B E T A S O R T O ’ W A Y Brother’s spirit’s weary; and he’s feeling pretty blue, The sky seems dark and dreary; and won’t let the sunshine through, It’s a great thing fellow Betas, for a Brother just to lay His hand upon your shoulder, in the Beta Sort O ’ W ay.

W

hen

A

It makes you stop and think; it makes the tears to start, You feel a sort o’ flutter, in the region of your heart.

You just look straight in his eye, for you don’t know what to say, When hand grips into hand, in the Beta Sort O ’ W ay.

Our Beta’s a curious compound, of honey and of gall, O f cares and bitter crosses, and yet the best crowd of all.

And Old Wooglin must be good and kind, least ways that’s what I say, When eye looks into eye, in the Beta Sort O ’ W ay.

W e n t w o r t h C ory Ja c q u i n ,

(W ith acknowledgments)

364

Illinois ’ 18

A N A L U M N I G R E E T IN G the corner I have a friend In this great city that has no end.

Yet days go by and weeks rush on And, before I know it, a year is gone.

And I never see my old chum’s face, For life is a swift and terrible race.

He knows that I like him just as well As in the days when we gave the ‘yell’ For Pater Knox. W e were younger then, But now we are busy, tired men: Tired of playing the foolish game: Tired of trying to make a name.

‘Tomorrow,’ I say, ‘I will call on Jim Just to show that I ’m thinking of him.’

But tomorrow comes, and tomorrow goes, And the distance between us grows and grows. round

“ Around the corner— yet miles away, ‘Here’s a telegram, Sir’ . . .

‘Jim died today’ That’s what we get— and deserve— in the end Around the corner— a vanished friend “ So now, my brother, I plead with you Not to let this of you be true.

There’s an old time dorg, next Saturday eve So drop all your business worries and leave All care at home. Just come along And join with us in the Beta song.

Tomorrow comes— and tomorrow will fly So we send this call in ‘phi-kai-phi.’ ” C o l u m b u s , O h io , A l u m n i

(W ith acknowledgments) IS T H A T SO! men are hibernators, Some hide within their shell, Some cling to old associates, Because they know them well. ome

Some slip into a business rut And ne’er a new friend make, They tread a beaten path each day From habit, hard to break.

But as for me, I get a kick From seeing faces new And meeting men whom I enjoy, In hearing what they do.

I meet new fellows day by day And like them one and all Perhaps I look for good in men And wink at faults so small.

I ’ve never met a Beta yet I couldn’t tolerate; I took the oath in nineteen-two And still think Betas rate.

I ’ve never joined another thing Except a church, do tell, W ith these two things to guide me, Boys, I ’ll miss the gates of hell.

And when I join the happy throng Within the Golden Gate I ’ll hunt up Father Wooglin For my first luncheon date.

W e’ll gather all the Betas, Have a chapter in the sky And a chorus gaily chanting “ Songs of Beta Theta Pi.” W a l t e r M a l l o y , Ohio State ’o6

B E T A H O M E C O M IN G — rothers of the Beta Clan!

E — ager Sons of Wooglin— T — ime has come to plot and plan; A — nnouncement is contained herein.

H— omecoming, a magic word to any “ GradO — f college days returned, of victories glad,M — emories!— this year on November nine E — very “ T iger” who will “ fall in line” 366

C — ares only to throw old Utah on the sod.

0 — our Cutler bell we hope will ring to heaven M — en of Beta thence to seven twenty-seven— 1— n gladsome anticipation of drink and meat, N — ot omitting of “ brother new to greet.”

G— lad to once a Beta be, always a Beta.

F— or wherewithal to meet a bill of fare. . . .

E— ach “ Alum” or “ little Lunnon” E— ntertains an “ active” as his share D — onates a buck and a half, for steak and onion!

E dw ard G a sk in T h o m a s,

Colorado College ’ 24

COLUM BUS LU NCH EON C A LL listen, dear brother, don’t turn a deaf ear; I ’ve a nifty announcement I want you to hear ’Bout a good place to eat, if you still have the habit, W ith service de luxe, ’stead of stand-up-and-grab-it.

W e’re leaving the Deshler to battle with fate And trying a club which I ’m told is first rate; Where Malcolm McGuckin of Maramor fame W ill fill up the nose-bags and serve us the same.

The regular luncheon is six-bits per man, But if you prefer to eat catch-as-catch-can, You may order light luncheons, or switzer on rye And pay a la carte for your salad or pie.

In a swell private room all the Betas will dine.

Come on men, let’s try it, the promise sounds fine.

You don’t tip the waitress nor buy back your hat; The club wants our business, so fellows, that’s that.

^l e a s e

W alter M alloy,

Ohio State ’06

the letters in B -E -T -A — and you get b -E -A -T Juggle the letters in T -H -E -T -A — and you get t-h-E -A -T And that’s what we’re going to do: E A T . uggle

7

'

A

367

nonymous

A N I N T E R F R A T E R N I T Y E PISO D E a Psi U junior, calling on a Beta girl, L And waited in the parlor while she fixed the final curl.

Said he, to little Alice, who was entertaining him: “ I wonder if your sister wouldn’t wear my Psi U pin?”

The little lady answered, with a brightly flashing eye: “ ’Deed she won’t, ’cause my big sister is a Baked Potato Pie.”

/ E

w as

C l y d e B o w m a n F urst,

Dickinson *93

IN D IA N A P O L IS A L U M N I A P P E A L HEY

/

FELLAS

be a hard winter— Prospects is bad fer everything ’cept the good time yer gonna have at the

t ’s g o n n a

BETA

S H IN D IG

which the Indianapolis Bunch is puttin’ on up in the top floor of the Severin on TH A N K SCm ^

EVE

Don’t bother about yer biled shirt.

If it’s in the laundry just rig yourself up comfortable-like an’ feel grand all evenin’ Wear galluses if you want to and take off yer shoes if yer feet hurt. (The place is well ventilated.) Be there at H ALF

AFTER

S IX

an’ get set fer all the vittels you can eat (and what you can’t eat you can rub in yer hair) and then push yer chairs back and square away for TH E

B IG A F T E R -S H O W

that’s gonna be a humdinger. When you see the kind of stuff the actives

368

an* that Indianapolis crowd put on you’ll be rarin’ fer more a n

’

d o n

’t

f e r g e t

to let Bill Todd up at 431 Merchants Bank Building, know that you’re cornin’.

Just send Bill TW O

BUCKS

along with the good word. O f course if you have paid yer dues why just ferget the two bucks part of it— but fer Gosh sake SEN D

TH E

W ORD

Yours more than ever fer ahelluvagoodtime in blankyblank The Indianapolis Bunch Banquet $2.00 Alumni Dues $1.50 $3.50 well spent O U R G U ESTS the Court of Judges nine, Whose fame no blot has known ; Though five may be outside the line These four are all our own— u p r e m e

Old Wooglin’s ever royal band Finds glory naught can jar In Harlan, Vande Vanter, and In Lurton and Lamar.

So robes of ermine are Approved by bench and bar For Harlan, Vande Vanter, and For Lurton and Lamar.

They’ll carve the canine, on demand, Though gentle in their air;

369

Their knife, throughout this blooming land A ll W rong is sure to scare, No fear, no favor, lots of sand, And logic over par, Have Harlan, Vande Vanter, and Both Lurton and Lamar.

So robes of ermine are Approved by bench and bar For Harlan, Vande Vanter, and For Lurton and Lamar.

A

uthor

U

nknown

Sung at dinner to United States Supreme Court Justices in New York 1911 to the tune “ The Last Cigar”

A T A C H IC A G O B A N Q U E T OH,

W

YOU

H ELLAS!

the tribe of Wooglin; Greece was young when we moved in.

Oh, you Hellas!

Surely made for us!

Some other frats may have some class, But there’s our sign: “ Keep off the Grass!”

Oh, you Hellas!

Claim staked out by us!

And that’s the reason why No other need apply, But Theta Theta Pi. E

a r e

W ho says that was a healthy scrap, When Betas put Greece on the map?

Oh, you Hellas!

All home-runs for us!

Since Wooglin’s rule now holds full sway, The Highest Court will rise and say: “ Oh, you Hellas!

Come, bring on your fuss, W e’re not the least hit shy For this old court stands high W ith Beta Theta Pi.”

370

T H E H E L L IA N ’ s H IGH EST CO U R T

Make way for the Hellian’s Highest Court!

Make way for The Court of Last Resort!

Let us greet them with a cheer, Let us fill them up with con-sti-tu-tion-al-i-ties.

Hurrah! for The Court of Legal Lore, They are flirting with Wooglin more and more.

In the sweet bye and bye. “ Are you Beta Theta Pi? That’s enough. You are on. Four M ore!”

T

he

B een G r e e k P layers

(Chicago 1 9 1 1 ) T H E A L U M N I’S R E T U R N o w one

in office high does shine,

O f millions he’s possessor; Another has the law down fine; Here’s, Heavens! a professor!

While one the sinful soul does blame, His brother heals its broken frame, O jerum, jerum, jerum, O quae mutatio rerum! ” A l b e r t B e r n h a r d t F a u s t , Johns Hopkins ’8 9

O U R B E T A ST A R S |f

them

w e ’ve happy m em ories,

While lasting friendship beams, And Beta songs and Beta grips T o hold our love and our dreams.

O f the dawn of a day in the future When shadows shall pass away, And light on the upland meadows W ill shine on a perfect day.

For we’ll meet again our comrades Far away from earthly strife

371

In the land of our hearts’ desire And the joys of eternal life. *

*

*

Their precious loving memory Shall never pass but ever be The sign and symbol true and high T o us in Beta Theta Pi. O f that devotion ere their fall Which prompted them to give their all That liberty should always light The earthly path of truth and right.

For sacrifice so pure and fine The Beta stars will brighter shine In honor of their memory Until the end of time shall be.

W

il l ia m

A dam M

agee,

California ’ 87

B U IL D IN G F O R B E T A for Beta! Help me plan T o be of use to my fellow man. u i l d in g

Building for Beta! Give me power T o do my part in my crowded hour.

Building for Beta! Give me skill As a workman fine my place to fill.

Building for Beta! Set me square In my destined place in the structure fair.

Building for Beta! In all I do T o high ideals keep me true.

Building for Beta! May no bars Shut from my view the golden stars.

Building for Beta! You and I, Building up Beta Theta Pi. F r a n c i s W a y l a n d S h e p a r d s o n , Denison ’ 82 372

D W I G H T M O R R O W ’S D O G the year when Kidlets Morrow Undertook to run a dog show, Having brought a brainless puppy From the wilds of Allegheny.

Soon the college all knew Morrow, Soon the dog’s life grew most wretched; And one day— a Sabbath morning,— When in church we’d all assembled Listening in rapt attention T o the words of Dr. Tuttle, Great the howl we heard forthcoming, Shaking all the walls and rafters, As when Fairbanks speaks in wisdom Tones full deep, with little meaning.

This the climax, this the ending; And the dog has long since left us, Going back to Allegheny Where such things do live and prosper.

h is

C a l v in C o o l id g e , Phi Gamma Delta

B E T A FRAGM EN TS raise high the glass, in its crystal drop clear.

Hedge love to mankind from a soul that’s sincere; Then here’s to all Betas with hearts staunch and true, And here’s to their mascot, the Pink and the Blue. en

M a r t h a A . B o u g h t o n , Michigan

The dolphin is king of the watery deep And his symbol we bear with a w ill; W e give of our best to maintain at the crest His place on this college hill.

K enneth W

h it n e y

R ogers , Syracuse117

W e learned by going West we reach the East.

What we call sunset here, is sunrise there.

373

And so we face life’s sunset glow in faith, Believing sunrise tops the western rim.

W

il l ia m

B e r n a r d N o r t o n , Northwestern ’ 80

In Alpha Chi we have a cry: “ That we must be on top! ” In all that goes the ’varsity knows That Betas are the prop.

A

lbert

B e r n h a r d t F a u s t , Johns H of kins ’ 89

W O O G L IN , T H E B E T A ’S H Q M E I on the earth’s fair crown,

By Chautauqua resting, Far up from the din of the town, The wild turmoil breasting,— Lies Wooglin, the Beta’s home, The summer’s peaceful nesting, And her portals welcome all, Welcome all— welcome all, And her portals welcome all, Welcome all!

ar u p

f

II Love reigns as our law supreme,— ’T is the Beta’s greeting; Love flows like a crowning stream, A ll the lilies meeting; And Wooglin, the Beta’s home, Feels that love-pulse beating, For that love is pledged to all; Pledged to all— pledged to all, For that love is pledged to all; Pledged to all!

L a f a y e t t e R u p e r t H a m b e r l i n , Richmond ’ 92

374

CHAW — T A W — QU AW Or, The Early Hour at Wooglin of Wooglin caw in the early morning air, And they hold a consultation in the tree-tops on the beach Concerning all the people in the Hall— Wooglin Hall; Over tower of which and sleeping inmates floats a pennon fair.

And they ask, “ What does it mean, this name of King or Queen, O r deity of Saxon or of Dane? Is it Christian or pro­ fane ?”

Calling: Chaw chaw chaw, taw taw taw, quaw quaw quaw, Caw caw caw caw caw— Wooglin! h e crow s

“ And, bless your marrow bone,” said one venerable crone, “ Have you seen the curious pictures on the wall?

There are emblems there of dog, owl and dragon polliwog, And there’s ‘Beta Theta Pi’ in the hall, And a motto from the mummy of old Rameses or of Horus, As ’tis written: ‘Thebe Stisgo Oden Ough Forus’ : Oh! they’re worsted politicians, and they dine on boiled owl, O r they beat their dog and make a pie, and never let him howl.”

Chaw chaw chaw, taw taw taw, quaw quaw quaw, Caw caw caw caw caw— Wooglin!

Then spoke a crow whose glossy back was tinged with sheeny blue: “ T o know them better you should keep your tree an hour or two, And not take flight too early after dawn; Then you’d see the fairy babies and the active girls and boys, And the youths and merry maidens, dancing round the lawn; And here, freed from household care, that noblest creature human,

375

Good, gracious, graceful, witty, soul-possessing, lovely woman; And men whose knowledge shows itself in lines of such diversity, They can keep a good hotel as well as man a university.”

Chaw chaw chaw, taw taw taw, quaw quaw quaw, Caw caw caw caw caw— Wooglin! “ And many a college class-room from the north, south, east and west, Sends Convention representatives, the brightest and the best; These are life’s unfinished poems, storage batteries of strength, Athletes, racers of the Olympics, who will win the prize at length.

Their ambitions are the promise of some good for all the land.

W ho shall set the limitations when ’tis God and Gideon’s band?”

Chaw chaw chaw, taw taw taw, quaw quaw quaw, Caw caw caw caw caw— Wooglin!

Now, of Beta Theta Pi, and its history of old, By this wise and well-disposed bird would doubtless have been told; But, an early-rising Freshman, who had brought his kodak down, Touched the button on the caucus— he would do the rest in town; Was mistaken for a murderous wight; the caucus flew away, Flapping broad wings toward Mayville, across the Wooglin Zee, Calling: Chaw chaw chaw, taw taw taw, quaw quaw quaw, Chau— tau— qua— Caw caw caw caw caw— Wooglin!

A

376

B eta B ard

of

1891

AN EPISODE OF WOOGLIN IN THE OLDEN DAYS i w a s in the evening tw ilig h t th ere **• I saw th em , sittin g on the stair,

Her golden locks and his dark hair In shadow blent.

While at their feet in Wooglin hall, The Beta boys and maidens all W ith cheery song and joyful call The moments spent.

A glimpse revealed the whole romance, The smile, the meaning-freighted glance— They seemed in an unworldly trance, Not needing talk.

But another glimpse, as the shadow grew Lighter, the romance all withdrew— He was merely cleaning her dancing shoe With billiard chalk.

C l y d e B o w m a n F u r s t , Dickinson ’ 93

R O U G H W E A T H E R O N W O O G L IN D O C K f t e r a Wooglin flirtation,

A time of unalloyed bliss, Parting, at end of vacation, I ask her for one loving kiss.

Shyly she lifts her sweet lips to mine, And gently I kiss her; ah me! how I love The pretty, charming little dove! — Alas! I ’m forty! she but nine.

Louis F r e d e r i c k R u f , Rutgers ’85 A N O D IO U S O D E T O T H E H E R O O F T H E D A Y youth <>/T JL Minus more than one tooth p e r e n n ia l

TV

And his locks somewhat sprinkled with gray Dislikes to disclose,

377

W hat his canny wife knows— His age— you can’t get him to say.

He was many years older A t first when he told her But soon he began to lose count; For he had a great hunger It seemed to grow younger While her years still continued to mount.

So if he keeps on The way he has gone Some witnesses ought to be sworn, For imagine how sad T o live till you had A husband, who had not been born.

M r s . C h a r l e s M i t c h e l l M o r p h y , Miami ’ 07

C O L L E G E HASH | n e sw eetly solem n th o u g h t,

Comes to me o’er and o’er, When e’er I think of College hash And boarding clubs of yore.

No wonder that our studies seemed So much bombastic trash, T he reason was— we braced ourselves And conquered them with hash.

The Latins and the Greeks came round, W e met them, and they fell.

Then Metaphysics whirled his cane And tried to play the swell; Old chap, said we, it’s understood You’ve got to take a mash; And so we clubbed him fore and aft,— The bludgeon used was hash.

Geology came tripping up W ith many a merry wile; And Calculus forgot himself And met us with a smile.

378

Then young Miss Hygiene waltzed along And tried our hearts to smash, W e simply kissed our hands and said, Young Miss, we feed on hash.

Next came a lot of Hebrew Roots, Led on by Prince Katal, And Dagish Fortes swarmed around And served him like a pal.

Come on! come on! the minions cried, And let us have a brash!

W e vanquished them with one broadside O f prime old College hash.

No wonder that the stilly nights A t times pricked up their ears.

Our speeches, toasts, debates were like The music of the spheres.

W e soared through heights where stars are And seraph charms abash— The secret of it all was this, W e plumed our wings with hash.

O how we loved to saunter down Beneath the moon’s soft light; And with some other fellow’s girl, Spend, well say, half the night.

W e’d talk of blissful times to come, And twirl our young mustache, And never leave until we felt The awful want of hash.

Y e plodders still in wisdom’s way, Let me adorn my tale; Go on and reach that starry height Where honors never fail.

But as you climb the golden stair, Go slowly— don’t be rash; There’s nothing gained by rushing up, There’s nothing sure but hash.

You may go shabbily in dress, O r wear your room-mate’s vest;

379

You may forget to oil your hair And still be truly blest.

You may be rich, or wise, or great, And never cut a dash, But ah! this worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a fleeting show, Unless you mind your hash.

D a v id R oss M

380

il l e r ,

Monmouth â&#x20AC;&#x2122; 74

A Beta Anthology ☆

Poems by Betas published in the Fraternity magazine, 1872-1936, in each case of copy­ righted matter by permission; in many in­ stances first published there.

T H E C A M IO N C A R A V A N in d in g

W

dow n through sleeping tow n,

Pale stars of early dawn; Like ancient knight with squire by side, Driver and helper now, we ride— The camion caravan.

In between the rows of trees, Glare of the mid-day sun; Creeping along the high-way wide, Slowly in lone defile we ride— The camion caravan.

Homeward to remorque and rest, Pale stars of early night; Through stillness of the even-tide, Back through the winding town we ride— The camion caravan.

G

eorge

E llsw o rth A

m ic k ,

Hanover *17

F R IE N D SH IP r ie n d s h ip —

is it but a name— A bubble thin, like worldly fame, Born to float, alas, to break When life and death may be at stake?

Akin to love but less intense, ’T is love alloyed with common sense, As precious as the earth we tread; Oh, let me die when friendship’s dead!

F r a n c is D

381

upont

A

m m en,

Lehigh ’97

W H E N W IN T E R SH RIEKS Rondeau winter shrieks o’er barren hill And vale, with voice both loud and shrill, And gone are songs that through the spring And summer made the green woods ring— W ith ecstasy my senses thrill. hen

For more than murmur of the rill, And more than song of birds, is still The music that the wild winds bring When winter shrieks.

W hat though no flowers with perfumes fill The biting air; turn where we will The frost has wrought some lovely thing T o stir our hearts and bid us sing, And prove to song there come no ill When winter shrieks.

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

A W IN T E R M O R N IN G i a i r is sharp with frost, the hills with snow Are clad, and sluggishly the laggard sun Tells to the wan, still earth the night is done.

Reluctant, noiseless, in dim spectral show, The shadows creep away with footsteps slow Like mournful ghosts, departing one by one.

Swift gleams of dawn herald the day begun, Blazoning the orient sky with sunrise glow.

Above me rise the clear-rimmed eastern hills, Illumined in the morning’s ruddy light.

W ith ardent, sense-stirred warmth my being thrills, The flush of health upon my cheek flames bright; A smile flits o’er the silent, white-veiled fields, And haunting gloom to dreams of beauty yields.

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

382

L IF E A N D D E A T H

0

is but a w ave that flows A m om ent o’er the shores of tim e ;

ur l if e

And death is but the wave’s quick ebb Back to life’s sea sublime.

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

ONCE

0

world was filled with a music sweet, That sung through my heart and brain, Once the wind that sobbed in the swaying trees Awoke an ecstatic pain: Once my eyes found beauty in every place, A t dawn and at set of sun, Once the hours in radiance glided by, As joyous as rivers run: And my thoughts swept out to the sounding sea W ith tides of joy and love, And my soul caught gleams of infinity And echoes from above. nce th e

But the busy world now hems me in, And dulls my sense of sight, And the hurried hours no longer bring A burden of beauty bright; And my ears are stopped to the music low That sings in the pine tree’s top, And my heart no longer feels the glow, And passion it knoweth not.

And unsung is the song I fain would sing, And mute are the lips for aye, For the night has come with its voiceless pall, And faded the light of day.

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

383

RICHES HAVE WINGS ic h e s

^

have w in g s,” alas! ’tis tru e ,

For they elude my eager hand And take to flight, though I pursue By night and day, by sea or land.

Like game-birds shy they sudden rise And beat the air with rapid w ing; A sportsman, missing through surprise, An empty game-bag home I bring.

M y dog starts from the underbrush The drumming partridge into flight; I hear the whirr, the sudden rush, And watch the bird till out of sight.

While others shoot upon the wing, I wait the chance of better aim; Empty I come, they homeward bring The plethoric bag of choicest game.

I learn too late that while I wait I lose the chance that fortune brings, And realize, while I debate, “ Riches have wings.”

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

HE W A S M Y F R IE N D

my friend. Alas, and must I say He was? The ties of yesterday have snapped Asunder and to-day, in sorrow wrapped I, uncompanioned, must take my way Along a path that lies in shadows gray, Where dark and threatening heights with gloom are capped, Where waters cold about my feet are lapped, Where I can scarce discern the night from day.

E

w as

And yet— though earthly presence be withdrawn, Though seeming twilight deepens into night, And dust to dust appears to be the end—

384

May not this be the dim gray herald, dawn, That ushers in the day with robes of white, And may I not still say he is my friend?

II ’Tis life, not death, that we the most should fear, For life, with Circe-power, transforms our friends, And wings of easy flight to friendship lends, And poisons even those to us most near, But death, that lays the body on the bier, Stops with that act, his dreaded power there ends.

T o touch the spirit all his might transcends, T o harm or change what made our friends so dear.

The fragrance of a pure and noble life, The sweetness of a firm and faithful heart, The whiteness of a strong and loving soul, Untouched by death, survive the weary strife, And leave our friend unchanged in any part— Ours now, and ours while ceaseless ages roll.

H a r m o n S e e l e y B a b c o c k , Brown ’ 74

A CO N TRAST FAILURE

I trimmed, elaborate casket lies Before the pulpit, almost hid by flowers, Which fall in fragrant, party-colored showers.

Above, around, below the death-closed eyes O f him, for whom false tears are shed, and sighs, Forced from reluctant breasts by lagging hours And in compliance with the nameless powers Which dictate outward shows of grief, arise.

r ic h l y

The preacher names the virtues of the dead, A catalogue, which is a great surprise T o those, who, in his lifetime, knew him best,— His moral courage, heart that felt no dread,

385

His deeds of kindness, noble sacrifice, And purity of life which others blest.

II W hat did he leave? He left a pile of gold, And countless stocks and bonds and house and lands, And starving wretches, from whose nerveless hands He wrung the wealth he dying could not hold; He left wan mothers, perishing with cold, And infants, freezing to an empty breast; He left a multitude by him oppressed, Whose wasting lives he heartless bought and sold.

He left a widow smiling through her tears, Unfilial sons who scarce could hide their joy, And daughters who experienced relief; Few tears were shed, and these sprang not from grief, But joy that he no longer could annoy Those who had hated him for many years.

III Out of the pulpit, lying, servile priest, W ho dar’st extol as virtue shameless vice, And sell thy sacred office for a price T o glorify with flattering tropes this beast!

Thou, who hast seen the star shine in the East, And heard angelic chorals from the skies O f “ Peace on earth, good will to men” arise, Dar’st call him great who less is than the least?

And ye, base sycophants, who flattered him; Y e vultures congregating round the slain; Y e filthy scavengers of social life, For once, go look beyond earth’s noisy strife, And see this naked soul with many a stain Shrink self-accused to regions dark and grim!

SUCCESS

I A simple coffin borne by loving friends, A score or two of neighbors following slow, W ith moistened eyes and voices sad and low, 386

Into the church-yard solemnly descends.

A simple prayer with sound of mourning blends, A few brief words of comfort for their woe, Kind words for him, gone where they all must go, Whose life the priest in fitting terms commends.

The simple coffin, holding all of earth, The casket from which Death had filched the gem, Is low’red into the deep and yawning grave, And all is done that could be done by them.

The spirit, conscious of its heavenly birth, Has found its rest with Him who came to save.

II What did he leave? Not riches, nor a name Upon the lips of those who only raise T o worldly honor monuments of praise, Yet none the less possessed of a fair fame,— A life which reckoned not on praise or blame, But sought its glory in more humble ways, In works of charity had passed its days, And won release untouched by fear or shame.

His title-deeds were noble deeds of love, His honor, hearts made glad and homes made bright, His recompense, a conscience satisfied.

O , his was the success approved above, Where waits for such a dazzling robe of light, A crown of joy, and fame the world denied!

H a r m o n Se e l e y B a b c o c k ,

Brown ’ 74

HENRY W . LO N G FELLO W I ear

poet of our common hopes and fears,

Our life of constant toil and vexing care, W ho makest humble loves divinely fair, And driest with thy sympathy our tears, W ho givest hope to face the coming years, And fearless all their heavy burdens bear, 387

And with each other common trials share, Nor dread the end when it at last appears— T h y day has gone, and peaceful night has come, And thou hast laid aside the busy pen, And sought the long-expected, needed rest, In sleep that waketh not; thy lips are dumb; But thou still livest in the hearts of men, Whose lives thy precious words of cheer have blest.

II Not with the tramp of men thy pages ring, The clash of arms, the cannon’s heavy roar, The shrieks of soldiers weltering in their gore, The tumult that contending armies bring; Not of unholy passions dost thou sing, Whose footprints leave a stain upon the floor; Not of consuming lust, whose death-fires o’er Our fearful souls prophetic shadows fling: Thou poet of the pure and good and true, Whose page no blot of coarseness doth defile, T o cause fair virtue’s cheek to blush with shame; W ith vigor shalt our wasted strength renew, W ith rest our troubled spirits still beguile, And prove that death to thee is but a name.

H a r m o n Se e l e y B a b c o c k ,

Brown ’ 74

A W E D D IN G R O U N D E L and sweet as Italian skies T o you be the future that now you greet; As bright as the hours in midsummer guise, Sunny and sweet. unny

May the song of your life be clear, complete, And attuned to thoughts that are grandly wise, W ith principle, purpose, and honor replete, W ith truth, and all that the name implies; May your days be long, and yet seemingly fleet From the depths of a love that shall ever arise, Sunny and sweet.

W il l ia m M elv in Ba il e y , 388

Maine ’ 91

W H E N P O E T S SAN G RONDEAU

poets sang, in olden days, Their loving lyrics and fair lays, Their gifts were held in high acclaim And often won them shining fame,— Such tribute as the lover pays,— hen

When kings and knights gave meed of praise, While ladies’ eyes shed softer rays And hearts were oft with love aflame, When poets sang.

But later came more ruthless ways, That brought in lieu of laurels bays, And bards were loth to bear the name That brought them only blame and shame From hearts that heard in chill amaze When poets sang.

C h a m be r s B air d ,

Harvard ’ 82

IF I C O U L D SIN G AS SA PPH O SAN G could sing as Sappho sang, — As Sappho sang— When all the heights with splendor rang, — W ith splendor rang— As pausing ere her fateful leap, She gazed upon the heaving deep, That moaned and broke adown the steep, And then outsprang,—

F 1

Dear Love, I ’d look into your eyes, — Into your eyes— Whose kindly nay my hope denies, — M y hope denies— And with my last long burst of breath Make songs such as no singer saith, And gladly then leap forth to death, O f high emprise.

H EIN E white swan, who in a wearied flight Sped over lands and seas, and overhung W ith maim’d, worn pinions the abodes of light Whence he was exile. And the while he sung A wild, sad melody wherein despair Was ever link’d with wondrous sweetness rare, Whose tender, haunting strains echoed his wrong; A death-song lasting as the stricken life was long. strange

C h a m b er s B a ir d ,

Harvard ’ 82

FAM E s o n e who onward up some steep is climbing W ith wearied effort midst the gathering night, W ho with impatient haste his work is timing When he may reach the toiled-for crowning height, Whence stretches far beyond a vista glowing W ith all the burning glare of sunset flame, Its crimsoning flood of cloud-massed splendor showing, Illuming world and sky past earthly claim; So does the radiance from great honors beaming Reward the striver with a fame most fair; Such lustre of celestial birth-right seeming, But fading, too, as fades some sunset rare.

C h a m b e r s B air d ,

Harvard ’ 82

O N T H E H E IG H T S the many-voiced, dull-murmuring world I stood, where from the upland’s crowning crest I watched the evening splendors of the west In gorgeous, passionate pageantry unfurled; And as the bursts of flame leapt up and curled About the horizon’s dome, in my glad breast Broke forth such glow of ecstasy unguessed, Whereby were life, death, and all fate empearled. bove

390

All thrilled I gazed the while the radiance waned, T ill ’gainst the paling sky’s wan circlet-rim The star-lit night’s oblivion lapped its brim; But mirrored on my sight the glory gained, And on my soul had such blest rapture dawned That I had almost known God’s peace beyond.

C h a m b e r s B a ir d ,

Harvard ’ 82

REGRET y

I look into thy calm, bright eyes, I know thy fair mesmeric presence near, I trust those sympathies so true and dear, I hear the melody of thy voice arise, And catch the deeper sense that underlies T h y loved words and sweet tones, that tell me clear The story of a life lived year to year O f fervid pulsings full— and oft of sighs,— But, when I mark the glow of passion start, That flames anew thy radiance-flooded soul, And feel the throbbing answer of my heart, I would that time for thee could backward roll, That I had known thee in those fervent years Before thy flush of youth was griefed by tears. ear fr ie n d ,

C h a m b e r s B air d ,

Harvard ’ 82

ROSES roses red, there are roses white— which shall I wear for my love to-night? :r e

are

There are roses red for the cheeks that flush And greet my love with a tender blush.

There are roses white to wreathe in my hair, That my love may find them and me more fair.

There are roses red for the lips that glow T o meet in the thrill that wild lovers know.

391

There are roses white as the snow that flies, Pure as young eyes when their longings rise.

There are roses red for the face a-flame That tell-tale answers my lover’s name.

There are roses white for the cheeks that pale A t the thought that my love perchance may fail.

There are roses white, there are roses red, Both shall I wear, be I wed or dead.

C h a m b er s Bair d ,

Harvard ’ 82

T O RO SE

(9

winds ’midst the gay flowers straying, O fond winds ’mongst the roses playing, Mark you this white rose fair?

Pass gently by her, or softly hover, T ill every vagrant air Shall be to her as a tender lover. lig h t

II O wild years coming like breezes blowing, O swift years coming and swiftly going, In peace our fair Rose spare!

Touch her but gently, with soft caresses, And let not wanton care Ever toss rudely her soft-brown tresses.

C h a m b er s Bair d ,

H ER G L O V E S gloves I lightly press W ith loving touch and tenderness, And think so fondly on her face, Her kindly heart, her winsome grace, y s w e e t h e a r t ’s

392

Harvard ’ 82

And all the charms she doth profess; For now I thankfully confess She holds my heart in sweet duress, While I have only in the place My sweetheart’s gloves.

But here I suffer some distress, That though I love her none the less, I ’d rather see her for a space And hold her hands in dear embrace Than have these crinkled gloves, I guess!

— My sweetheart’s gloves!

C h a m be r s B air d ,

Harvard ’ 82

M E M O R IA L S this old box? Ah, yes— I remember, They’re only some relics of past college days; Some ringlets, notes, ribbons, and dry crumbling flow­ ers— W hat ghosts of dim memories these poor old things raise!

h y , w h a t ’s

And with them are scattered the names of some girls— Their faces have faded even more in my mind, Lost, from sight, dead or married, or something or other— W ell, but some of them once were quite charming and kind.

Now, here’s a white rose; I wonder who gave it.

W hy, “ From Nellie!” Look here, dear sweet wife— And don’t you remember your giving me this, That evening you made me so happy for life?

C h a m be r s Bair d ,

Harvard ’ 82

A T L A N T IS s o n e who hears beside a quiet shore, When seas are stilled and winds and waves are spent, Faint murmurs of that vanquished continent Whose storied plains reach out an ocean’s floor

393

O ’er which the dusk, pulsating waters pour W ith sound of bells, by the swaying flood inpent, Toiling, now lone and low, now full and blent, Then lost again amid the surfy roar:— So through the silent spaces of the dark, When lulls the world-hum on the muffled blast, There strays a tender chord of some far strain From time when love was sweet and hope not vain; And pulses throb and with dear longing mark The distant echoes of a buried past.

C h a m b e r s B air d ,

Harvard ’ 82

T H E M A ID O F T H E M IS T the wind-kissed waves in eager chase, Careening o’er star-gazing ocean’s face, Tumultuous rush to lap the horizon’s brim, Chanting in unison their murmurous hymn Whose wailing cadence to celestial ears Echoes the dim-hushed melodies of the spheres; Beyond the grosser pale of man’s domain That sullies not this limpid, trackless plain; There, where no tarnished airs the pureness daunt, The genius of the vapors has her haunt.

Light spirit of the ghostly-dimming haze, For whom the waves and winds are favoring ways, Entrancing goddess, trailing o’er the brine Whose every billow rears itself her shrine, In gentle dalliance with the sun-fanned breeze, That wafts her lightly o’er enchanting seas.

And when the dusky night’s dim phantom-maze, Its fireflake stars faint flashing through the haze, Unfolds, her sylphids in swift phalanx rush T o rest her dreamily through the languorous hush.

rAR, w h e r e

C h a m b e r s B air d ,

394

Harvard ’ 82

T W O C H O R D S IN A M IN O R K E Y

o

nears the mouldering, kelp-fringed piers, The lagging tides no more swell precious freight T o time-worn shores, marred by defacing years; A harbor desolate.

vessel

Love’s joys are fled this heart. W ith no relief I mark life palsied to unfruitaged pleas; Its confines chafed by a flood of loveless grief, The fateless pulsing of dead memories.

II Deep in a gorge beneath the mountain’s crest, Whose rifted crags, o’ermantling sun-fed day, Shed sombre shadow on the water’s breast, A darkling lakelet lay.

In life’s wide realm, o’erfraught with unsummed strife Are lodged some souls whom hope’s dawn, flush­ ing fair, Hath ne’er illumed nor made with presage rife.

The pathos of such fate transcends despair.

C h a m be r s B air d ,

Harvard ’ 82

R E C O M P E N SE ingarner the wild, wild years?

Shall harvest the memories time more endears, Shall picture the splendors of sunset-glare, Shall trace the swift swallow-flight through the thin air, Shall paint the rich tangle the rose-bed weaves, Shall follow the swirl of the flying leaves?

Ah, who?

ho sh all

W ho shall ingarner the wild, wild years?

Shall fondly inurn the sad, wasted tears,

395

Shall Shall Shall Shall

still the mad pulsings that thrill the heart, sate its sweet longings that lovingly start, utter the passions it yet must suppress, soothe the dark sorrows it dares not confess ?

Ah, who?

Swift is the flight of the wild, wild years, And soon is all done but our hopes and fears.

The swallows are nested, the sunset is dimmed, T he roses are faded, the autumn-cup’s brimmed; But the heart finds no balm and questions in vain, When shall be ended in peace this pain?

Ah, when?

C h a m b e r s B air d ,

Harvard ’ 82

A FT E R M A N Y YEARS I harbor thee a welcome guest: Thou madest me sage, if aught I am, and skilled T o learn life’s broadest arts. No more I build Vain temples by forgetful fame unblest, Nor madly brave some luring phantom-quest.

I count no fretting hopes yet unfulfilled; But know, with passionate youth’s wild tremor stilled, The lulling cadences of pulseless rest.

ld a g e ,

The tide of time drifts by, still as a dream, Its margin crowned with calm and presage-spanned; The years enrich me as a silt-fraught stream, Laden with opulent spoil from many a field, Gilds with its golden store some mellow strand— Ah, would this lustrum could full fruitage yield!

C h a m be r s Bair d ,

Harvard ’ 82

A ROUNDELAY OF RHYME A VALENTINE

I lightly send T o you, my loved and lovely friend, T o tell you as the days drift by That faithful love is ever nigh, T o serve you fondly to the end. v a l e n t in e

In hope acceptance may attend, Another votive rite I blend, And offered at your shrine am I, A valentine.

And if I thought ’twould not offend Return in kind I ’d recommend, And ask you give me in reply Your darling self for aye and aye, The fairest favor ever kenned, A valentine. i n sto r y or song

“ The stories have all been told.” — W . D. Howells.

Gone are the heroes of romance, W ho knew no victor but the years; No more with sword or pennon-lance They succor lovely maids in tears.

Enchanted wood nor magic hall Could daunt these faithful knights of old, But Tim e has blown his loud home-call; The stories are all told!

Gone are the heroes of romance; But still, undaunted by the years, Heart leaps to heart in happy chance, And knows no foe but its own fears, Forever feels that sweet unrest, For life and love are ever young; They live the best who love the best: The songs are not all sung!

397

T H E A M O R O U S O V E R -SO U L

(A Swinburnian Echo) 0 life, my love! Such love of life Inflames my soul with piteous care; All else were nowise worth the strife, For having thee, all else I share.

M y life is love, and love is fair; Life with impassioned love is rife, And love encloses all. O spare Love’s long last lingering lust of life!

A

F LIR T

As I walk out about these parts, Most innocently wise, 1 think I see the Queen of Hearts, Decked out in no disguise.

I speak, you see, quite by the card, Whatever I assert.

And now it strikes me rather hard, That Mabel is a flirt.

I don’t know very much, perhaps, But still it’s very clear, That I have known some several chaps T o whom this maid came dear; And she in turn brought some quite low, And some were highly hurt, So now they rather feel— or know— That Mabel is a flirt.

The comedy is just begun, But by and by ’twill cease, And then, when all the fun is done, A tragic afterpiece.

But watch the scene and save your tears, The play is gay and pert; ’T w ill do to say in after years That Mabel was a flirt.

D R E A M -SO N G

Far o’er the western seas, Into the sunset glow,

Tenderly fanned by the breeze, M y spirit-bark doth go.

Wrapped in caressing airs, It drifts on the undulous tide; Vanished the world and its cares, Sailing the waters wide.

I know not what is beyond, In my sweetly adventurous quest; But on me the splendor hath dawned, And I know that I shall find rest.

LOVE-SONG

I ’T is when upon the upland’s crown The pale dawn lies confessed, love, And flushed with hope from heaven sent down Swiftly dispels the night’s dark frown,— ’T is then I love you best, love, ’T is then I love you best.

II ’T is when the orient, royal sun Emblazons all the west, love, And marks in realms of splendor won Another happy day soon done,— ’T is then I love you best, love, ’T is then I love you best.

III ’T is when eve’s glowing, golden star Is drifting down to rest, love, And stainless Dian’s crescent car Is cleaving the horizon’s bar,— ’T is then I love you best, love, ’T is then I love you best.

AUTUMN DAISIES IN OHIO

T ell me, where do the daisies grow ?

The starlike flower with its flakes of snow That fringe about for a lover’s charm Its heart of gold, so rich and warm. “ He loves me— loves me not,” she cries, And the petals fall as the tear founts rise.

399

Midsummer’s gem is the daisy fair; But here in this fine soft southern air, By the shore of the beautiful stream that flows From the east far into the sunset glows, It fades not, nor doth its radiance fail, T ill the glories of Indian summer pale.

Come, you shall go where the daisies grow : In a sheltered vale that opes below From a rift in the rounded hills, which rear The oriflamme of the perfect year In florid splendor of autumn dyes, From the hazy heights to the purple skies. ’Neath the verge of the gorgeous woodland-crown, The white-starred lawny slopes run down, And the dainty flowerets gleam and blow T ill the blue mist melts in wreathes of snow. “ He loves you— yes!” so the daisies say, “ So long as the summer bloom shall stay.”

C h a m b e r s B a ir d ,

Harvard ’ 82

ONE T O AN OTH ER 1 /

to see you: You need not say You are glad to see me, or anything such, But I hope you will smile in the same old way, — Though not too much! a m co m in g

2

I am coming to see you: You need not speak O f the dear old things in the old-time way; W e have said “ good-bye! ” we will not be weak.

— Not every day!

3 I am coming to see you: You will not sing O f love and Douglas so tender and true, W ith cadence and chords of a mournful swing, — As you used to do!

400

4 I am coming to see you: You will not play Some sweet haunting rhythm in a minor key, Then break forth anon in a splendid way, — And look at me!

5 I am coming to see you: You need not write T o tell me you’ll be at home or not, For one time’s as good as another night, — For one who’s forgot!

6 I am coming to see you: You need not wait, But please to remember I send my regards, And with them enclose this defeat of fate, — M y wedding cards!

C

ham bers

B a ir d . Harvard ’ 82

A BALLAD OF STATES I, NEW YORK

i n t h e Empire State, that hath waxed so great By the things that are and the men who dare, Where the works are done that shall challenge fate, In the city of gold by the sea so fair; In the marts of trade and the haunts of care, Where they toil and they jest, and but death gives rest,— W e have reared our fane and shall not beware: This is the state that we love the best.

II. MASSACHUSETTS

In the old Bay State, with its Boston gate That doth open the way to its culture rare, Where the scholar may come to his high estate, There is history made, there is fame to spare; In the halls of learning that rise so fair For the eager quest of the truth that blest,— W e have reared our fane and shall not beware: This is the state that we love the best.

401

III. VIRGINIA

In the Cavalier State, of most ancient date, W ith its lands so proud and its valleys fair That are loved by the sun and the mountains great, And doth ever the glamor of glory wear; Where the race arose that could do and dare, And their deeds are the test of the gentle’s crest,— W e have reared our fane and shall not beware: This is the state that we love the best.

ENVOY

Lord, in the hearts of our friends who care For the lords whom we test and we toast as guests, W e have reared our fane and shall not beware: This is the state that we love the best.

C h a m b e r s B a ir d , Harvard ’ 82

T O “ J U N O yy CALLIOPE

s

in sweet dreaming there dawns a rare vision, That flames like a meteor, lovely with light, And sheds the sweet balm of its nature elysian Before it has flown from our fond, longing sight— w hen

CLIO

So thus on my glance rose a fair apparition, Not like a thin phantom, to fade from my gaze, But came as a herald endowed with a mission, T o comfort and gladden my pleasureless days.

ERATO

And when I had looked, lo! there stood a sweet maiden, Gifted with beauty and charms to allure, A presence with grace and rare loveliness laden, As makes mournful fortunes less dire to endure.

EUTERPE

A figure of symmetry, stately and slender, Like a white-shining birch-tree, sylph of the wood, 402

So enchanting in fairness, of spirit so tender That my heart filled with rapture ne’er yet understood.

MELPOMENE

A smiling, sweet mouth, enwreathed in red roses, A pale, velvet cheek, that the snows ever claim T ill some swift-dawning flush a rich tingling discloses, Like a pearly cloud stained by the deep sunset flame.

POLYHYMNIA

And ’neath the wild maze of blonde tresses that clustered About the dimmed brow for a coronal bright, Shone the wide, wistful eyes, calm, clear and dark-lust’red, W ith a wealth of warm tenderness met in their light.

TERPSICHORE

Graceful and statuesque stood she, uprearing Her shining head poised on a gleaming white throat, Her round, shapely arms like blanched marble appearing Through the gossamer waves that round her did float.

THALIA

A goddess she seemed, like some splendid ideal O f the old Greek serenity, pure and divine; A rare inspiration made vivified, real, For the reverent years as a fane to enshrine— URANIA

Thus fondly my heart guards its radiant treasure, That solaces sweetly drear T im e’s lonely flight Like a soft-lulling cadence, a hoard of glad pleasure, T ill its memory fade in a dream of delight.

ENVOY

She for whom the Graces care Shall of all the Muses share.

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ham bers

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B a ir d , Harvard ’ 82

THE WISH-STAR Inscribed to Miss L . G. Star bright, star of light, First star seen to-night.

I wish I may— O ! would I might— Get the wish I wish to-night.

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r —Mow w h i t e is eve’s first star, amid the glow O f the late-sunken sun! How its pure ray Falls glinting through the trees, to kiss the snow That, with his warmer glow, the amorous Day Y et could not melt to love— but died away In dim despair before yon hopeful star.

Fair orb, of sweetly superstitious sway, T o maiden fancy dear, whose wishes are Made nightly at thy shrine, and are thy care, O ! grant each girlish prayer, and bring it true, If so it be pure as the lips are fair Which tender it. And I am wishing, too, Y et seek not inspiration from the skies, But find a deeper source in her dark eyes.

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B a r b e r B is h o p , Union ’ 85

T H E F A L L O F T H E E V E N IN G

by night gleamed her sweet dark eyes, W ith a brightness of lovingly beautiful light, Matched never by beams from the starry skies Shining by night. h i n in g

As I stood on the doorstep’s slippery height I stooped to her lips, ’mid the parting sighs, And kissed them right shyly and with affright— When, suddenly, somehow I seemed to rise, Held fast by the grip of a father’s might, And I fell where the street lamp its light supplies, Shining by night.

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il l is

H e n r y B o c o c k , Hamfden-Sydney ’ 84 404

T O JOHN GREENLEAF W H ITTIER ' sn o w - b o u n d temples, though the hoar of years

That crown of rich autumnal ermine wreathe, A font of song perennial beneath W ith tropic heat the frost-line back appears T o beat; for Freedom’s voice still ringing cheers.

Beloved, only souls heroic breathe Such songs, as melting chains of steel, bequeath T o slaves the richest boon that life endears.

Though nears that bourn, toward which man’s pathway trends, Though Recollection may in Lethe dwell, Though Tim e, relentless, ring eternal change,— W ith joyous vespers of this day ascends Sweet prayer for thee, while ceaseless anthems well From hearts of love that Tim e can ne’er estrange.

W i l l i s B o u g h t o n , Michigan ’81

A T T H E W E S T E R N W IN D O W my western window A t the passing of the day, As the evening shadows lengthen, And the daylight fades away; But the hills are draped in purple, And the sky is steeped in gold; For the sun, its crowning glory, Keeps till the day is old. s it b y

I sit by my western window, And think of the long-ago, When the eastern hills were lighted In the morning’s rosy glow ; Bright were the hours of the morning, And brighter the hour of noon, But better still is the gloaming, And the best is coming soon.

I sit by my western window, As the white-winged memories throng 405

Into the silent chancel, T o keep their even song; And the hills are all empurpled, And the skies are steeped in gold, For Life, its crowning mercies Keeps till the day is old.

H en ry

B u r t o n , Beloit ’ 62

E A C H IN HIS O W N T O N G U E ^ F ire Mist and a planet, A crystal and a cell, A jelly fish and a saurian, And caves where cave-men dwell; Then a sense of law and beauty, And a face turned from the clod— Some call it Evolution, And others call it God. A haze on the far horizon, The infinite, tender sky, The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields, And the wild geese sailing high: And all over upland and lowland, The charm of the goldenrod— Some of us call it Autumn, And others call it God. Like tides on a crescent sea-beach, When the moon is new and thin, Into our hearts high yearnings Come welling and surging in: Come from the mystic ocean Whose rim no foot has trod— Some of us call it Longing, And others call it God. A picket frozen on duty, A mother starved for her brood, Socrates drinking the hemlock, And Jesus on the rood; 406

And millions who, humble and nameless, The straight, hard pathway plod— Some call it Consecration, And others call it God. W i l l i a m H e r b e r t C a r r u t h , Kansas ’ 80 (Used by permission)

TH E ELEVEN

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u t of

the g rim e they pick them selves.

A shake! They hear the whistled “ T im e !”

Grimy with scrimmage, sweat and dirt— The clean within shines through the grime.

Signals! A run! A tackle! Down!

Line up! More signals. Scrimmage. Name A fiercer struggle? Better blood?

A game where each man plays the game.

Decadent? Rotten? Worn-out race, T o die like Greece and Italy?

Their strength of youth, our youth of strength— America that is to be!

S t a r r G a r d in e r C o o p e r , Yale *08

L ’A M O U R S E U L E S T P A R F A IT t oC

a p r o s p e r i t e s’en vole

Le pouvoir tombe et s’enfuit.

Un peu d’amour qui console Vaut mieux et fait moins de bruit.”

— Victor Hugo.

Aye, Hugo, you are right once more!

Though full the barn and rich the store, Though wealth increase still more and more, Y et all shall pass away!

And love doth for them all console j 407

Love from its wealth can pay the toll, As down the road all else shall roll, Cry “ vale! ” and be gay.

But if ’tis love that flies away, Though riches, health and power should stay And crowding honors block the way, L ’Amour seul est parfait.

G e o r g e C l a r k e C o x , Kenyon ’86

T H E N IG H T IN G A L E Ioyons comme l’oiseau, pose pour un instant

Sur des rameaux trop freles Qui sent trembler la branche, mais qui chant pourtant Sachant qu’l a des ailes.

— Victor Hugo.

Be we like the nightingale As it through the air doth sail, Lighteth on a bough too frail, And we hear it, fearless, sing Though it see the branches swing, Conscious of a saving wing.

G e o r g e C l a r k e Cox, Kenyon ’86

IN M Y D E SK day for my old study desk, I smile and sigh in turn to see appear Mementoes of the past both sad and gay, I hear in fancy voices sweet and drear. c l e a n in g

Here in a letter smelling faintly sweet O f some long faded flower my love had worn, A picture, and a ring of fragrant hair— Reminders of a love that died, scarce born.

408

Here are some yerses (penned in college days) That treat of themes a Browning well had shunned.

Then, crowding these, O , how unfitly paired, A tradesman’s bill! Thus e’en are poets dunned.

Old wedding-cards; hark! how the music swells; And to my mind a most fair ghost appears— A sweet, flushed, girlish face, a sylph-like form; Eyes that are soft and bright, not made for tears.

Yet tears they knew, and many an anxious hour, She’s gone! ask me not how or when it was.

Rejected papers from a magazine, Streaked with blue pencil marks to show the flaws.

Here lies a package tied with somber black; You’ll pardon, reader, if we leave it so?

Some things are best untouched until the heart Be healed a little of the cruel blow.

Last comes a leathern case, with quaint gold rim And clasps, whose fashion smacks not of our time; Within, the portrait of a lovely girl!

Y e Muses all, haste ye to find a rhyme, That’s fit to tell the beauties of her face!

T o say what gentleness therein is seen, And make the most of that unconscious grace That vies with strength to dignify her mien.

SONG

Whisper it soft to the friend you can trust— Nay, swell it loud to the world: I love her!

All other maidens may go, if they must; Constant am I to this one— my mother!

G e o r g e C l a r k e C ox, Kenyon ’86

4°9

THE DEATH OF CONSTANCE From the French w u i c k , Anna, quick! T o the mirror— fly! ^ Mark how the short-lived hours go by, For there’s a ball to-night: and I The while my feet o’er glide his waxen floor Shall see “ at home” the French ambassador.

Think you they are faded quite, those flowers, Whose bunches but last night were fresh and fair ?

Alas, how all things must so soon give place!

W hat think you of the net which binds my hair?

Ah! but those azure tassles have not lost their grace.

T oo high! too low ! Have you no skill at all?

See how that sapphire shines, ’gainst the white forehead’s wall!

Stupid— inane— your hands too heavy fall!

Pardon, dear Anna, you were dutiful, I know it now, for I am beautiful.

He, whom in vain I would forget— (Anna, my gown) I hope he will be there.

(M y necklace— what, not ready yet?

Those golden beads, blessed by the good Saint Pere.)

He will be there; and should he press my hand In taking it! M y heart-beats stop my breathing— Tomorrow, Pere Anselmo— confession— you understand.

(How shall I do, dear Anna?) My very blood is seething.

A swift, last glance into the mirror’s face.

Yet sure am I from that one fleeting glance This night will all men love me for my grace, Chez l’Ambassadeur de France.

Too near the fire, admiring, Constance stood.

Heavens! Upon her dress behold a sudden flare!

You run— too late. When Hope was at the flood T o lose all thus! What, die? And she so fair.

The licking flame, with gnawing, awful joy, Mounts to her bosom and her arms of cream; 410

Seeks, pitiless, her beauty to destroy; Her eighteen years, alas! and her sweet dream. ♦

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Adieu to ball, to pleasure and to love!

The world said “ Poor Constance” And yet— they danced until the break of day Chez l’Ambassadeur de France.

G e o r g e C l a r k e C o x , Kenyon ’80

T H E SO N G U N SU N G M h a v e piped in vain to the fancies w ild That roam through the pathless fields of thought; But the wanderers will not be beguiled, Howe’er so gently they are besought.

They will not dance to the slender tune M y reed pours forth on the drowsy air; But afar they hover and faintly croon A mystical song that is sweet and rare.

I hear their music, but cannot seize Its far-off wonderful melody; Nor can I tell how fair are these W ho charm my soul with their minstrelsy.

M y spirit, stirred with strong delight, Beats like a bird against her bars, And longs to wing her utmost flight Where shine the calm, eternal stars.

But the body sinks, and the mortal clay W ith its blissful burden is weak and spent; And the fainting senses swoon away T o a dreamful rapture of sweet content. ’T is pain to think that the song must die And the vision fade from the sight away, That the wandering fancies hence must fly W ith none to lure them and bid them stay.

411

If they would but sing with an accent clear, How the thralling spell of their wondrous song Would draw the spirits of men to hear The beautiful music, sweet and strong!

But I cannot catch the faint refrain And the vision fair from my soul has fled; I seek for the poet’s boon in vain, So I proffer these bootless rhymes instead.

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il l ia m

H e n r y C r a w s h a w , Colgate ’ 87

T H E S IL E N T P O E T

>7 . . „ the soul / h a t longings fill O f him who feels the infinite power of song, Y e t sadly yearns in vain T o voice the passionate thoughts that in him throng.

Earth has no sorrow that is not despair Which with the voiceless poet’s can compare.

W ith hands outstretched, he stands, Upon his face the glory of the skies; Y et still his voice is dumb; The tears of passion tremble in his eyes, His young heart throbs with that intense desire Which still consumes him with its pent-up fire. “ Oh, for the strength to pour One song immortal in the ears of men!

Oh, the proud joy, to hear, From far, its notes come echoing back again, Its melody with deepest passion thrilled, W ith purpose grand its mighty burden filled. “ A song whose harmonies Might mingle with the thunders of high Jove, O r sweetly melt its strains Into the sounds which swell from lips of love.

W hat though ’twere sung in agony and tears?

These for the moment last— that through all coming years.”

412

Yet, poet, comfort thee.

Stern silence seals thy lips forevermore; But, to thine own glad soul, Glad though dumb anguish nestle at its core, T h y silent muse shall teach this heavenly thing,— T o live the poem that thou couldst not sing.

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H e n r y C r a w s h a w , Colgate ’ 87

T H E SPH IN X i

a l m l y the hooded Sphinx doth sit enthroned

Above the tumult and the strife of men.

Her old, mysterious riddle still unsolved, She holdeth yet within her own sad ken.

Her eyes are heavy with the weight of years; Her lips are sealed, but that she now and then Doth drowsily unclose them, to propound The mystic, fateful riddle once again.

Whoe’er doth fail that riddle to unfold She dashes down the horrid rocks to death.

Up from the depths ascends the dying moan, Borne on the slow wings of the parting breath.

Men grow afraid the awful guess to try, And gaze with terror on her brow of stone, The hazard is more fearful than the doubt, And so they pass and leave the Sphinx alone.

But see! There cometh one with lifted brow, More calm and stately than the Sphinx’s own, Whose eyes beam light, whose calm lips beautiful Make this keen answer to the beast of stone: “ I am the T ru th ! I am the Light of L ife !

T h y riddle, long unsolved, is now made known.

Dash thyself down, O beast, unto thy death.

Dash thyself down from off thy rocky throne!

W

il l ia m

H e n r y C r a w s h a w , Colgate ’ 87

413

SHIPWRECK T

m orn,

the sunlit sea, the sw elling sail;

A t noon, the dashing waves, the tempest’s roar; A t night, the sad sea waste, the moonlight pale, One lying dead upon the lonely shore.

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il l ia m

H e n r y C r a w s h a w , Colgate ’ 87

I— L IF E is dear, O Life, T o those whom thy full blessing hath made glad; And even those who languish and are sad W ith too much care and strife Find rest and joy in thee, As coming with thy gifts of hopes and fears, T h y fair eyes shine with laughter through their tears, Bidding all sorrow flee.

One radiant glance of thine Is full of potent magic to dispel Fear’s gathering gloom or Doubt’s despairing chill; And though we grieve and pine Amid thy sorrows, yet we love thee well, Cling to thy robe of light and trust thee still.

h y s m il e

II— D E A T H T h y kiss is soft, O Death, Upon the lips of those who sink to rest And quiet slumber on thy spacious breast; And drowsy is thy breath.

The lullaby is sweet That thou, fond mother, croonest to thine own, The mournful murmur of its monotone, W ith dreamless calm replete.

When dies this fading light, I ’ll turn, O solemn, kindly Death, to thee; And thou shalt lull me in thine arms to rest.

Thus, through the silent night, I ’ll calmly sleep until eternity Shall usher in the life forever blest.

W i l l i a m H e n r y C r a w s h a w , Colgate ’ 87

414

KEATS I w eet,

m ournful spirit, every thought of thine,

And power, to Beauty’s use was consecrate.

Thou wast her child; and she has made thee great By breathing into thee her spirit fine.

Apostle of the beautiful thou art, T o all mankind, by right of truest love O f all that is most beautiful. Above A ll meaner passions was thy kingly heart.

In fair Italia, under summer skies, Afar from that bleak land which gave thee birth, T h y bed is hollowed in the pregnant earth.

The wandering stars look down with tender eyes, And think of thee; the daisies growing fair, Above thy grave, whisper that thou art there.

II Strange epitaph: “ Here lieth one whose name W as writ on water.” Y et that name to men, While waters flow and ebb and flow again, Shall breathe immortal from the lips of fame.

Thou carest not. T h y priestlike spirit dwells Within the temple beautiful; thy brow, Once pale with death, is lit with glory now, While thy glad song to sweeter music swells.

Thine eyes have gazed on Beauty face to face; Now that thou art forever by her side, T h y longing soul at last is satisfied.

Oh that thou something of her wondrous grace Couldst speak to us, from out the silence vast; Then should we too be satisfied at last.

W i l l i a m H e n r y C r a w s h a w , Colgate ’ 87

415

A D L IC IN IU M (Q . Horat. Flac., Carm., II., 10.) thou thy life wouldst keep, Plough not the ocean wide and deep; Nor, fearing still the wind’s hoarse roar, Drive thy frail bark too near the shore.

The man who seeks the golden mean, Shall wisely choose his course between The squalor of a poor man’s lot And envied halls by wealth begot.

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safely

The winds the towering pines most rock, And lofty towers with deafening shock Fall to the earth; while mountains high The bolted lightning fiercest try.

The heart prepared for either fate, In ill days hopes; in prosperous state Reverses fears. A t Jove’s command Fierce storms now cloak, now leave the land.

Though now awry, be sure of this, Things will not alway go amiss; Apollo soon his silent muse W ill ’rouse; nor winged arrows use. ’Neath fortune’s frown be true and brave While sailing o’er life’s troubled wave; And if thou hast too favoring gales W ilt wisely reef thy swelling sails.

J o se p h E l l s w o r t h C u r r y , Kansas ’ 86

EUM ENES A

j

warrior from the Thracian main, Where Kardia throbbed Athenian blood; When treachery on the Persian plain So basely fought and sought thy death; Then broke the staunchest spear of all The spears in Ammon’s armament; And gathered round thy martial pall, T o honor thee, the gods of Greece.

The fading light of Hellas’ name Thou didst revive with matchless deeds

r a v e

416

Inwrought with noble words of fame.

In struggle stern thy powerful arm Almost rebuilt the stately tower Which ruined fell o’er all the earth, O ’erwhelming lands and seas, the hour A king expired in Babylon.

A friend to all his friends in right Was ne’er more true than thou, true Greek, Perdiccas’ best, who with thy might, Around the Zeus-like monarch’s corse, So many envious lives enlaced T o bind an Empire’s armor on.

T h y soul in all its hours encased A heart full-brimmed with steadfast love.

Unmoved by golden treasures’ gleam; Unstained with wanton revels’ rust; Disturbed by no usurper’s dream; Bright Honor lived beyond thy death And wrote thy virtues on her shield.

Proud peer wert thou of Phillip’s son O r any king on battle-field In Asia, Greece or Macedon.

Athene, virgin goddess bright, The terror of thy Aegis made More terrible in gleaming light O f bold Eumenes’ flashing sword, T h y olive place upon his brow; His panoply in Parthenon; Athenians with his soul endow.

Not his to win at Marathon; Not his to hold Thermopylae, But yet he proud distinction won; And for his name indemnity From faithlessness and gathering scorn O f men he purchased in a life Which e’er with noble purpose firm Led fearlessly through deadly strife T o prove the value of a friend.

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E m e r so n D e n n is o n , Ohio Wesleyan ’ 77

417

TRUTH a hand on the rudder that will not flinch, There’s no fear in the pilot’s face As he guides the worlds, like boats in a storm, Through the rocking seas of space; And whether they make the harbor at last Beyond the shoals and the swell, O r sail forever a shoreless sea, I know that all is well— And I learn these things from the heart of the wood, From the solemn soul of the sea— For never a bird in a wire-bound cage Told all these things to me.

h e r e ’s

And the soul of man is a sunward bird, W ith wings that are made for flight, T o pierce to the fount of the shining day And float through the depths of night; And I read these things in that Bible of God Whose leaves are the spreading sky, And the legible face of the dark green sea, W ith the eye behind the eye.

For truth is not closed in the lids of a book, For its chainless soul is free; And never a bird in a wire-bound cage Told all these things to me.

For truth surges into the open heart And into the willing eye, And streams from the breath of the steaming earth, And drops from the bending sky; ’T is not shut in a book, in a church, or a school, Nor cramped in the chains of a creed, But lives in the open air and the light For all men in their need!

But the fish that swims in a goldfish vase Knows not of the salted sea, And never a bird in a wire-bound cage Told all these things to me. ’T is the voice that comes from the gilded peaks, From the hills that shoulder the sky, 418

Through the topless heights of a man’s own dreams This Voice goes wandering by; And who roams the earth with an open heart, W ith an ear attuned to hear, W ill catch some broken chord of the sound Whenever the Voice comes near, But not past the prison of custom and creed W ill the voice or the vision flee; And never a bird in a wire-bound cage Told all these things to me.

Sa m W

alter

F oss, Brown ’ 82

T H E T O L L B R ID G E K E E P E R £

l i v e here by my tollbridge,

Content, without a want— M y bridge, that joins these mighty states, New Hampshire and Vermont.

The big Connecticut below Among its piers is whirled; I ’m acquainted with the river T hat’s acquainted with the world. “ For it goes winding on and on, Through bowlders, hills and sand, A crinkly silver watch-chain On the jacket of the land.

And though I live here all alone, Within my cottage curled, I ’m acquainted with the river T hat’s acquainted with the world. “ Through maple-sugar orchards, And through the fields of hay, And down through the tobacco farms It winds upon its w ay; And it sleeps in silent meadows When the twilight settles down, Then winds its cool, soft arms around The hot brows of the town. “ The people on the other side— It is their only care 419

T o cross to this, while people here A ll wish to cross to there; And after pondering long, I think That though the world is wide, I am the only man on earth W ho’s wholly satisfied. “ And why should I not be content?

I sit here evermore, While all the world, to humor me, Goes riding by my door.

And when the latest wheel at night Across the bridge is whirled, I ’m acquainted with the river T hat’s acquainted with the world. “ W hy does my river hurry so?

W hat can its errand be ?

And it says: ‘I hear the music, Hear the anthem of the sea.’

‘Stay and talk to me of cities, Where the many thousands be.’

But it says: ‘I feel the magic O f the music of the sea.’ “ W ell I know the truth, my river, That thou sayest unto me, For I, too, have felt the magic O f the music of the sea.

Though I live far in the mountains, Still the stream of life is whirled Toward the mist-enshrouded ocean That encircles all the world.”

Sam W a l t e r Foss, Bro-um ’ 82

T H E M E N W H O MISS T H E T R A IN

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l o a f aroun’ the depo’ jest to see the Pullman scoot,

And to see the people scamper w ’en they hear the engine toot; But w ’at makes the most impression on my som’at active brain, 420

Is the careless men who get there jest in time to miss the train. s

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“ They rush down to the station, with their hair all stood on end, As the platform of the tail-end car goes whirlin’ round the bend; And some men groan an’ cry aloud, an’ some conceal their pain, W ’en they find thet they have got there jest in time to miss the train. “ But the cars puff through the valleys, an’ go a-whirlin’ by, An’ float their banners of w ’ite smoke like flags of victory; They leap the flowin’ rivers, an’ through the tunnels grope, A n ’ cross the Mountain of Despair to the Tableland of Hope. “ The Grand Trunk railroad of success, it runs through every clime, But the cars of Opportunity they go on schedule time; A n ’ never are their brakes reversed— they won’t back up again, T o take the men who get there jest in time to miss the train.”

S a m W a l t e r Foss, Brown ’ 82

A B R A H A M A N D E P H R A IM industriously in his didactic way, And moralized momentously with Ephraim every day, And taught by tale and proverb and by every good de­ vice The virtuousness of virtue and the viciousness of vice.

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s e r m o n iz e d

His hortatory homilies, intended to impress The rightfulness of righteousness, the sin of sinfulness, Were ever hurled at Ephraim throughout the whole year long, That he might rightly comprehend the wrongfulness of wrong. “ A youth can grow up virtuous, if we but pay the price; 421

If we but saturate his soul with showers of advice; If we instill,” said Abraham, “ perpetual truth in him— ” And so in truth perpetually he soaked young Ephraim.

The youth absorbed a sermon every morning ere he ate On the awful reprobation of the awful reprobate; And he swallowed moral theses that were meant to edify, And he masticated maxims with his gingerbread and pie.

And ’twixt breakfast time and dinner the iniquity of sin W as taught to him industriously and patiently rubbed in, The turpidness of turpitude was duly analyzed And the evil of depravity was loudly advertised.

And then right after dinner the enormity of crime And the wrong of immorality was preached till supper time.

Then Abraham would sermonize through all the eve­ ning hours, And drench young Ephraim’s consciousness in moralis­ tic showers.

Thus through cumulative precept did old Abraham de­ sire Accumulative virtue should young Ephraim acquire; He taught him virtue endlessly, and waited long to see How superlatively virtuous young Ephraim would be.

Thus maxim-goaded Ephraim found righteousness a bore, For salve is but an irritant when jammed into a sore; Even bread is innutritious if you resolutely cram An indiscriminate bakery down the bursting dia­ phragm.

Thus by hortatory homilies did Abraham impress T he wrongfulness of righteousness, the good of sinful­ ness; 422

And taught by tale and proverb and by every good de­ vice, The viciousness of virtue and the virtuousness of vice.

Hence, Ephraim lived a reckless life and died a felon’s death, But gave this vindication with his latest dying breath: “ I have been sermonized to death; I die, to speak pre­ cise, An unprotected victim of perpetual advice.”

Sa m W

alter

Foss, Brown ’ 82

HE W O R R IE D A B O U T I T heat will give out in ten million years more,” And he worried about it; “ It will surely give out then, if it doesn’t before,” And he worried about it; It would surely give out, so the scientists said In all scientifical books that he read, And the whole mighty universe then would be dead, And he worried about it.

£

s u n ’s

“ And some day the earth will fall into the sun,” And he worried about it; “ Just as sure, and as straight, as if shot from a gun,” And he worried about it; “ When strong gravitation unbuckles her straps “ Just picture,” he said, “ what a fearful collapse!

It will come in a few million ages, perhaps,” And he worried about it. “ The earth will become much too small for the race,” And he worried about it; “ When we’ll pay thirty dollars an inch for pure space,” And he worried about it; “ The earth will be crowded so much without doubt That there’ll be no room for one’s tongue to stick out, And no room for one’s thoughts to wander about,” And he worried about it.

423

“ The Gulf Stream will curve and New England grow torrider,” And he worried about it; “ Than was ever the climate of southernmost Florida,” And he worried about it; “ The ice crop will be knocked into small smithereens, And crocodiles block up our mowing machines, And we’ll lose our fine crops of potatoes and beans,” And he worried about it. “ And in less than ten thousand years there’s no doubt,” And he worried about it; “ Our supply of lumber and coal will give out,” And he worried about it; “ Just then the Ice Age will return cold and raw, Frozen men will stand stiff with arms outstretched in awe, As if vainly beseeching a general thaw,” And he worried about it.

His wife took in washing (a dollar a day), He didn’t worry about it; His daughter sewed shirts, the rude grocer to pay, He didn’t worry about it, While his wife beat her tireless rub-a-dub-dub On the washboard drum in her old wooden tub, He sat by the stove and he just let her rub, He didn’t worry about it.

Sam W a l t e r Foss, Brown ’ 82

T H E H A M L E T O F HOCUS PO th irty -seco n d day of the th irte e n th m o n th , on the eig h th day of the w eek,

n the

0

On the twenty-fifth hour and the sixty-first minute, we’ll find all things that we seek, They are there in the limbo of Lollipop land, a cloud island and resting in air; On the Nowhere side of the Mountain of Mist, in the Valley of Overthere.

424

On the Nowhere side of the Mountain of Mist, in the Valley of Overthere, On a solid vapor foundation of cloud are palaces grand and fair; And there is where our dreams will come true, and the seeds of our hope will grow, On the thitherward side of the Hills of Hope, in the Hamlet of Hocus Po. On the thitherward side of the Hills of Hope, in the Hamlet of Hocus Po, W e shall see all the things that we want to see, and know all we care to know; For there the old men will never lament, the babies never will squeak, In the Cross-road Corners of Chaosville, in the county of Hideandgoseek.

In the Cross-road Corners of Chaosville, in the county of Hideandgoseek, On the thirty-second day of the thirteenth month, on the eighth day of the week, W e shall do all the things that we please to do, and ac­ complish whatever we try, On the sunset shore of Sometimeorother, by the beautiful Bay of Bimeby.

Sam W a l t e r Foss, Brown ’ 82

N O H O P E F O R E N G L ISH L I T E R A T U R E debatin’ club las’ night we all discussed a cure “ Fer the debilitated state of English lit’rachure,” “ The stuff thet’s writ for folks,” I said, “ don’t move ’em an’ delight ’em, Because the folks who write the things don’t know enough to write ’em.” the

“ The folks who write, they stuff their heads in some big cyclopedy, Which ain’t no place fer mental food to feed the poor an’ needy;

425

T hey’re huntin’ on an em’ty shelf, like poor ol’ Mother Hubbard, A n ’ go right by the open door of Mother Nature’s cup­ board.” “ They crawl into some libery, far from the worl’s in­ spection, Bury themselves in books beyond all hope of resurrec­ tion; They cry out from their tombs, in w ’ich no sun nor star can glisten A n ’ weep because the liv’n’ worl’ don’t fin’ no time to listen.”

Then Elder Pettengell he asked: “ Can you suggest a cure For the debilitated state of English lit’rachure ?” “ Ain’t none; our authors’ ignorance is far too dark for lightin’, While we who know enough to write hain’t got no time for writin’.”

Sam W a l t e r Foss, Brown ’ 82

W IN T E R By a Lawyer lien upon the year Is held by Winter hoar; A mortgage and a heartless lien As told hereinbefore, Bright Summer now is dispossessed, No more her face entrances Gone with her chattels and effects, And her appurtenances. h ea rtless

Yes, Summer gives a quitclaim deed O f all her rosy dower; A well-attested bill of sale O f fountain, fruit and flower— 426

O f all her earthly goods, to w it: Buds, leaves, streams, held by herAnd Winter is appointed heir And sole executor.

Sa m W

alter

Foss, Brown ’ 82

T O W N AND C O U N TR Y

9

the undiscerning earth, The earth it brought forth trees; God also made discerning man, And man made factories; And so the factory and the tree Are parts of nature’s plan; Both man-made mill and earth-made tree Should please the God-made man.

The bobolink’s song and the motorman’s gong Are parts of one refrain; And so is the crash of the cataract, And the rattle of the rain. od m a d e

The cattled hills and the towered town, The wood-path and the alley, The world-thronged streets whose streams are men, And the rivulet-threaded valley— These all are the equal home of the man W ho loves the human brood; The home of the man who loves the world And calls the whole world good.

The robin’s strain in the backwood lane T o this man’s ear is sweet; And so is the rhythmical pulse of the pave W ith its tread of a thousand feet.

He loves to see the pine tree grow And see the warehouse loom, And see the steamboats throng the wharves And see the buckwheat bloom.

For towns grow up beside the streams As oaks grow on the hills, 42 7

And mills spring up like growing corn And homes like daffodils.

The breath of the fields its worship yields, Like prayer it rises high; And the smoke from a thousand chimney-tops Is incense to the sky.

Sam W a l t e r Foss, Brown ’ 82

G R A SSV A L E lay hidden in the hills, in indolent repose, It lay there, like a snowflake in the bosom of a rose.

Against the mountains on the east, the east winds vainly pressed, And the mountains stopped the fury of the storm-burst from the west. rassvale

But the Grassvale people waited for a railroad to come down, And tunnel through the mountains and wind grandly into town; Through the weed-grown streets of Grassvale men would saunter to and fro And tell, how when the railroad came the little town would grow.

Every night to Durkee’s grocery came a crowd of men to talk it W ith big empires in their fancy and two nickels in their pocket; But the cows trod down the dahlias in each housewife’s small front yard, And whole droves of pigs went rooting down the village boulevard.

Every morn the magic sunrise all the eastern hills would streak, And God flung his sunset banner from the topmost west­ ern peak; But moss grew on the houses where no paint had yet ap­ peared, As the face that has no beauty is the first to raise a beard.

428

The chimney of the old Tow n Hall was thrown down by the rain, And they stuck a rusty funnel through the bottom win­ dow pane; A t the Baptist Church the steeple blew off one tempes­ tuous day, And they left it as a rendezvous where hens could go and lay.

The great dream of the railroad banished their uneasy fears, Although they had a suit of clothes but once in thirteen years; For they reasoned when the railroad should come wind­ ing down their way They should have a pair of trousers almost every other day.

And we all wait for our railroad, while our front yards grow with thistle, Lie and listen in our valley for the locomotive’s whistle; Yes, we build up mighty railroads in our superheated brain, While we ought to climb our mountains and just foot it to the train.

Sa m W a l t e r Foss, Brown ’ 82

TH E TRUM PETS r*

were calling me over the hill, And I was a boy and knew nothing of men; But they filled all the vale with their clangorous thrill, And flooded the gloom of the glen. h e trum pets

“ The trumpets,” I cried, “ Lo, they call from afar, They are mingled with music of bugle and drum; The trumpets, the trumpets are calling to war, The trumpets are calling— I come.”

The trumpets were calling me over the Range, And I was a youth and was strong for the strife; And I was full fain for the new and the strange, And mad for the tumult of life.

429

And I heard the loud trumpets that blew for the fray, In the spell of their magic and madness was dumb; And I said, “ I will follow by night and by day, The trumpets are calling— I come.”

The trumpets were calling and I was a man, And had faced the stern world and grown strong; And the trumpets were calling far off and I ran Toward the blare of their mystical song.

And they led me o’er mountains, ’neath alien skies, All else but their music was dumb; And I ran till I fell, and slept but to rise, Lo, the trumpets are calling— I come.

The trumpets are calling, I ’ve come to the sea, But far out in the moon-lighted glow, I still hear the trumpets, they’re calling to me, The trumpets are calling— I go.

And lo, a strange boatman is here with his bark, And betakes me and rows away, silent and dumb; But my trumpets! M y trumpets! they peal through the dark, The trumpets are calling— I come.

Sam W a l t e r Foss, Brown ’ 82 (B y permission o f Lathrop, Lee and Shepard, owners of the copyright)

W H E N C L A R IB E L SINGS

0

told how, when Orpheus sang, T he hills and the dales with melody rang; From afar the animals came in flocks, And the strains moved even the trees and rocks— When Orpheus sang. vid h a s

When the modern maiden Claribel sings, As in olden times the melody rings, And the hearers hasten as fast as they may; But, alas, they hasten the other way When Claribel sings.

C l y d e B o w m a n F u r s t, Dickinson ’ 93 430

F O R T Y ’S R O M A N C E iv e

ME no lyric melody,

No nymph or shepherd’s roundelay; The time has passed for youthful play— Full-chested song now let it be.

The stinging kiss, the aching heart Belong to youth, they have their place; Without fair hair and blooming face This earth would lose a wondrous part.

But I would live within the strife Where strong men fight and weaklings fall; Where to the hero God gives all And where to win means more than life.

Brave hearts, clear eyes and surging blood Are weapons without which we fail; Give me the fight, I will not quail— But meet the shock and breast the flood.

J o h n G i r d l e r , Colorado ’ 07

T W O SONGS I A n O ld Italian Air Y h a n d s went over the strings, and a strain from the

years long over Woke to their quickening touch, like the pulse of an olden pain, And I saw the sun on the uplands, I heard the bees in the clover, The sound of the running water, the pipe of the far-off plover, As I saw and heard in a summer that never will come again.

The ghost of a hope re-arisen, the dream of a firstlove slain,

431

Came through the twilight grey, where the circling sea-birds hover, As, with touches that woke the sound of a song I sang in vain, M y hands went over the strings.

Something of youth’s lost gladness thrilled out in the answering strain, I heard a voice on the silence like the whisper of April rain, I caught the glimmer of eyes that the churchyard grasses cover, As under the golden starlight, by the waves of God’s murmuring main, For the last, last time, my Love, in the life of your girlhood’s lover, M y hands went over the strings.

II In Harbor W e have flung the oars ashore and the voyage is ended, W e have anchored the boat, to toss on the tide no more— Blown into the port at last, by the winds of God befriended, W e have flung the oars ashore.

Far from the cruel storm-wreck, far from the break­ er’s roar, W e rest in the long-sought haven, from the angry sea defended.

W e have found the peace of the waters fate’s wind never wandered o’er.

Ah, w ell! but the seas were grand and the skies were splendid As we watched the waves run white and the rain and lightning pour; Farewell now to the waves and the waters through which we wended, W e have flung the oars ashore!

J a m e s L i n d s a y G o r d o n , Virginia ’78

432

WHEELER A T SANTIAGO i n t o t h e thick of the fight he went, pallid and sick and wan, Borne in an ambulance to the front, a ghostly wisp of a man; But the fighting soul of a fighting man, approved in the long ago, W ent to the front in that ambulance and the body of Fight­ ing Joe. Out from the front they were coming back, smitten of Span­ ish shells— Wounded boys from the Vermont hills and the Alabama dells; “ Put them into this ambulance; I ’ll ride to the front,” he said; And he climbed to the saddle and rode right on, that little old ex-Confed.

From end to end of the long blue ranks rose up the ringing cheers, And many a powder-blackened face was furrowed with sud­ den tears, As with flashing eyes and gleaming sword, and hair and beard of snow, Into the hell of shot and shell rode little old Fighting Joe! Sick with fever and racked with pain, he could not stay away, For he heard the song of yester-years in the deep-mouthed cannon’s bay— He heard in the calling song of the guns there was work for him to do, Where his country’s best blood splashed and flowed ’round the old Red, White and Blue.

Fevered body and hero heart! This Union’s heart to you Beats out in love and reverence— and to each dear boy in blue Who stood or fell ’mid the shot and shell, and cheered in the face of the foe, As wan and white, to the heart of the fight rode little old Fighting Joe! J a m e s L i n d s a y G o r d o n , Virginia ’78

433

R E A D IN G H O M E R it h eager

eyes a n d h e a rt athrob a t cheek,

One sits with olive crowned and swiftly reads From out an unrolled parchment golden deeds,— The magic measures of the godlike Greek.

The gleaming Parian pavement no more moves Than that still group whose souls hark in their eyes; One, chin on hand, rapt on the marble lies, And one the finger holds of her he loves.

Beyond the columns shines the turquoise sea, Snow-flecked with sails on the horizon’s rim ; And in the sky no faintest cloud to dim The day’s bright, silent summer mystery.

H ow tells the tale? Does golden Helen smile?

Dies doomed Hector by T ro y’s towered wall?

O r lies Witch Circe in her palace tall, W ith sorcery sweet The Wanderer to beguile?

W

il l ia m

L u c iu s G ra ves , Ohio State *93

A SO N G F O R SU M M E R is on the clover that the bees are humming over, And clear across the silence blows the robin’s piping cry; And oh! the heart within me is an idle errant rover, Awaiting in the shadows till my love goes by.

HE

dew

I dream that I would follow with the slanting summer swallow Across the windy spaces of the sunny morning sky; But oh! I ’d be returning to this little dusky hollow, T o throw a kiss in greeting when my love goes by.

Be still, for she is nearing, it is her voice I ’m hearing,— Now wind among the beeches, breathe but a fainting sigh; And, heart within my bosom, leap up at her appearing, And beat to her young singing as my love goes by!

W

il l ia m

L u c iu s G ra ves , Ohio State ’93

434

W IT H M IL E S B E T W E E N /

a d , w h en th e m iles are betw een us

• J°y*samoc^tome>

Never a green lane is lovely,— You are not here to see.

Smoke trails up in the dawning, White is the blossomed thorn, Out of the twilight tremble The friendly stars are born.

Beauty beckons me vainly, Empty the world and wan.

How do you think I can smile when Half o’ my heart is gone ?

Waking, I follow and follow Ways that we used to pass, Dreaming again I am with you Buried in summer grass.

Then, at the day of your coming, A h ! How the world is new!

Never breathed winds so sweetly, Never was sky so blue!

Out of the march the redwing Bubbles in ecstacy sheer; See! I am smiling and smiling,— All o’ my heart is here!

W i l l i a m L u c i u s G r a v e s , Ohio State *

SIX S O N N E T S I . GOOD-BYE

> < rr>

.

i w a s midnight, and the moon from overhead, Upon their mingling locks fell full adown, No lengthening shadows casting; thus their crov O f love and beat of happy life were dead And lost to all the outer world; they fed

435

On their own looks and lips; the fret and frown O f else beside touched not the blue and brown O f those fond eyes; they stood alone, and read The pledges of each other’s gentle soul, Without a word to break the silence sweet.

No shadow ’neath their feet, none in their heart, All light above;— yet, o’er their eyes there stole A mist of tender sadness: one heart-beat, One last, long press of lips: alas! to part!

2 . YEARS

An absence long; a long time separate.

I do not know if it will prove you well T o linger thus apart; I cannot tell If you should tempt and try the mood of Fate; She may grow adverse, if you trifle late.

But this I know: W ith some months gone, the knell O f Discord rang atween their hearts, and fell A-jangling on their judgment; each one sate Apart, and thought the other cold, with blame The most; both loved, but both were very proud; Both wished for reconciliation, yet Which one should bear the wrong, and noble name Themself the wrongest— ah! there was a cloud Hung there to veil the right and rain regret.

3 . T H E P IC T U R E

Midnight again. What holds the student so To-night? Is it a text abstruse and dark?

Aye, aye! it is a lesson hard! Oh, mark How deep he studies it; and he will know, Down in his soul, that lesson ere he go T o rest.— Ah, ha! a picture! Oh, the spark O f life looks almost from those eyes! The bark O f his life should be steered by them, I trow.

Look at it long, nor let one feature ’scape; Put it into thy brain; imprint it there; Devour it with thine eyes— its every shape And line, and light, and look; the very hair Tw ine thou about thy fooling heart; from sight Now seal the thing away. Poor fool! good night.

43 6

4 « HOMEW ARD

Years passed away, but no reunion brought.

Years passed?— Yea, weary years, and very long.

And they?— They still bore in their lives the wrong, When but a word could peace ’twixt them have wro’t So easily; but the word, though often thought, Was never spoken. She could not loose the thong, He would not do it. So the gentle song Was bound up in their hearts— poor hearts so fraught T o almost bursting— and did not pass their lips.

A t last, from wand’rings far, he homeward turned, Heart sore unto the very core. He yearned T o burst the darkness of this pain’s eclipse.

Almost at home! His heart heaved warm its tide.

And she?— Three months had been another’s bride.

5. TH E W ANDERER

Westward he fled, nor said to aught good-bye; O ’er the great stream that cuts the continent In twain; o’er plains and heights, with no intent; Speed in his limbs, delirium in his eye; No stop, no rest— ah! rest would make rest fly; Through day, through night, till, body-sore and spent, He dropped upon the kindly moss that lent Him its best bed— his blanket but the sky.

Years thus; always away— away from all That could give thought of her; no stay, no rest, Save when th’ unconscious frame exhausted sank In dreamless sleep to mend itself, and call Forth strength to further fly. A t last— ’twas best— The poor grayed head lay by the River’s bank.

6 . A T LAST

“ Ah, will she come, you think? If she but knew— If she but knew. Think you she’ll come? So long!

Yes, yes, I ’d know her— will she come ?” The throng Stood ’way. ’Tw as she, in black. The crystal dew Hung from her long dark lashes. His poor blue Eyes looked up in a mute appeal. The wrong Was banished, and upon his breast, once strong, Now wasted ’way, her own sad heart she threw. “ At last! O , Love, put thy sweet lips upon

437

Mine own once more. I cannot drink new breath From them, but they will sweeten th’ end.

Ah! fair Like lilies yet thy brow. Some wrinkles Won From all these years.— Once more.— Art jealous.

Death?

A t last!— Alas she was twice widow there.

L a f a y e t t e R u p e r t H a m b e r l i n , Richmond ’ 92

SH AK SPER E of thought, of hope, of memory— What chord of these hast thou not struck upon ?

What beauty of the pearly-trembling dawn, W hat sigh, as day bends down to blushing sea, Hast thou not framed in amber’s crystalry?

What joy that comes, though quick perhaps is gone, Hast thou not imaged ? W hat aroma drawn From flowers, but thou hast, in thy minstrelsy, Sung words as sweet to mate that fragrant breath ?

Knows life a pain or joy? Knows memory A fair-browed day? Has hope a dreaming bright?

True pain art thou, true joy; thou’rt life, thou’rt death; Thou’rt memory and hope,— most real to me: A thousand-hearted vision set in light.

F

se n se ,

L a f a y e t t e R u p e r t H a m b e r l i n , Richmond ’ 92

TEN N YSO N I never knew; but, looking on T he poet’s page before me, so me seems I peer into the healthful summer dawn That glorified thy soul of manful dreams;

hy fa c e

Where, to the cadence of the rhythmic air, T h y spirit moved upon the hills of fame, Chanting a flight no other’s voice could share— So full of earth, and yet so free of blame.

O Minstrel, ’round our hearts love weaves thy song, Its music warping onewise, soothing-twined,

438

Its thought-threads woofing through the music strong— A mesh to lift and gladden humankind.

L a f a y e t t e R u p e r t H a m b e r l i n , Richmond ’ 92

L O V E ’S R E T U R N h

, L o v e has come back on the breath of the Spring,

Arrayed in Spring’s roses— a beautiful thing.

He died but to live again, fair as before, Filling my life with the feelings of yore.

I welcome thee, Love; come and dwell in my breast, There is room for thy frolic and room for thy rest; Be ruler, thou Mad Cap, I own thy dominion,— But nevermore leave me with anger-plumed pinion; For anger is death to the heart and the will, And death is so cold and so sad and so still.

I will not offend, be thou not offended; Let’s live now in peace till mortality’s ended.

L a f a y e t t e R u p e r t H a m b e r l i n , Richmond ’ 92

“ A C O L L E C T I O N O F D E A T H -M A S K S ” i

h a v e been looking at this group of m asks,

These death-masks, shaped in white and stiffened clay: The maker of the poem and the play, The framer of quaint humor’s genial tasks, The preacher, painter, ploughman, savant, king,— Set forth in plaster, moulded after death.

I turn away, and, stifling, catch my breath, And ’round dear life my loving arms I fling.

Disease and waste: the pallid, sunken cheek; The line of weary pain; the hollow eye; The close-drawn lip,— aye, bones and death, they stare.

When my dead face you cast, all pale and meek And still, beneath the mask pray let it lie, That memory may living features wear.

L

afayette

R u p e r t H a m b e r l i n , Richmond *92

439

W INTER year

has fled,

And over hill and vale The wintry snows have fallen thick and fast; The flowers lie dead, And springs and streamlets fail; And bare gray boughs bend to the whistling blast.

And yet, deep down within its frozen bed, The fast-imprisoned germ of life is laid; And but awaits the sunny smiles of spring T o break its icy bonds, and let it bring Both bud and leaf from seed wherein each lies: As phoenixes from their dead ashes rise.

A life has fled, And, o’er a wrinkled brow, The snows of age have silvered raven locks; Life’s joys are dead, The heart, so frozen now, Scarce feels Death’s awful summons when he knocks.

But lo! the Master smiles, and forth there flies, Upborne on airy pinions to the skies, A soul immortal from that lifeless clay; Re-born to dwell in “ realms of endless day.”

J a m e s C o l e m a n H a r w o o d , Richmond ’ 92

T H IS D A Y

•TV U C d U l, it g lC 4 1 1 1 , A g l U W

light,

O r cloud and mystery?

This day,— ’tis what I am,— A tear, a cheer, a wrong, a right— For all eternity.

W

il l ia m

S u m n e r H a r w o o d , Iowa ’ 85

440

THE BEST would friendship test,— its grip and power, Needs not the stern alembic of the mind, Nor scales whereon the world’s fine gold is weighed, Nor yet the subtile standard of fair speech: He who would friendship test, a friend must be.

E

w ho

W

il l ia m

S u m n e r H a r w o o d , Iowa ’ 85

TH E LO VE SET knee deep about my heart tonight.

High on my wall by tufted ribbon bound, Hangs such a simple thing to break one’s heart, ’T is but a tennis racket, battle scarred.

And yet it broke my heart one Summer day.

She held it in her hand, and held heart too— My heart: it beat so true to her warm pulse.

Did not her sweet fair eyes speak love to love?

Were not her lips a-dew with love’s fair words?

And yet, ah me, she won that last, love set: The snow’s knee deep about my heart tonight. h e s n o w ’s

W

il l ia m

S u m n e r H a r w o o d , Iowa ’ 85

A M EM ORY OF TH E BALL £

Es, t h a t is the programme we used in our dancing, One evening last spring, at the social club ball— A dust-stained reminder of waltzes entrancing, The grand march, the schottische, the polka and all.

The long silken string and tassel depending, And rose-tinted card-board with gilding begirt (The latter much torn by promiscuous bending) Are soiled by much handling and gathering dirt.

And here, in plain print, are the names of the measures, While there, in their varied hand-writing, you see The names of the ladies who shared in the pleasures O f dancing the waltzes and polkas with me.

441

There’s Ethel and Carrie and Helen and Florence And Flotie and Nora and Ethel again; Then Carrie— a blank— ah, the rain fell in torrents, W e lingered, I kissed her— it must have been then.

Then Flora and Blanche and Miss Justin— how proper That seems by the side of the names I have read.

She’s rich, but I swear, if she had every copper, I ’d take any one of the others instead.

There’s Ethel again— that’s the third of our dances— And Carrie again— that’s the third time with her— And Florence— that’s twice that her pretty name chances On this dirty programme of mine to occur.

Then follows a waltz with the frigid Miss Kember; Then Ethel and Carrie— that’s four times for each— ’Tw as difficult choosing— that well I remember, For each was as fresh and as fair as a peach.

But Carrie came last, for I scarcely could stifle T he longing I had for another sweet kiss; I got it; it cracked like a Winchester rifle And I made on the programme a symbol like this *.

O sm a n C a st l e H o o p e r , Denison ’ 79

SEPTEM BER you seen the pretty fairy, W alking with a manner airy Through the earth, Gilding vines on hut and castle, Lingering where the corn-stalk’s tassel Nods in mirth? ave

She’s a dainty little creature, Fair in form and every feature; Shaded blue Is the dress her form adorning— ’T is a glory of the morning, Sprent with dew.

442

Silvery Luna’s beams her hair is, And within her hand she carries Golden-rod, Touching with it fruits by magic, While the leaves in ending tragic Strew the sod.

O s m a n C a s t l e H o o p e r , Denison ’ 79

M U SIN G

W

E m u s e , my fire and I.

Dim-lighted on the grate, It turns A reminiscent face toward me, And burns. “ While I, warmed by old-time, Look kindly in the blaze, Feel young, And revel in a love as yet Unsung. “ W e muse, my fire and I, Pale ashes on the hearth Grow old— And Love, illusion of an hour, Lies cold.”

Ralph W

elles

K

eeler,

Wesleyan ’ 04

“ Ernest Stewart Malcolm”

A N IG H T IN N O R S E L A N D

T

>

o w n by

th e riv er

Where the dark reeds shiver, And gaunt shadows tremble so wildly and quiver, W ith water drop streaming From tresses gold-gleaming, Sweet the Stromkarl sings in the moon’s clear beaming.

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Love’s vigil he’s keeping, O ’er the Lurley sleeping In the lily’s cup cradled, with rare odors steeping, His song, low trilling, W ith love is thrilling, In her dream sweet passion and longing instilling.

Where the wood all still is And sweet with lilies, And odor of pines, and the purl of the rill is Softer than singing, The fairies are ringing Eery chimes, from the bells on the hyacinths swinging.

Yon red torch glaring, O ’er black brows flaring, Gleams from the bark of the viking unsparing.

The wind is wailing, T hro’ the dark sailing; ’T is but a love-song to a heart as unquailing.

By the blue water A chieftain’s daughter Is waiting, heart-eager, for a tryst with her lover; The oar’s quick throbbing, Blent with the sobbing O f wavelets, now whispers the waiting is over.

And now he has found her; His arms are around her, And close to his heart they have clasped and bound her.

What rapture and gladness, W hat joy and madness Thrill his heart, so unthralled of sorrow or sadness.

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hom as

D a b n e y M a r s h a l l , Mississippi ’ 82

THE TR YST I h r o u g h the meadow-blossom sweet, Flit a maiden’s glancing feet; O ’er her path the wild-flowers lean, On whose cheeks gay glints the sheen

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The sun sheds, who, with eager lips, From their cups the sweet dew sips.

O ’er the woodland and the wold, Trail the morning’s robes of gold; But the tress of silken hair Straying o’er her brow so fair, Has a soft and tender glow Morning’s robes can never show.

On yon mullein-stalk, a-tilt, A ll whose dews he now has spilt, A little bird, with fluttering wings, Blithely rocks and blithely sings.

In the sky the clouds, a-dream, Float, like lilies on a stream That with foamy, moist lips croons A ll day long its cheery tunes.

But her heart’s so full of love That neither brook, nor cloud above, Nor flowret’s sheen, nor birdling’s trill, Nor meadows green, nor wooded hill, Can win one glance, however fleet; Nor one moment stay her feet, Dancing to the meadow gates, Where her eager lover waits.

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hom as

D abney M

ar sh all,

Mississippi ’ 82

P E R SE PH O N E

e

there never a dream to thee O f the lilies ablow in Sicily’s dale, O maid, in thy home where sad shadows be? com es

The Tritons still plunge in the bright, broad sea, The Nereids dance on the wet sands pale, O comes there never a dream to thee?

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Ne’er hearest the hum of the gold-girt bee As he rifles the buds in the sun-kissed vale, O maid, in thy home where sad shadows be ?

Still the nightingale sings in the myrtle tree, And Enna is loud with her musical wail, O comes there never a dream to thee?

The fleet footed nymphs from the fierce fauns flee: Can’st hear the fall of their fair feet frail, O maid, in thy home where sad shadows be ?

The river gods laugh with their old-time glee, And the pipings of Pan the shepherds regale; But comes there never a dream to thee, O maid, in thy home where dark shadows be?

T

D abney M

hom as

arsh all,

Mississippi ’ 82

T R IO L E T S

I T H E K IS S

maiden was fair— Wkr lips they were rosy, And love is a snare!

The maiden was fair, Ah, kisses are rare, And her mouth ’twas a posy.

The maiden was fair And her lips they were rosy.

S

II A W IT H E R E D F L O W E R E T

Its beauty is shed, But its odor still lingers; M y darling is dead!

Its beauty is shed, But ’twas twirled in her fingers, When wildest love plead; Its beauty is shed But its odor still lingers.

T

hom as

D abney M 446

arsh all,

* Mississippi ’ 82

T R IO L E T S A BIT OF HAIR nly

A tin y bit of h air,

Silkily soft and sheenily golden, Kissing a girl’s face, angel-fair.

Only a tiny bit of hair— Y et the strongest, dearest snare In which men’s hearts are trapped and holden— Only a tiny bit of hair, Silkily soft and sheenily golden.

A WITCHING MAID

A witching maid, with eyes of blue, The captive heart with passion thrilling— ’T is vain you for sweet pity sue A witching maid, with eyes of blue.

Come, dear boy, be brave and true, And quaff this wine of Love’s distilling, A witching maid, with eyes of blue, The captive heart with passion thrilling.

THE HAND

Only the merest, fleetest squeeze From a dainty, dimpled hand, Swaying the heart as the moon the seas; Only the merest, fleetest squeeze— Ah, me! ah, me! ’twould bring to his knees The proudest prince in all the land— Only the merest, fleetest squeeze From a daintily dimpled hand.

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hom as

D a b n e y M a r s h a l l , Mississippi ’ 82

T O M Y O L D R O O M -M A T E T o Mac S. Wylie, Monmouth ’ 75

/

V e o f t e n thought, m y honest friend,

That life is what we make it, And whether fate will smile or frown Depends on how we take it.

447

From out the fount of common things There flows a constant pleasure; And gladness bubbles from the ground In over-flowing measure.

And Oh! how much of purest joy Lies round about us ever; And all we have to do is just T o press upon the lever.

W hy should the rosy years be filled W ith sighing and complaining?

The soil is always better tilled Without excess of raining.

And sure it is men often lose T he blessedness of living; And cloud the future of their lives By their continued grieving.

Life has a golden vein for all, If we but rightly mine it; Then let us seek the precious ore And labor to refine it.

W hy should the jeweled harp of life Give forth its sad pulsations, When every string is tuned to yield Such heavenly vibrations?

W hy should we shut and bolt the door W ith angels at the portal, And close forever from our hearts The smiles of the immortal?

Life has its gloomy times we know,â&#x20AC;&#x201D; There are a thousand reasons W hy earth, amid her laughing years, Should have her wintery seasons.

But why should winter always last, When man retains the power 448

T o brush the snowflakes from the soul And plant the summer flower?

O , let us smile our years away, And quaff their sweetest nectar; And not be seeking here and there For some illusive spectre.

But while we live and love in life, Receiving joy and giving; Let us remember evermore The nobler end of living; The higher state, the purer hope, T o live at peace forgiven; And have our life united to That better Life in heaven.

D a v id R e e d M i l l e r , Monmouth ’ 74

O N A SIL V E R C U P , S E N T A L I T T L E N A M E S A K E

P

in thy grasp, an empty cup; ^k^JGo forth, O young world-rover!

The Hebe years shall fill it up, A joy-cup, running over.

O . (not identified) i f e ’s

A T W ORK E e d it o r sits in his whirligig chair,

v/ith his feet on the desk and his hands in his hair, And his eyes are fixed in a pale-green glare On a spot overhead, in the ceiling.

Now, there isn’t a sign of a thing to be seen, In the place where he looks, or the air between; Still, the editor isn’t a fool, I ween, As he steadily stares at the ceiling.

For it may be a minute, or it may be ten, But the editor soon will smile again, And turn with glee to his writing— when He’s dug out a joke from the ceiling.

O . (not identified)

449

OUR YO U TH once more into the fire they go W ith their dreamed and their undreamed deeds of the coming years Put to the chance of a shell or a bayonet’s blow— W ith a smile in their eyes made bright by a touch of tears, And a laugh on their lips they have gone to meet our foe! nce m ore,

Once more the flag that they love floats proudly on ahead Which never on land or sea has known defeat And the voices that rise from the unforgotten dead Sing the great song that lifts at the marching feet That it ever has flung its fold where Freedom led!

Today they fight for a freedom newly born, For the earth is weary of kings and the spawn of kings, And out of the throes of a world with anguish torn Shall rise a peace no glory of conquest brings, Like the peace that came to the earth on Christmas morn.

For this they fight and not for an inch of land O r the dollars wrung from a foe by the cards of state!

Thank God he has placed at our helm a steadfast hand And an eye that can look unmoved on the face of Fate And a will that can dare and a heart that can understand!

He has sent our best to the world’s last great crusade, They shall not come back till the world at last is free!

For the Old World calls to the New, and, unafraid, Our youth go forth to their fame and their agony, For God will judge in the end, and His price be paid!

A r t h u r H obson Q u i n n , Pennsylvania ’94

SON NET W ritten on the fly-lea f o f M iss Preston’s translation o f V ir g il’s Georgies.

up a t the stars a n d th in k , good sooth, How near they bring us to how far a past!

Upon Aeneas yon Orion cast His warlike glance; to-night’s moon shone on Ruth.

E

W

look

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So, in the poets of our world’s youth, How fresh their lines that speak of breeze and blast, Fields, flocks, rains, springtime— all the myriad vast On-goings of a law still young! Their truth Here truest seeming, where from English verse, W rit yesterday, old Virgil’s smile outpeers, Benignant, wise, home-bred, whose radiance stirs The warm blood still, across— why count the years?

New England, sure not Latium, was his nurse, And this his priestess does not read, but hears!

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il l is

O scar R o b b , Ohio Wesleyan ’ 79

P R IS C IL L A (W ith an en gravin g o f Boughton’s picture.)

demure, whose eager feet now press In Mercy’s wake across the Plymouth snow, Small thought hast thou, swift flitting to and fro, That, watching, men shall love, as well as bless.

Yet, it shall be, a warrior shall confess, And, though confessing not, another know How Love began with thee to come and go That first grim winter in the wilderness.

A poem— picture ? Nay, a parable: For so are we, when treading wintry ways With gray-robed Duty, all as blind as thou; Else should we see (what thousand signs foretell) That snows to mayflowers turn in summer days— That Love shall lead us then as Duty now.

H,

m a id

W

il l is

O scar R o b b , Ohio Wesleyan ’ 79

W H E R E B U N D Y H E L D T H E PAR IS R O A D Bundy held the Paris Road, The morning battle flamed and flowed. “ The Marne is passed; the line is bent!

Heaven speed our succor, heaven-sent!”

And Europe gazed with eyes that glowed Where Bundy held the Paris Road. here

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451

The Patient Frenchman counseled, “ Wait!

The Hun but hurries to his fate, It was but now the battle broke— Tomorrow— and the counterstroke!”

But pale the star of patience showed, Where Bundy held the Paris Road.

Said Bundy to the High Command: “ None of our men would understand!

The Stars and Stripes are driven back?

Impossible! W e shall attack!”

And forward line on line they strode, Where Bundy held the Paris Road.

And when night brought the long day’s end, The dead that filled the river-bend W ere German dead. And Europe knew!

And Freedom all her bugles blew.

And once more French the river flowed Where Bundy held the Paris Road!

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il l is

O sc a r R o b b , Ohio Wesleyan ’ 79

(Featuring Gen. Omar Bundy, DePauw ’81.)

TH E LO ST ANGEL T

daw n

one m o rn in g , in a hoary w ood,

A youth walked, waiting for the day, W ho raised his musing eyes, and lo! there stood An angel in the way; A form of splendor, whose seraphic face Eternal, regnant calm expressed; And in the mighty eyes there dwelt a gaze As of a god at rest.

A kingly gesture drew the youth aside T o where an open circle spread, Ringed by the trees; grass-grown it was, and wide; The sky was overhead.

And it was dawn: the gray east rosy grew W ith coming day; the morning breeze 452

Among the waving branches fresher blew; The birds sang in the trees.

But as they stepped within the open space, The angel looked up; thereupon The morning vanished: at that lifted face, Sky, breeze, and birds were gone.

And lo! on high a golden roof was hung, Dome-wise, all set with jewels fair; And round about, tall, flaming columns sprung T o meet it in the air.

Beneath their feet a floor of lucent stone Swept to the columns’ glowing round; Midway thereon a high uplifted throne Leaped from the marble ground.

A lighted altar at its base exhaled Thick incense-clouds, that, floating high, Rolled through the vault; and the great throne was veiled In white obscurity.

Through the vast dome the moving angel led The youth in silence to the shrine; A moment waited there, with back-thrown head,— Then, from the lips divine, A song burst— such a song as never yet On realms of air or ether pealed.

Far round the place, and to the roof, gem-set, The mighty music thrilled In awful joy; upon its tide upborne The list’ning youth straightway forgot The vanished day; if it were night or morn, He knew, remembered, not.

He only knew that still the sweet perfume Streamed upward to that hidden throne— That still there surged through all the vaulted room That heaving sea of tone.

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Long so they stood. The ever-changing song Now softer grew, now mounted higher; T he unresisting youth was swept along On the swift stream of fire.

Then, sudden as the lightning spans the sky, The angel stopped in mid career.

The mad youth felt the vision flee his eye, T he song die in his ear, And, shrieking, fellâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; in the long, dreamless swoon That sweeps about the gates of death.. . .

But at the last revived, with feeble moan, And long-drawn, quivering breath.

Gone was the temple, with its roof of gold, High throne, and smoking altar-fire; And fled the angel, whose loud song had rolled But now on the thrilled air.

Far overhead the sky of morning glowed, Blue with the pigment of the dawn.

Still played the breezes through the spreading wood, And still the birds sang on.

But what to him was song of thrush or lark, Whose ears with that great paean rung?

And bluest skies, though sunlit, showed but dark, Where that fair dome had hung.

Long on the grass in weakness he reclined, Then rose, and through the forest crossed A ll mazedly, if haply he might find The glory he had lost.

Vain search! No trace in earth or air abode O f the lost angel or his song.

The youth, all faint with wandering in the wood, Wept as he passed along.

A t last, strayed back into the open round, Sick with despairing grief and pain, He threw himself upon the swarded ground, T o dream the song again.

454

But lo! the morning wind, that round him stirred, The fevered vision kept away.

No trumpet-voice rewoke; he only heard The birds sing, “ It is day.”

And swift apace through all his senses stole The spirit of the summer morn,— Dropped cooling dews in his reviving soul, No longer now forlorn; So that he cried, “ Lo! now, I will forbear T o mourn henceforth my gilded dream, Content to breathe again this living air And see yon morning gleam.”

And rose, and went his w ay; and nevermore Made murmur for the vision fled.

W hat though the pageantry indeed were o’er?

Blue day was overhead.

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il l is

O scar R o b b , Ohio Wesleyan ’

ST. U RBAN ( Modern— U ncanonized.) nor credo he repeats, Nor makes response from stall or pew; His temple-aisles are city streets— His rubric, whatsoe’er men do.

or p r a y e r

He loves this world— dwells in its tents And lives its life; to him most dear Its joys, its griefs, its blandishments, Its peace and strife, its hope and fear.

The sway of supernatural law He cannot feel— doubts, not denies; And for an honest life would draw No dreadful sanction from the skies.

A very pagan to the church, A stumbling-block to many weak—

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Y et vain forever is their search W ho in his life offenses seek.

Serene, pure-hearted, steadfast, strong Alike to do or leave undone— As keen a judge ’twixt right and wrong As any underneath the sun— Behind his calm brown eyes men read An upright life and free from taint, And quicker trust, in doubt or need, Than gravest priest this worldling saint.

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il l is

O sc a r R o b b , Ohio Wesleyan ’ 79

ST. U RBAN (Still Uncanonized.) t.

U r b a n , he w h o spurned all creed,

W ho left God’s temples only to the weak, Whose human soul ne’er knew a need, Nor higher voice than own did seek, Asked, in a dream: “ On whom relied?

In whom his faith? And who is greater? ” “ Self-made am I,” he quick replied, “ And always worship my creator.”

J o h n I c h a b o d C o v in g t o n , Miami ’ 70

T H E L IG H T

j .5 l i n i n g 111 l i i c L w u i g i i i z>r±y,

Effulgent breaks the sparkling morn; It is the day, and hope is nigh, And youth looks upward to the light; He feels the warmth, the thrill, the love, And journeys forth— for love is might— While clear the light gleams from above.

456

So in the heat of noontide hour All sultry with ambition’s glow, And conscious of light-given power W e fight the fight with blow on blow.

May we be worthy of that fight, May we be cavaliers of love W ith eyes fixed ever on the light That leads us on, that gleams above.

And as the shadows lay their deeps Beneath the twilight in the west, Some lingering ray of sunlight leaps Across the dim horizon’s crest; May we look up and see that light And know its ray will trail the morn Across horizons, through the night T o dawn more glorious, day new-born.

K

enneth

W

h it n e y

R o g ers , Syracuse ’ 17

O L D C A M B R ID G E T O W N : m e l l o w i n g mists of eventide

vjriow o’er that distant, low-spread town, Where linger still on every side The landmarks speaking fair renown Won in the nation’s youthful days By stalwart sons of liberty; An heirloom, sacred, sibylline— Teaching the future by its ancient sign.

W i l b u r H e n r y S i e b e r t , Ohio State ’ 88

T O COLUM BUS I >u pilot to a new world across “ the shadowy sea! ” x nou benefactor of a race as large as human kind!

Though lacking all that hidden gold which there thou thoughtest free, The wealth thou didst discover made an epoch for the

mind.

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II W hat matter all the trials, if the human thought be loosed T o sail away across the deep and see a nobler realm: That life’s a loss whose field of view is to a plot re­ duced, When nature here provides us with a sea and with a helm.

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H e n r y S i e b e r t , Ohio State ’ 88

il b u r

A T H E N IA N E P IG R A M

W

mind to justice sways a passionate heart, He shall prevail in battle, love and art; Not without storm, but steadied in restraint, Heart and mind wed, fight thou, or woo, or paint!

h o se

A rth ur W

h eelock

U p s o n , Minnesota ’98

L IF E stars bedeck the azure sky, One moon, as queen, reigns full supreme on high.

Night is the season, from creation’s birth, When mellow beams, and gold, o’erspread the earth.

A thousand thoughts withal his mind possessed, One love, divine, reigns queen of all the rest.

Life is the season by God willed to be A union of their love for all eternity. th o u san d

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il l ia m

T

urner

W

hedon,

T H E SEASONS A Liebeslied 1. SPRING

W

W inter’s icy bands unclasp, And frost and snows no more are seenWhen Nature, once more glad and gay, Comes forth, bedecked in living greenWhen Spring, in every opening bud, hen

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Michigan ’ 81

Breathes ’round a fragrance everywhere, And warblers back from winter homes Chant merry lays, in balmy air— I think of thee! I think of thee!

M y dearest maiden, fair and free.

Each thought of thee bids sorrow part, Brings joys of springtime to my heart!

II. SUMMER

When Spring to Summer glides away, And earth becomes a garden fair And seems a perfect paradise, ’Mid golden flowers and fragrant air— In sleepy glens, by murmuring streams, In tangled wildwood’s lonely way, On towering cliff, in mossy dell, If anywhere, I chance to stray— I dream of thee! I dream of thee!

M y maiden dear, so true to me.

T h y love and life far purer are Than light from yonder gleaming star.

III. AUTUMN

When time brings ’round the harvest age O f ripened fruit and golden sheaf— When Autumn’s changing form is seen In every tinged and varied leaf— When golden sunsets flood the sky And fill the earth with glorious light, And moon and stars, with mellow beam, Make fairyland within the night— I long for thee! I long for thee!

The maiden who will ever be A joy, a comforter divine, T o cheer this lonely heart of mine.

IV. WINTER

When shivering Autumn flies away A t dire November’s rugged blast, And wintry winds, with sleet and chill, Drive every hope away, at last—

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When dreary days, so dark, so cold, Come o’er me with their saddened gloom, And every sound and every thought Seems Death’s reminder of the tomb— I yearn for thee! I yearn for thee!

O maiden, come and comfort me!

M y heart, my life shall be thine own, M y will the footstool of thy throne!

W

il l ia m

T

urner

W

hedon,

Michigan ’ 81

M E M IN ISSE J U V A B IT ! r iv e r Death flowed through the land of Night,

Ais lapping waves the solitary sound O f all that world. Dark shadows came and fell Upon the shores, unseen; to reigning Night Their solemn court in silence paid. And none T he dreary waters found by any path— Each took his course in doubt, and wandered from The light, led by inexorable fate.

Back from the river’s shore, on hither side, Stretched the unknown, with creeds and hopes that lived And living gave betimes a feeble light, Now strewn extinguished; as the fire damp glows And then expires amid the vapors whence It rose exhaled. The priestly tapers, held W ith solemn pause and ceremonial rite Upon the borders of the gloomy land, Served to illume the faces of the throng That gathered round, but cast no ray beyond.

The doleful music of the priestly choir, A gruesome wailing, on the border air Died as it fell. No light, no sound was there; No path.

From out the homes of men there rose A plaintive cry, and sobbing as the sound O f strings swept by the mournful wind. And with T he years it stronger grew and sadder still, As human love increased and mankind grew In longing for the truth and knew it not; And as the brotherhood of man was taught 460

By Him who humbly walked in Nazareth— Such lesson simply did he teach, and that Jehovah is the Father of us all— But still the cry from human hearts went up: For priestcraft, ever watchful, seized the word And covered it with forms and rites and creeds; Thrust heaven from the heart, its true abode, Transferred it to the skies, beyond the ken O f human eye, beyond the land of Night, Beyond the river Death. And Nature grieved.

Then faithful men, laborious, patient, kind, Gave up their lives in searching for the light, And slowly from the vision of the world The darkness lifted, and the night was morn.

The truth restored, bright reason led the day, The Jubilate rose in sweeter strains; The light of love from one supernal power, Transcending creeds, sent down a purer ray Than man had dreamed, a sweeter hope than he Had known. Content in doing good, his aim T o place humanity, not self, above The plain, man rose by Nature’s laws serene T o Nature’s God. The flowers bloomed e’en to The water’s edge, and monuments arose On wrecks of creeds; the verdure grew above Dead hopes; men fearless walked the shore, And in the waters bathed their weary feet.

Sy l v e s t e r G e n i n W

il l ia m s ,

Ohio Wesleyan ’ 77

A N A C R O S T IC \

you ever stop in wonder, 1 Gazing at a clouded sky, While above you rolls the thunder, In your path no shelter nigh, Longing for a place to hide you Lest the storm should overcome, If the mocking winds deride you And dismay your senses numb,— May some passing pleasant fellah, Shelter you with his umbrella. hould

Sy l v e s t e r G

e n in

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461

il l ia m s ,

Ohio Wesleyan ’ 77

Unidentified Poems ☆

☆

☆

Published in the Beta Theta Pi magazine, several of them evidently written by the editors; some of them “ Selected” ; with a few of interfraternity interest.

U N D E R T H E RO SE

W ho know s, w h o know s,

W hat exquisite sweetness Those words disclose?

Under the rose!

Under the rose!

W hat hopes, what fears, W hat smiles, what blushes, W hat bliss, what tears, In the light of living and love repose Under the rose!

Under the rose!

It lives, it heaves, As soft as the petals, as fresh as the leaves, As rich as the hues that the heart adorn W ith all of the fragrance and none of the thorn, It blooms, it brightens, it gleams, it glows, Under the rose!

Under the rose!

From classic days, This symbol of secrecy passing praise, This guardian of lovers, this queen of flowers, Has never kept secret so sweet as ours.

It will sparkle and blaze always— always W ith a marvelous meaning No language shows— Under the rose!

462

SUB ROSA flower you have placed within my buttonhole Has faded: but there lives within my soul Another rose, unfolding hour by hour— Your beauty’s self in its immortal flower, That makes me rich with an unfathomed wealth, And happy in the heaven of its health.

So living-warm this dainty flower glows, As if a sunbeam blushed into a rose; W ith fragrance like a waft from heaven afar, And look as lustrous as the morning star.

I do not come to crown your beauty, Sweet!

Nor thank you for it, kneeling at your feet; But pray that on love’s bosom it may rest, As thornless as its likeness in my breast; And ask Him who such promise here hath given T o let me see the flower fulfilled in heaven.

h is

F R O M T H E G E R M A N O F K A R L SIE B E L so high, above so far, Glittering there a glorious star, So very near and yet so far, M y love could I forget?

E

dw ells

He took my heart into his own, And said, “ Forever thine alone,” His heart so great and mine so lone, His love could I forget?

He is so high, so far above, Glistening there a star of love, So near and yet so far above, I never can forget.

K . D. T O M Y OW N t s e e a lovely sunset fade **■ Far down the western skies, I look, and lo! how bright ’tis made By the light of your sweet eyes.

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I hear a half forgotten strain O f music, soft and low— Your gentle voice, it comes again, T he dearest that I know.

M y darling, every true divine— Bright clouds in heavens blue— This beauteous world, the stars that shine, A ll speak to me of you.

The sweetest of my dreams at night, M y dearest thoughts by day, Ah, Precious, keep my memory bright When I am far away.

And when the bitter years have flown T hat called me from thy side, I bide the time, my life, my own, When thou shalt be my bride.

K . D.

R A ISE A SO N G O F B R E A T H S U B L IM E

a ise

a song of b reath sublim e,

Strains of sweetest measure, Sing the praise of rosy wine That mingles joy with pleasure.

Quaff the wine, the garland twine . Round the brow of sorrow; Fill the time with joy divine, Thoughtless of the morrow.

II ’T is the cup that blushes bright Ivy crowned and weeps with crimson That shall ope with magic might Mem’ry’s doors of prison.

(From the first Beta songbook)

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EPIGRAMS FROM THE IRISH

r

On Certain Contemporaries

reading the epigrams by J. J. Piatt I hardly dare write, lest I, too, should seem flat. fter

I take up her journal and in it I find A mingling of languages very inhuman, And instantly rises this thought in my mind— One tongue is enough for a woman.

Though to literature not inclined to, I could write— said he— quite easily As well as you, or Shakespeare, too, If only I had the mind to.

I ’d not sift out— said he— those chapters weak That stand like spectres on my chapter roll.

The reason why you’ll not go far to seek; In sifting out such he’d sift out the whole.

I mark, with silent wonder, why a literary society Should have a little journal of such dull and prim pro­ priety, O f no literary excellence— and will not try to gain it; For it’s got the reputation and needs not to maintain it.

M Y C O U S IN B E L IN D A (Note — Cousin Belin is fam iliarly know n as B elinda; she likes to be called B elin, because she know s that it rhymes more easily than Belinda, though she knows that I could rhyme M a ry A nn or Laborosoarchodina just as easily as Belin.— T h e A u th or.)

A

je l in

, Belin, Belin,

Has a daisy little chin T o her phiz; And entirely like her chin, Is my sweet cousin Belin, Indeed she is. “ O f her taffy I could tell, For she spreads it pretty well But rather thick.

465

And she’s artful with her eyes, And so sweet are her sighs T hat they stick. “ Cousin Belin has auburn hair, But her cheeks are fresh and fair As a rose.

She makes me moan and sigh and yearn, When I see the heavenward turn T o her nose. “ She can laugh like the long Thrilling ripple of a song, Can Belin, But just once in a while I imagine that her smile Is like a grin. “ Her glances are so fleet, Y et so prim and so discreet, That I ’ll bet When she’s old she will look Like a maiden in a book, O r one I ’ve met— “ W ho is graceful, cute and clever, Y et to whom methinks I never Could propose, Since she hates— for all her face O f mingled flirtiness and grace— The race of beaux. “ Nevertheless I love Belin, W ith her dimples and her chin, And her nose; And, in short, if Cousin Belin Is kind enough to let me win, I ’ll propose.”

T H E W O O IN G O ’ T H E W IN D S

O

a hill that near the river stood, A tall, white queenly rose did sweetly bloom; Modest, yet bright, her thought was of the good, And happy fancies scattered clouds and gloom. n c e on

466

The while she bloomed in innocence and joy, The gentle South W ind softly sighing blew.

He talked of love; and to the gladsome boy She said not nay although he came to woo.

But when his love grew sultry, her patience sorely trying, She pushed him from her— L o ! her first love lay a dying.

Now from the South she turns and to the North Her flexile head inclines. Rude Boreas comes, From ice-locked lakes, all manly, issuing forth; And to his hardier plea, her heart responds.

Y et he imperious grew, her slightest wish denying, The queenlike spirit quick rebelled. Her second love was dying.

And when, for refuge, to the sun-burned West That fair, pale, modest head enquiring turned, His words of passion far surpassed the rest.

In bashful, glad assent her cheeks now burned.

Something too rude was he, her finer thoughts all flying From his rough, virile grasp. Her third love now is dying.

The East W ind yet remains; his subtle plea Thrills to her heart and sweeps its fluttering strings. “ T o thee, O Eurus, will I gladly flee,” She cries, and at his feet her much-tried spirit flings.

But of the mind, and not the heart his love; and she such love decrying Him casts unworthy from her. Her last love fast is dying. “ I loved them all and yet I love them none, Lovers no more will I,” quo* she. “ Y e men who come to woo, avaunt! begone!

M y smile on friends alone shall be.”

And so she stands in beauty, like the Sun, Her equal favours giving free to all.

Beware, Sweet Rose, there may e’en yet be one W ho to thy heart shall sound a welcome call.

Y et there are some who fear to see him come, For then thy rays will centered be, And they left, darkened, in the vale to roam, T o mourn and cry aloud, W oe’s me!

467

TH E BACHELOR’S GUEST you, I ’m glad you admire it; Quite a snug den, is it not?

Roll your chair up to this fire: it Seems to go right to the spot.

hank

There! Now, my Benedict brother, In your acquaintance— confess— Is there, beside me, another Life seems to wear upon less?

Honestly, now, think— or try to— W ho of your family men Sees half the comfort that I do, Here in my bachelor den?

Don’t talk to me about marriage!

W hat do I want with a wife, Children, house, horses and carriage— A ll the discomforts of life?

This, now, is something like— this is— Comfort, contentment and ease; Ah, the real essence of bliss is Freedom to live as you please!

Here in my castle I lord it, W ith a most absolute sway; Buy, when my purse can afford it— Go without, when it says “ nay.”

No one have I to perplex me, Cooing petitions for cash.

Milliners’ bills never vex me— “ Item, hat. Item, blue sash.”

Here, by my coal-fire, arrayed in Smoking-cap, slippers and gown, Is there any more comfort displayed in Any man’s lot in the town ?

Books in my library yonder, Pictures to hang on the wall— W hat needs a man more, I wonder?

Home-comforts! I have them all!

468

Or, if I need recreation, Concert and lecture and play Furnish me cheap relaxation— Only one entrance to pay!

Oh, yes, I know the whole twaddle— “ Sympathy,” “ love,” and all that!

When a man marries, his noddle Does hatch the foolishest chat!

Don’t try to tell me how nice it Is to see “ her” pouring tea!

Tea-table gush! I despise it!

Restaurants, thank you, for me.

Really, George, you’ve my pity; If I feel moved to condole W ith any man in this city, You are the man, by my soul!

Here you are, now— twenty-seven— Just when you might enjoy life— Barred from this bachelor heaven, Tied to a home and a wife.

W hat a shame! W hy,— I beg pardon— Maybe I ’m going too far? ’Tisn’t just right to be hard on Misery. Have a cigar?

— Thought I ’d a case in my pocket.

Just pull that cabinet-drawer— Upper one. No, I don’t lock it.

Help yourself; that’s what they’re for.

Upper one, man! (Great Apollo!

How did Nell’s picture get there?

Now there’ll a pretty show follow— See the confounded fool stare! ) — W ell, when you’re quite done that yelling— Able to speak and not shout— Maybe you wouldn’t mind telling W hat all this tumult’s about!

469

Oh, any time— there’s no hurry!

There— glad to see you come to!

— Yes, sir, it is “ Helen Murray, Framed in a border of blue!”

W hat if it is, sir, if you please ?

Mayn’t I, if I desire— There, start that roar again— do, please!

Blushing? I ’m not! It’s the fire.”

B E A U T Y CLARE dear boy, but know her!

And I ’ll try my best to show her As she is; For, to do the truth no harming, Any fellow’d call her charming Were she his. should,

Beauty Clare, this beauty Clare, For the dear boys lays a snare Ever more.

And she surely counts, I vow, The hearts that she has trapped ere now, By the score.

That this little darling pet Is indeed a sad coquette, I confess; But her cunning tricks so sweet Soon would bring you to her feet, I should guess.

T h o’ her rosy lips can pout, And her mouth will mock and flout, Oftentimes, Y et when she sees a fellow’s woe Sweet words from her lips will flow Like poets’ rhymes.

She wears a jaunty-tilted hat, Flower-trimmed, and all of that.

(Ah, so sweet!)

470

And each tiny buttoned boot Looks so very, very, very cute On her feet.

She has a fairy little glove— Such a bonny, winsome love— On each hand; And its tassel swings and twirls As the waltzing music purls From the band.

All the girls they do assert That you are a heartless flirt, Beauty Clare, But since all the boys adore you And have laid their hearts before you, Do you care?

T h o’ those eyes with love oft dream, Y et ’tis said she loves ice-cream Mighty well.

That she’s fond of oyster stew And nuts and fruits, and candies too, I can tell.

O you dainty, darling Clare, Please you, won’t you, can’t you share, (Ah, you can!)

Just the smallest bit of love?

W on’t you lift to worlds above A heart-sick man?

ON TH E VERANDA Ballade I the summer wind blows, Listless with languor and rest, And through the dim foliage glows T he fair evening star in the west.

A t ease in my light-swaying nest, I dreamily burn my cigar—

ig h t l y

471

A favored and favorite guest— As Cora plays on the guitar.

II Darkly the shadows enclose The nook in sweet quiet possessed, Forgot is the world and its woes, ’T is enough that the present is blessed; No more let my days be distressed, Bid sorrow now flee away far— The thought of it seems like a jest As Cora plays on the guitar.

III The night stills to deeper repose, And Venus drops o’er the hill’s crest.

No ballad the singer foregoes, W ith many a chaunt of love’s quest; “ W hat now?” I hear gently addressed, W ith cadence of chords and a bar, And fondly my love is confessed, As Cora plays on the guitar.

Envoy And this of all life seems best: T o list to the voice of my star, While sometimes she’s kissed or caressed, As Cora plays on the guitar.

H O R A E H O R A T IA N A E I.— Carm. I. I. lECENAs,

atavis edite regibus,

O , et praesidium, et dulce decus meum: Sunt quos curriculo pulverem Olympicum Collegisse juvat; metaque fervidis Evitata rotis, palmaque nobilis Terrarum Dominos evehit ad Deos.

Oh, Maecenas, my friend, sprung from a kingly race,

472

M y protector art thou, thou art my dear renown!

Some there are who delight in the Olympic dust Flung up by the swift car,— who to the gods are raised, Lords of the earth, in the race for the ennobling palm.

II.— Carm. i. 2.

Jam satis terris nivis atque dirae Grandinis misit pater, ac rubente Dextera sacras jaculatus arces, Terruit urbem.

Long enough hath Jove on the frightened nations Rained his hail and snow,— with his redd’ning right hand Overturned the gates of the sacred temples, Awing the city.

III.— Carm. 1 . 5 .

Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa Perfusus liquidis urget odoribus Grato, Pyrra, sub antro ?

Cui flavam religas comam.

Pyrrha, what dainty youth, scented with rich per­ fumes, Woos thee in the cool grot, lolling on flowers the while ?

W ho bids bind up thy tresses Yellow, oh thou enchantress coy?

III.— Carm. 1. 9.

Vides, ut alta stet nive candidum Soracte; nec jam sustineant onus Sylvae laborantes, geluque Flumina constiterint acuto?

Thou seest how white snow-covered Soracte stands; The trees scarce hold their burdensome heads erect, And all the streams renounce their flowing, Touched by the hand of the chilly north wind.

473

OW ED T O BOSTON “ W al, stranger; bein’s it’s you, I don’t mind tellin’.”

— Anon.

I

7/1 I h a t

keeps m y drooping soul alive, LJw / W ith strength against the world to strive, And sweeter than all food besides, Down through my epiglottis glides?

The oyster? Nay. The clam? Oh, no!

Dear though they be to Boston’s heart: I pass them by, When you are nigh— Though hard it be from them to part— And turn to you, I love you so.

Sweet to my palate, tender, done through— I don’ mind tellin’, bein’s it’s you.

II W hat nerves my mind, sustains my thought, Freights deep with essence vainly sought By ancient philosophic mind, And bids me leave the world behind?

The oyster? Nay. The clam? Oh, no!

Essential beings though they be: A deeper fire Doth me inspire Than clam or oyster e’er set free— Transcendent flames within me glow.

Copia frumenti, born of the dew, I ’ll tell you only, bein’s it’s you.

III W hat spreads the name of Boston far Beyond the utmost glimmering star That guards the universe by night, O r outer sun’s eternal light?

The oyster? Nay. The clam? Oh, no!

Though luscious fruitage of the bay, And Cook’s best dish Doth smell of fish.

Sustained by you, I walk the way Where essences transcendent flow; Through you my blood runs rich and blue— I ’ll tell you, therefore,— Beans, it’s you.

474

VOYAGING

£

il e n t l y ,

over th e m o o n lit sea,

M y bark glides on toward an unknown shore, Whose shadowy outlines I cannot discern, Though I hear on its reefs the breakers roar.

Behind me the sea swells dark and cold; And I think of its depths with unbidden tears, For, lost in its unknown caves, there lie All the hopes and joys of the vanished years.

And just ’neath the stern of my gliding bark, I gaze, as the circles wider grow Round the spot where my last fond hope went down, Forever lost in the depths below.

Before me the silver moon hangs low, And m arks o’er the w aves a pathw ay b rig h t; And my boat, though the waves behind lie dark, Seems gliding on in a sea of light.

So I gaze ahead, o’er the glimmering sea, And wait and watch for the unseen shore, Where my bark at last shall anchor safe, Her voyaging done, forevermore.

Bravely, then, will I steer my course Along that pathway of silver light, And look not back on the dreary past, T ill the welcome headlands shall greet my sight.

W

il l

W

in so r

T H E U N IV E R S IT Y O F C A L IF O R N IA thou western world! by heaven designed, The example bright to renovate mankind!

Soon shall thy sons across the mainland roam And claim on far Pacific’s shore a home; Their rule, religion, manners, arts convey And spread their freedom to the Asian sea.

Towns, cities, fanes shall lift their towering pride, ll h a il !

475

The village bloom on every streamlet’s side; Proud commerce’s mole the western surges lave, The long white spire lie imaged on the wave.

Where marshes teemed with death shall meads unfold, Untrodden cliffs resign their stores of gold; Where slept perennial night shall science rise And new-born Oxfords cheer the evening skies.

T

im o t h y

D w ig h t

(Adapted to the University of California.)

C O L L E G E T R A D I T IO N S begins to write, a poet’s study Is how to gain the ear of anybody.

Hepburn, whose text-book, in the days of yore, Was the hobgoblin of the sophomore, Into our, brains by two fond teachers hammered, O f whom one stuttered and the other stammered— A paradox of English Lit. instruction— Lays down three precepts for the introduction.

One is, to frame an introduction so That from the framework on the spot shall grow The theme. The other precepts I forget.

Hepburn deserves respect to-night, and yet The application of his rule would seem Impossible, because I have no theme.

Where that essential’s lacking, Hepburn’s book Speaks as omniscently as Joseph Cook; If there’s no theme, its positive deduction Is, that there can not be an introduction.

So much for that. In book reviews, no doubt, The poet’s in a scrape, who starts without Some weighty platitudes to talk about.

But diners-out ignore these trivialities, And only ask for glittering generalities, Such as our classic after-dinner wits Produce when opportunity permits— Though many a dinner memory is bitter W ith generalities that did not glitter.” hen he

A . D . N oyes

(An Amherst man of ’ 83, referring to A n d r e w D ousa H e p b u r n , Washington-Jejferson ’51) 476

THE SPIRITED more the college town rings out W ith the raucous sound of the college shout, And the peaceful natives are on the racks As breke, ke, kex, koax, koax Is yelled by night and is yelled by day, And the barber poles are stolen away, And they duck the Freshmen with grand huzzah, And a deafening chorus of Siss, Boom, A h !

And the football season begins to throb, And the college spirit gets on the job! nce

Once more John Harvard lays down the law, Once more Three Cheers for Old Nassau Are cried with vociferous vim and will, And the town policeman they almost kill, And for pigskin heroes the class they comb, And the Freshman mournfully sighs for home, T h o’ there indeed, if he only knew, The college spirit is working too, And that maddening burden of Rah! Rah! Rah! Is raising the dickens with Pa and Ma! Poor Ma, in fact, she’d scarce know how T o voice an articulate Varsity W ow , Is tortured at night by a terrible dream O f impending defeat for the football team, And a vision is dangled before her eyes O f shattered ankles and broken thighs, While Pa, with cost that he little recks, Is showing his spirit by writing checks, And trusting he never may go to jail For God, for Country, and for Y a le !

Rickety, rickety, zing, zing, boom!

Let Freshmen manfully meet their doom, And for any old college in any old place Learn the honor and love that Tim e can’t efface That is voiced in the shouts at the football game As, winning or losing, they shout just the same; But far away from that bellowing crowd There are other shouts that are just as loud,

477

And I prize much more than the yells of boys— The college spirit that has no noise!

A r t h u r J u d d R yan

In The New York Times

W H EN G R EEK M EETS G REEK Greek meets Greek, no matter where or when, They forge a chain, the Fellowship of Men— T oo strong and true for word of tongue or pen; Knowing that each has been a chosen man, Knowing that each is scion of a clan, Though each has worshipped at an alien shrine, Back in the dear, dead days of Auld Lang Syne. hen

When Greek meets Greek, it is no matter where The stranger comes from, we are welcomed there— Although our badge be Star or Shield or Square.

For hearts beat ever high and hands clasp true, Though Delta T au he be or Sigma Nu, Phi Delt, Phi Gam, or Deke; And college dreams that bless and sometimes burn, Like half-forgotten melodies return, When Greek meets Greek.

W

arren

P i p e r , in The Delta of Sigma Nu

T H E USELESS F R A T E R N I T Y M A N n ce there was a frat man— we needn’t specify, He might have been an Alpha Delt, a Deke, or Zeta Psi, An S.A.E., a Sigma Chi, or maybe A .T .O ., (Most any name would do as well and be as apropos) ; But the moral of the tale Is that this exclusive male Never seemed to be the kind of chap the fellows liked about; For a stupid lot was his, And the explanation is, He put nothing in, so he got nothing out.

0

478

Once in a while he’d pay his dues and come around a bit And let himself be bored (which he most frankly would admit) ; He said he rather thought the thing was out of date— antique, And, after graduation, he forgot it in a week; And when he went away You could hear the fellows say They really thought the chapter worse off with him than without; And to every neophyte That they took in, they’d recite: “ If you put nothing in, why, you’ll get nothing out.”

Once there was a frat man— will you swear it, now, Never was there such a man as this in Delta Tau? Positively certain were we talking entre nous, Nothing in this useless man at all resembles you?

Oh, there may be a few things worse Than this hesitating verse, But it serves a bully purpose if it clears away a doubt; You may take this as the truth, And swear by it, pretty youth— If you put nothing in, then you’ll get nothing out.

From The Rainbow of Delta Tau Delta

T H A T O L D F R A T E R N I T Y PIN plain old business plodder who don’t give a rap for frills, And I ’m worried less by fashion than I am by stocks and bills.

Though my wife insists that in me Nature planned a perfect man, I ’m afraid that I ’m not building in accordance with that plan.

I have never owned a watch or worn a chain, or fob, or ring, And, in fact, I ’m out of sympathy with all that sort of thing.

I indulge no taste for baubles. Y et what thoughts come throng­ ing in When I see some college youngster “ flash” my old “ frat” pin!

A t the sight of that old emblem I forget that I am gray, And my pulse beats just as strongly as upon that far-off day When a band of student brothers taught me mystic grip and sign, And I rode their goat in triumph— and that shining badge was mine.

Father Tim e has not been idle, and those “ boys” of long ago Now are scattered far and widely, and their heads are crowned with snow; / ’m

a

479

But their hearts, I know, beat warmly, for they keep alive within A ll the principles embodied in that old “ frat” pin.

How my thoughts go flying backward to youth’s iridescent day, When the world lay all before me and Hope beckoned on the way!

Now another generation claims the center of the stage, W hile I ’m ready to write “ finis” at the bottom of my page.

I ’ll confess a strange emotion sets my very soul aglow As I greet again by proxy those old “ boys” of long ago.

How it starts my nerves a-tingling! How it warms my heart within When I couple past and present with that old “ frat” pin.

From The Chicago Times-Herald Selected

480

TH E BETA BARDS H enry W . L o n g f e l l o w ....................3 8 7

Charles Hemmenway Adams D ePauw ’ 65

H arold James Baily Amherst ’ 08

Newspaper Ed itor

P artin g S o n g .................................... 85 W . T . Sherman .............................169

L a w y e r ; District C h ie f; General Secretary 1 9 2 6 - 1 9 3 5 ; Treasurer, Secretary, and Chairman o f N a ­ tional Interfraternity Conference W o o g lin ’s S o u l .....................................1 3 7

Robert Francis A llen Boston ’ 05 T ea ch er o f E n g lish

Chambers Baird Harvard ’ 82

T h e Badge ....................................... 43 T h e Legend o f W o o glin ............ 134

L a w y e r ; on Editorial Staff Beta T h eta P i 1883-1893, being M a n ­ a g in g E ditor 1883-4 and 18 8 6 -7; C o nvention delegate 18 8 1, 1882, 1884, 1885, 188 7, 1888, 1889, 1890, 1 8 9 2 ; Convention VicePresident 1884.

George E llsw orth A m ick Hanover ’ 17 T h e Cam ion C a r a v a n ................... 381 Francis D u fo n t Am m en L ehigh ’ 97 P a te n t A t to r n e y ; C o n v en tio n dele­ gate 1896 F r ie n d s h ip .................................................3 8 1

W alter Foster A n g ell Brow n ’ 8o Lawyer

T o O m ega

....................................... 91

M orris L eR oy A rnold M innesota ’ 0 4 P rofessor o f E n g l i s h ; C o n v en tio n delegate 1902 and 1903

F r a te m ita s .........................................

10

Harmon Seeley Babcock Brow n *74 L a w y e r ; V a ledicto ria n 1 8 7 4 ; C o n ­ ven tion delegate 1881 and 18 8 2 ; C o n v e n tio n V ice-P resident 1 8 8 2 ; C o n v en tio n A lu m n u s delegate 18 9 4 ; C o n v en tio n P o e t 189 4

Beta F r ie n d s h ip ................................ 13 T o Beta S o n s .................................. 55 F a ir Beta G i r l s ................................ 59 Cerberus ............................................153 T h e Friendship o f L earning . . .256 A D r e a m ............................................263 D aw n (Convention Poem , 1894) 347 W hen W inter S h r ie k s ................... 382 A W inter M o rn in g ......................382 L ife and D e a t h ................................383 Once ...................................................383 Riches H ave W in gs ......................384 He W as M y F r i e n d ......................384 A Contrast ....................................... 385

481

A n Ohio Reunion P o e m .............. 2 1 0 A Rhyme o f the T i m e ................. 2 5 3 T h e Beta D inner .......................... 2 6 1 T h e Beta F la g and S o n g ............ 2 6 2 W hen Poets S a n g .......................... 3 8 9 I f I Could Sing as Sappho Sang. 3 8 9 H e in e ...................................................3 9 0 Fam e .................................................. 3 9 0 On the H e ig h t s ............................... 3 90 R egret ................................................ 3 9 1 Roses ...................................................3 9 1 T o Rose ........................................... 3 9 2 H er G loves ...................................... 3 92 M e m o r ia ls ......................................... 3 9 3 A tlantis .............................................. 3 9 3 T h e M aid o f the M i s t ................. 3 9 4 T w o Chords ina M in or K e y . . . 3 9 5 R e co m p e n se...................................... 3 9 5 A fte r M an y Y e a r s ........................ 3 9 6 A Roundelay o f R h y m e .............. 3 9 7 One to A n o t h e r ............................... 4 0 0 A B allad o f S ta te s .......................... 4 0 1 T o Juno ........................................... 4 ° 2 A rthur Edward Baker Yale ’ 1 0 In Business Phi Chi M a r c h i n g ........................ 1 2 3 Oscar Slack Barrett Cincinnati ’ 1 4 Steamship Com pany Executive; C o nvention V ice-President 1933 T h e Convention Dance ................. 2 7 0

Joshua H a ll Bates, Jr. Cincinnati ’ 01 T h e N e w ly C h o s e n ........................

Silver G ray to Silver G r a y ..........193 Henry Whitney Brown, Jr. M iam i ’ 17 A lp h a M arching S o n g .................n o

37

George B ellow s Ohio State ’ 0 5

M artin Luther Brooks Western Reserve ’ 64 Beta’s E m b le m s ...............................

A r tis t

A T h e ta D elta M an

....................114

A lv in Barber Bishop Union ’ 85

41

Russell Victor Burk hard Colum bia ’ 15 Cheer, Betas, Cheer .......................... 29

H ig h School P r in c ip a l; E d ito r; C o n v e n tio n D e leg a te 1883

Henry Burton B eloit ’ 62

T h e W ish-Star ............................... 404 James B uckley Black D ePauw ’ 62

Clergy m an

A t the Western W i n d o w .............. 4 0 5

L a w y e r ; A p p ellate Court J u d g e ; C o n v e n tio n P o e t 18 8 6 ; C o n v e n ­ tion P residen t 18 7 0

Charles Edward Butler D enver ’ 37 Inscription for a Fraternity House D o o r ......................................... 78

B eta’s Bonds .................................... 14 C edar Creek (Convention Poem ) 284

M ounce E arl Byrd Bethany ’ 05

Samuel E arl Blakeslee D enver ’ 03

Physician

M usic D irector and Com poser; C o n v e n tio n D e le g a te 1902 A lp h a Zeta ..............................................1 0 4

Beta D a y s ................................................

Raymond D uB ois Cahall Kenyon ’ 08

John Paul Bocock W ashington-Lee ’ 7 5

25

Professor o f H istory

Beta A lp h a C o m in g - I n ................. 1 0 6

Journalist

W illiam Herbert Carroth Kansas ’ 80

T h e Betas in B o h e m ia .................... 2 4 1 W illiam Henry Bocock Hampden-Sydney ’ 84

Professor o f Literature and Head o f E n g lish Departm ent

P ro fesso r of G r e e k and U n iversity D ean T h e F a ll o f the E v e n i n g .............. 4 0 4

From Beta to B e t a ........................ 165 Each in his ow n T o n g u e .............. 4 0 6 W illiam M arc Chauvenet Washington (S t.L .) ’ 77

W illis Boughton M ichigan ’ 81

Chem ist and M in i n g E n gin e er

Teacher of E n glish , Erasmus H a ll; C o n v e n tio n P o e t 18 9 0 ; C o n v e n tio n V ice-P re sid e n t 18 9 6 ; M em ber o f Board o f Directors of the F raternity 18 9 5 -7

T h e Fleeting Years ......................186 H arold E dgar Cherrington Ohio ’ 10 N ewspaper M an; C o nvention delegate 190 8; C o n v en tio n Assist­ ant Secretary 1908 A t Saratoga ...........................................2 7 2

Beta T h e ta Pi— A S o n n e t............ 12 T h e Beta G r a c e s ............................. 4 0 A T o ast to the B e t a s ....................1 7 3 W hen G reek M eets G r e e k ............ 188 Ode to the Greeks ........................ 3 2 0 T o John G reenleaf W h ittier . . . . 4 0 5

Percy Bayard Cochran Bethany ’ oo Law yer; C o n v en tio n delegate 18 9 8 ; C o n v en tio n Assistant Sec­ retary 1901 H arbor S o n g ...........................................268

Edw ard John Brown H anover ’ 73 C l e r g y m a n ; C o n v en tio n delegate 1 8 7 2 ; C o n v e n tio n C haplain 1 8 7 9 ; G en era l Secretary 18 7 8 -18 8 1

Frederick W elton Colegrove Colgate ’ 82

T h e Beta R o c k ................................105

P rofessor o f P h ilo so ph y; Realtor

T o Sam: B e t a ................................ 106

482

T h e Silver G r a y s ...............................

94

Charley Henry C ollier Ohio *63

C o m m itte e; 1886, 1887

Samuel Herbert Collins D enison ’ 74 Physician

69

Clarence N elson Cone Ohio Wesleyan ’ 14

delegate

T h e Song Unsung ........................ 4 11 T h e Silent Poet .............................412 T h e S p h in x .......................................413 Shipwreck .........................................414 L ife— Death .................................... 414 K e a t s .................................................. 415

In surance E xecutive

A Reminiscence o f the Past . . . .253

Pledge to Beta T h e ta P i ............

Convention

D w igh t Lyman Crays Northwestern ’ 23 Banker

Sales M a n a g e r

M iam i— M other o f B e t a ............ 182

O ld Rho ........................................... 113

Starr Gardiner Cooper Yale ’ 08 T h e E l e v e n .......................................407

J o sefh E llsw orth Curry Kansas ’ 86 A d L ic i n iu m .................................... 416

Stanley Coulter H anover *71

Grove D aniel Curtis Kenyon ’ 80 A Founder o f K e n y o n Chapter; C o n v en tio n D e leg a te 1879, 1880; C o n v en tio n Vice-P resident 1905 W o o g lin ’s Son in V i s i o n ................. 1 0 5

P ro fesso r o f Chem istry and U n i ­ versity D e a n ; C o n v en tio n dele­ g ate 18 7 1

A s Betas N o w W e M e e t ............... -j0

Come Back, Come B ack to Gam bier ................................................... 1 0 8 Beta T w i n s ............................................. 3 6 3

John lchabod Covington M iam i *70 In surance E x ecu tive; C o n v en tion d elegate 18 7 2 , 18 8 1, 188 7, 1888, 1889, 1890, 1 8 9 1 ; C o n v en tio n V ice-P resident 1 8 8 7 ; C o n v en tion P resident 1 8 9 3 ; G en e r a l T r e a s ­ urer 1 8 7 2 - 1 8 7 3 , 1 8 8 4 - 1 8 9 1 ; E d i ­ tor o f B eta T h eta P i 18 7 9 - 1 8 8 3 ; D istrict C h ie f C arve D a t C a n i n e ............................... 1 4 7

W alter Emerson Dennison Ohio Wesleyan *77 D istrict C h ie f; C o n v en tio n dele­ gate 1 8 7 6 ; proponent o f the colors “ pink and blue” ; C o n v en tion Sec­ retary 1 8 7 9 ; E d ito rial Staff Beta T h eta P i 1879-1880 T h e Pink and B l u e ............................. 4 5

St U r b a n ................................................... 4 5 6

A L eap-Y ear L i l t .......................... 63 O ur O ld Beta Home ....................... 7 9 Eumenes ................................................... 4 x 7

George Clarke C o x Kenyon ’ 86 C le r g y m a n ; Professor o f P h ilo so ­ phy; Investments M a n a g e r ; C o n ­ ve n tion delegate 1 8 8 6 ; C o n v e n ­ tion Poet 188 8; Convention Assistant Secretary 1886

T h e Convention Poem, 1888 . . .3 1 7 L ’Am our Seul Est P a r f a i t ............ 407 T h e N ig h t in g a le ............................. 408 In M y Desk .................................... 408 T h e Death o f Constance ............ 410 W illiam H ow ard C o x D enison ’ 07

D onald D . Donnan Iow a ’ 85 Journalist; Convention P o e t 1895

T h e D riftin g D a y s .............................1 8 9 Fraternity (Convention Poem ) . .352 Frank Wadsworth D oolittle Colgate ’ 83 A d v e rtis in g Representative

A T oast to the F r a te r n ity .............. 2 5 0 Robert W infield D unn M ichigan ’ 95 L a w y e r ; C o n v en tion delegate 1894 Lam bda Chapter S o n g .................1 1 1 W o o g lin ’s Ode ............................... 143

P resident U n io n Cen tral L if e I n ­ surance Com pan y

A lp h a E ta S o n g ............................. 101 W illiam Henry Craws haw Colgate *87 Professor o f and C o lle g e

M orris Rogers Ebersole Cincinnati ’ 98

E n glish Literature D e a n ; on Ritual

Publicity M anager; District C h ie f; C o n v en tion delegate 1 8 9 7 ;

483

C o n v e n tio n Chorister 1 9 1 4 , 1 9 1 6 , 1 9 1 9 , 1920, 1 9 2 1 , 1 9 2 6 ; T rustee 19 2 0 -19 2 3

O l’ M an W o o g l i n ...........................142 E lija h Evan Edwards D eP auw ’ 5 3 C le r g y m a n ; P ro fesso r o f N a tu ra l Science; C o n v e n tio n P o e t 18 7 1

T h e Links T h a t Bind U s ............ 155 Betas o f L o n g A g o ...................... 1 6 0 Ernest H am m ond Eversz Northwestern ’ 95 In ves tm en t B a n k e r ; d ele ga te 189 4

17

A lb ert Bernhardt Faust Johns-H ofkins ’ 89 P ro fesso r o f G e r m a n ; C o n v e n tio n d elegate 1 8 8 9 ; C o n v e n tio n A s ­ sistant Secretary 1889

T h e A lu m n i’s R e t u r n ................... 371 In A lp h a C h i .................................. 374 Chester Anders Fee Oregon ’ 16 Beta M others ..................................

56

D a v id G ou ld Fifield B eloit ’ 21 C h i Chapter M arch ......................

87

Horace Sfen cer Fiske B eloit ’ 82

Ralph Edward Gabele Denison ’ 2 5 M y Beta G i r l .................................. 59 Charles Kelsey Gaines St. Lawrence ’ 76 Professor o f G r e e k ; Ritu al C o m ­ m ittee; C o n v en tio n poet 1893

Jam D ies C a r p t i ............................. 1 9 4 T h e Convention Poem, 1 8 9 3 . . . 3 4 3 W infred Ernest Garrison Yale ’ 9 4 , Bethany ’ 9 4 Professor o f Church History

61

Richard Gerner Stevens ’ 78 9

G eorge F itch K n o x ’ 97

M an u factu rer; E d ito r; Author

Beta T h eta D o g P i e ......................1 5 6 John G irdler Colorado ’ 0 7

A u th o r

A R ubaiyat o f Beta T h e ta Pi . . . 2 4 4 W atch in g the Silver G rays . . . . 2 5 4 A F itc h ia n is m .................................. 361 Uridge W hiffen Ford Colgate ’ 0 7 Beta T h e ta M arch in g Song . . . .

A Legend o f the D o r g .................144 A n Interfraternity Episode . . . .368 A n Episode o f W o o glin in the Olden D a y s .............................377 W hen C laribel S i n g s ......................439

Beta G irls .........................................

A u t h o r ; E d it o r ; P o e t ; Associated w ith the U n ivers ity o f Chicago, 1 8 9 4 -1 9 3 0

A Song o f B r o th e r h o o d ...............

Clyde Bowman Furst D ickinson ’ 93 Secretary o f C a rn eg ie F ou n dation ; C o n v en tio n delegate 1892

C o n v e n tio n

T h e Beta G rip ................................

Abraham and Ephraim .............. 421 He W orried A bout I t ................... 423 T h e H am let o f Hoeus P o ..........424 N o Hope fo r E nglish L ite ra tu re .425 W i n t e r ............ ................................... 426 T o w n and C o u n t r y ........................ 427 G r a s s v a le ........................................... 428 T h e Trum pets ............................... 429

Superintendent o f Schools

F o rty’s R o m a n c e ............................. 4 3 1 James Lindsay Gordon Virginia ’ 78 L a w y e r ; State Senator

94

Sam W alter Foss Brow n ’ 82 E d it o r ; P o e t ; L ib ra r ia n ; C o n v e n ­ tion P o e t 1892

Sin gin g F orever ............................. 2 6 T h e D o r g ......................................... 1 4 6 T h e Convention P o e m ................. 3 3 9 T ru th ................................................. 4 1 8 T h e T o llb rid g e K e e p e r ...............4 1 9 T h e M en W ho M iss the T r a in . .420

In M em oriam — H . D . H ..............1 6 1 O ur D ead ......................................... 1 6 9 R e u n io n ..............................................1 8 5 T h e Convention Poem, 1 8 8 3 . . . 3 0 0 T w o Songs ...................................... 4 3 2 W heeler at S a n t ia g o ......................433 W illiam Lucius Graves Ohio State ’ 93 P rofessor o f E n g lis h ; District C h ie f; C o n v en tio n delegate 1 8 9 1 ; M em ber o f Board o f Trustees 1914-17; C o n v en tio n Chorister

1 9 1 2 , 1 9 1 3 , 1 9 1 7 5 C o n v en tio n P ia n is t 1 9 1 1 , 1 9 1 5 , 1 9 1 6 ; C o n ­ ve n tio n V ice-P resident 1 9 2 1 , 1923

M ethodist C le r g y m a n ; C o nvention delegate 1878

P h ila b e t a ...........................................

F raternity ......................................... 10 F raternity ......................................... 239 R eading H om er .............................434 A Song fo r S u m m e r ......................434 W ith M iles B e tw e e n ......................435

W illiam A lter H azlett Ohio Wesleyan ’ 32 T h eta F i r e s ...................................... 114 Charles M cG uffey Hepburn Virginia ’ 80

W ilber James Gregory M ichigan ’ 86

Professor o f T h eta P i 18 8 6 -18 9 2 ; C o n v en tio n

B anker

Lam bda Banquet S o n g .................11 1 Lafayette Rupert Hamberlin Richmond. ’ 92

L a w ; Editor o f Beta 18 8 3 -18 9 3 ; D irector T rustee 18 9 2 -18 9 5 ; V ice-P resident 1891

W ith the Beta G i r l ........................ 61 O u r Silver G rays .......................... 185 Fraternal Sym pathy ......................190

Professor o f E n glish and Expres­ sion; C o n v e n tio n delegate 1892; C o n v en tion P o e t 1897

T o the Beta G i r l ........................... 60 A T oast to K n o x ...........................172 M emnon ............................................309 T h e Convention Poem, 1897 . . .3 5 7 W ooglin — T h e Beta’s Home . . .374 Six Sonnets .......................................435 S h ak sp ere........................................... 437 T e n n y s o n ............................................438 L o ve’s Return ..................................439 A Collection o f D eath M asks . . .439

Charles Finley Hersman Westminster ’ 84 P hysician

T h e Pink and Blue ...................... 46 W illiam Brainard H inkley Wesleyan ’ oo H o tel P roprietor

A Fountain ...................................... 260 Osman Castle H ooper Denison ’ 79 Professor o f Jo urnalism ; J o u rn a l­ ist; A u tho r

James Colem an Harwood Richm ond ’ 92

T h e O ld Chapter H a l l ................. 74 T h e House on the H i l l .................101 G r a n v i lle ........................................... 102 Beta Memories ........................ .223 A M em ory o f the B a l l .................441 September .........................................442

H ig h School P rin cipal

W i n t e r ................................................ 440 W illiam Sumner H arwood Iow a ’ 85 A u th o r

Arthur Lew is Hughes Denison ’ 79

T h is D a y ......................................... 440 T h e B e s t ............................................441 T h e Love S e t ..................................441

Law yer; C o n v en tio n 18 7 9 , 1880

delegate

O u r Colors ...................................... 49 W e’ll A lw a ys H ang T o geth er . . 81

James T a ft Hatfield Northwestern ’ 83

W entworth Cory Jacquin Illinois ’ 18

Professor o f G e r m a n ; Convention delegate 1 8 8 1 ; C o n v en tion P oet 1891

Books and Stationery

T h e T h ree S t a r s ............................. 38 T h e Beta S h r in e ............................. 68 B e n e d ic tu s ......................................... 76 Beta Mem ories ............................... 201 T h e Convention Poem , 1891 . . .329 Franke Stuart Havens Yale ’ 96

30

In the Beta Sort O ’ W a y ............ 364 A rchibald Yale Jameson M innesota ’ 24 Challenge .........................................140 Ralph W elles K eeler Wesleyan ’ 04 M ethodist C lergy m an and Church E x ecu tive; District C h ie f; C o n ­ vention delegate 1903 In Phi K a i P h i .....................................

Execu tive

D ea r Phi C h i ..................................124 Adam James Hawk Ohio

’79

The Beta V o y a g e .........................

4 85

20

22

T o the P le d g lin g - ........................... 35 A T o a st to C o lu m b ia .................... 95 M u E p s i lo n .......................................120 O Song T h a t L a s t s ........................ 166 T h e Silver G r a y ............................. 191 M usin g .............................................. 443

Solon Louer Western Reserve ’ 86 C lergy m an and A u thor

Song o f the Silver G r a y ............ 1 9 2 T h e Legend o f B ee-T ah ............ 2 2 9 Horace L ozier Chicago ’ 9 4

Robert F lo y d K err D eP auw ’ 77

Insurance B r o k e r; Ed itor of “ Songs o f Beta T h e ta P i ” 1902,

P ro fesso r o f P o litic a l E co n o m y ; E d it o r ; M em b er o f L egislature

T h e Initiate’s G r e e t i n g .................

1907, 1912, 1917 In the O ld Porch C h a i r s 17 T h e L o v in g Cup 33 T h e Chapter House S t e p s 33 M arch in g S o n g 34 W o o g lin to the P l e d g e 35 T h e Beta P o s ts c r ip t 58 She W ears M y Beta Pin 64 T h e Banquet H a l l ........................... 65 Recessional ...................................... 180

36

A rthur Robinson K irkham Oregon State ’ 23 R a d io A n n o u n cer

T o a st to B e t a ..................................

32

Forrest H unter K irk fa trick Bethany ’ 27 T e a c h e r and C o lle g e Execu tive

A t the Beta H o u s e ...........................

78

John Hogarth Lozier D ePauw ’ 57

R a lp h Augustus K reim er Cincinnati ’ 10

“ T h e H ig h Priest o f W o o g l i n ” ; C le r g y m a n and Lecturer; C o n v e n ­ tion delegate 18 6 6 ; C o n v en tion P oet, 1869

Law yer; C o n v e n tio n delegate 19 0 8 ; C o n v e n tio n M arsh a l 1908

D on Francisco S t u a r t o ................. 1 6 7 A ndrew W illia m K urrus W ashington (S t.L .) ’ 1 9 In su ran ce; 1 9 1 8 , 19 2 4

C o n v e n tio n

Beta Sires and Beta S o n s ............ 55 W e G ather A g a i n .......................... 69 W o o glin and T h e D o g .............. 1 2 9 W e’ll T o ast the Silver Grays . . . 1 7 6 T h e Response ..................................1 7 7 T h e H igh Priest’s Message . . . . 1 9 9 W o o g lin ’s Greeting ...................... 2 7 0

delegate

A Convention S k i t ........................ 2 8 2 A rthu r W ilson Lambert, Jr. W ashington (S t.L .) ’ 1 2 E lectrica l E n g i n e e r ; d elegate 1 9 1 1

C o n v en tio n

L u e Carruthers L ozier M issouri ’ 15

In vitin g the Hearse, o r T h e Con­ vention in V e r s e ................... 2 7 5

Law yer;

Robert Em m et M acAlarney D ickinson ’ 93

C o n v e n tio n

T h e T r ip le Stars ...........................

P rofessor o f Jo urnalism ; Scenario writer

39

Progressive E u c h r e ........................ 65 A T o ast to the F l e e t ................... 171

R ow land Edgar Leach B eloit ’ 08 M usician

In O ld C h i .......................................

delegate

1913 ’Neath the Elm s at O ld M ia m i. .18 2

John Ruse Larus Hampden-Sydney ’ 7 9 W r i t e r and E d it o r ; M arsh a l 1880

C o n v en tio n

86

W illiam Nash M a cN eill Rutgers ’ 08 C lergy m an

John Calvin Lewis M iam i ’ 60 Industrial Superintendent

B u rial o f Joel Battle ....................2 4 2

Beta G a m m a .................................... 115 W illiam Adam M agee California ’ 87 R ea l Estate

Robert D avis Longyear W illiam s ’ 14

O m ega, 1 8 7 9 - 1 9 2 9 ........................ 89 T o G u y E a r l .................................... 3 6 4 O ur Beta Stars ............................... 37 2

G e o lo g ist

Beta Service ..................................... 2 1

486

Funeral Hym n ............................... 170

W alter M a lloy Ohio State ’ 06 M a n a g e r , T elep h o n e Com pany

A n A lum ni G r e e t i n g ................... 365 Is T h a t S o ? .......................................365 Colum bus Luncheon C a l l ............ 367 Thom as Dabney M arshall Mississippi ’ 82

In Business; C o n v en tion delegate 1903

A lp h a Om ega .................................. 98 Edward W arlock M um ford Pennsylvania ’ 89

Lawyer} C o n v en tio n delegate 1882, 1885; C o n v en tio n P oet 188 5} C o n v en tio n V ice-P resident 1885

U niversity Bursar

T h e C ircle o f Phi ........................ 115

T h e T o u rn ey Prize (Convention Poem ) .......................................303 A N ig h t in N o r s e la n d ................... 443 T h e T r y s t ......................................... 444 Persephone .......................................445 T rio le ts .................................... 446-447 George Frederick M cK a y Washington State ’ 22 M usician

Gam m a T h e t a ..................................120 Richard M cK a y W hitman ’ 16

W illiam Bernard Norton Northwestern ’ 80 C le r g y m a n ; R eligio u s Editor

D efend T h y Shrine ...................... 75 Sunset and Sunrise ........................ 373 W illiam Benjamin Parmelee Western Reserve *83 E lectricia n ; Charter M em ber W estern Reserve reviva l 18815 C o n v en tio n delegate 1882; D o n o r o f the W i ll i a m B. Parm elee Fund

Beta T h eta P i .................................. 24 Samuel Shaw Parks Amherst ’ 88

E lectrical E n gin e er

L a w yer

A W hitm an T o ast ........................ 121

T h e M eaning o f Beta T h eta P i. . 226 Francis B all Pearson Wooster ’ 85

Samuel M erw in Northwestern ’ oo E d ito r and A u tho r

T h e Boys o f T h ir ty N i n e ..........179

State School Superintendent; E d ­ ito r; District Chief

G ran ville Ohio ............................... 103 W o o glin and His D o r g .............. 150

D avid Reed M ille r M onm outh *74 E d it o r ; C le r g y m a n

Beta W a r S o n g ............................... 82 C o llege Hash ..................................378 T o M y O ld Room-mate ............ 447 M e lv ille Winans M ille r D ePauw ’ 78 L a w y e r ; Assistant Secretary o f the In terior

W illiam H . Perry Syracuse ’ 62 Journalist

A n Invocation Hym n o f M ystic S e v e n .........................................125 Charles H icklen Preston Iow a ’ 69 P hysician

T h e Full-O rbed G r e e k .................233

D ear O ld Beta Band ...................

28

A . J. Gustin Priest Idaho ’ 15

D avid Hastings M oore Ohio ’ 6 o

L aw yer

Bishop o f the M ethodist Episcopal C h u rch; M em ber o f Board o f D i ­ rectors o f the Fraternity 187918 8 0 ; C o n v en tio n delegate 1858, 18 6 7, 1 8 7 0 ; C o n v e n tio n Secretary

1858 F a ir, F a ir B e t a Beta O ur B r i d e L et A ll Stand T o g e t h e r T h e P artin g P l e d g e

Robert Brainard M oseley Dartm outh ’ 04

T h e Colors ......................................

James Francis Augustine Pyre Wisconsin ’ 92

50

P rofessor o f E n glish Literature

...12 ...16 ...80 ...85

T h e Boys o f A lp h a P i .................122 A rthur Hobson Quinn Pennsylvania ’ 94 Professor o f E n glish

O ur Y outh

...................................... 450

C arroll Stuart Ragan Wabash ’ o i Publicity Manager T o the Scarlet ............................... 119

L aw yer; Dean District C h ief

of

Law

School;

O ur B adge .......................................

43

Louis Frederick R u f Rutgers ’ 85

W yllys C adw ell Ransom M ichiga n ’48 Railroad Official; Convention del­ egate 1848, 1873, 1875, 1880; Convention President 1873, 1875, 1880, 1883; Convention VicePresident 1879, 1894; Conven­ tion Secretary 1848; Director 1879-1885, 1894-1897 (Chairman of Board 1895-1897); Founder of Kansas Chapter; on Alpha Sigma Chi Commission; Ritualist W o o g lin F orever ...........................268

C lergy m an

R ough W eather on W ooglin D o ck ......................................... 377 Richard Brown Scandrett, Jr. Am herst ’ i 1 Lawyer

T o the Undergraduates ..............

67

Frank H am line Scott Northnvestern ’ 76

W illis Oscar Robb Ohio Wesleyan ’ 79 Insurance Executive; Convention delegate 1877, 1878, 1881, 1882, 1883; Convention Assistant Sec­ retary 1878; Convention Presi­ dent 1896, 1905, 1908; Conven­ tion Vice-President 1901; Editor of “ Beta Theta Pi” 1878-1880 and 1884-1885; Director 1884-1889; Trustee 1897-1903; President of the Fraternity 1903-1906.

T h e M arch o f the T e n Thousand 360 Sonnet .................................................450 P r i s c i l l a .............................................. 451 W here Bundy H eld the Paris Road ......................................... 451 T h e Lost A n g e l ............................. 452 St U r b a n ............................................455

L a w y e r ; C o n v en tio n V ice-P resi­ dent 18 8 8 ; C o n v en tio n O rator 1 8 9 3 ; M em ber o f Board o f D irec­ tors 1892-3

T h e Beta M arseillaise .................

18

Charles John Seaman Denison *71 M e rch an t; C o nvention delegate 1869, 1870, 1 8 7 1 , 1872, 18 8 1, 1882, 1883, 1884, 1886, 1887, 188 8; Editor of So n g B o ok 1 8 7 2 ; E d ito r o f Catalogue 188 2; C o n ­ vention V ice-President 1872, 1 8 7 7 , 18 8 3 ; on A lp h a Sigma Chi Commission

A Banquet S o n g .............................

T h e A lum ni’s R e t u r n ...................

66 73

Francis Wayland Shefardson Denison ’ 82

K enneth W hitney Rogers Syracuse ’ 17 Assistant on Beta Theta Pi Cata­ logue 19x7; Convention delegate 1916; Convention Secretary 1919-1920 O ld Beta’s Praise ........................... 28 T h e Beta C h o r u s ........................... 31 M arch in g A l o n g ............................. 34 T o the Pled ge ................................ 36 T h e Beta S t a r s ................................ 39 T h e Sons o f the D r a g o n ............ 54 M y Beta G i r l .................................. 60 T h e Land o f Canine ....................148 A T o a s t .............................................. 171 T h e D o lp h in .................................... 373 T h e L i g h t ......................................... 456 James Alexander Rohbach Western Reserve ’ 84

P rofessor o f H is to ry; C o nvention Secretary 1 8 8 2 ; C o nvention P resi­ dent 1 9 2 0 ; on E ditorial Staff of B eta T h eta P i 1883-1893 and 1 9 1 7 - 1 9 3 6 , being Editor-in-Ch ief 1 9 1 7 - 1 9 3 1 ; District C h ie f; T r u s ­ tee o f the Fraternity 1 9 0 6 -19 0 7 ; G en era l Secretary 1907-1917; P resident 1 9 1 8 - 1 9 3 —; E d ito r o f “ T h e Beta B o o k ” 1 9 2 7 , 1930, 19 3 5 > “ Beta L o r e ” 1 9 2 8 ; “ Beta L i f e ” 1 9 2 9 ; “ Beta Bards” 1 9 3 6 ; “ Beta K in s h ip ” 1 9 3 6 ; Editor o f “ C a talog u e o f Beta T h e t a P i I 9 3 3 ” > E d ito r o f “ B aird ’s M an u al o f A m erican C o lle g e Fraternities” 1 9 2 7 , 1930, 1 9 3 5 ; C o n v en tion delegate 1882, 1892.

The Sons The The

Sacred S h r i n e ........................

9 o f the S t a r s ............................. 19 42 Initiate and the Badge Badge I W ear ...................... 44

My Beta Dad and I .................... 57

488

Beta Friendship ............................. 220 T h e L o s t ............................................362 B uild in g for B e t a ...........................372

D ip lo m a t and F in a n cier; C o n v e n ­ tion delegate 1906

M em ories

Architect

P ro fesso r of H is to ry; C o n v en tio n delegate 1886, 1887, 1888, 1889, 1 8 9 4 ; D istrict C h ie f; C o n v en tio n Secretary 1 8 8 7 ; C a talog u e Secre­ tary 1 8 9 2 -1 8 9 3 ; K eep er o f the R o l ls 1 8 9 3 - 1 8 9 6 ; D irector 18931895

Lam bda Rho Chapter Song . . . .

93

Herbert Taylor Stephens Ohio State ’ 88 C lergym an and Professor o f T h e ­ o lo g y ; Charter M em ber T h e ta D e lta Chapter

O ld C a m b rid g e to w n ...................... 4 5 7 T o C o lu m b u s .................................. 4 5 7

O ur Brotherhood ........................... 16 Joseph Osgood Stillson Hanover *71

Francis H inckley Sisson K n o x ’ 92

P h y s ic ia n ;

B a n k e r ; E d it o r; C o n v en tion dele­ g ate 1891; G en eral Treasurer 18 9 8 - 18 9 9 ; G en era l Secretary 1 8 9 9 - 1 9 0 7 ; Trustee, 18 9 7-18 98 , 1 9 0 7 - 1 9 1 2 , 1 9 1 8 - 1 9 1 9 ; President 1 9 1 2 - 1 9 1 8 ; C o n v en tio n President 1 9 1 0 ; C o n v en tio n P o e t 1896

C o nvention

delegate

1870 T h ere’s A S c e n e ............................. 67 W ilbur Fiske Stone D ePauw ’ 57 L a w y e r and Judge

L ove Song— M eeting on the Sly 63

T h e Beta D r a g o n ........................... 53 In M em ory o f John R eily K n o x . 184 T h e Legend o f W o o g l i n ............ 354

George Franklin Strickling North Dakota ’ 25 M usician

M y Beta M o t h e r ............................. 57 A Senior F a r e w e l l ........................ 112

Elias Asabel Sm ith Utah ’ 11 C o n v e n tio n delegate 1 9 1 3

John Low ry Gibson Stuart Toronto ’ 08

Gam m a B e t a .................................... 118

E n gin e er

Ralph Parsons Smith Denison ’ 88

T h eta Zeta ...................................... 1 1 7

C le r g y m a n

Lawrence W ardell Swan M ia m i ’ 0 7

T h e C ro w S o n g ............................. 81 A n I n itia tio n .................................... 204

In vestm en ts; C o n v en tion delegate 1906

Forrest Lindsay Sower Idaho ’ n

H ym n o f A l p h a .............................n o Joseph M arshall Tew inkel Whitman ’ 23

U . S. R eclam atio n Service official

Fires o f T ru e F r ie n d s h ip ............ 143

T eacher

Charles Silvey Sprague D enison ’ 86

Under Western S k i e s ................... 1 2 1 Edw ard Gaskin Thom as Colorado C ollege ’ 2 4

delegate

T h e Chapter M e e t in g ...................

71

M erch an t

Beta H om ecom ing ........................ 3 6 6

W illiam Cyrus Sprague D enison ’ 81

Charles Clay Trabue Vanderbilt ’ 92

Law yer; C o n v e n tio n delegate 1 8 8 1, 188 8; D istrict C h ie f; E d i ­ torial Staff Beta T h eta P i 1882, 1885

F our

83

Harry Russell Stapp Chicago ’ 12

W ilbur Henry Siebert Ohio State ’ 85

E d it o r ; C o n v en tio n 18 8 6 ; D istrict C h ie f

.........................................

Years and M ore H ave Gone .........................................

Law yer; C o n v en tio n delegate 1 8 9 2 ; C o n v en tio n secretary 1892

T h e Beta R o s e ...............................

98

51

Joseph Salathiel Tunison Denison ’ 73

Jordan Herbert Stabler Johns-Hopkins ’ 0 7

Jo urnalist; A u tho r

Gemma N o s t r a ...............................

489

40

B eta D o x o l o g y ................................ 77 T h e L ittle Green S n a k e ...............217

Charles Stetson W heeler California ’ 84 Law yer;

A rthur W heelock Upson M innesota ’ 98 P ro fesso r Poet

of

E n glish ;

A uthor;

Athenian E p i g r a m ...........................458 D a v id Joseph Varnes Case ’ 10 Lam bda K ap p a S o n g .................... 92

L a w y e r and Ju dge

............................... 160

Henry Cady W hite Stevens ’ 81 M ech anical E n gin e er

Henry W alter W ilhelm Cornell ’ 80

E d it o r ; C o n v e n tio n delegate 1879

82

W illiam Henry W ait Northwestern ’ 79 P ro fesso r of M o d e r n L an gu a ges

M anus L a e t a ..................................... 18

C i v i l E n gin e er

Beta D e l t a .........................................

98

Ebissa Grainger W illiam s Davidson ’ 33 A t the Beta S h r in e ........................

74

Sylvester Genin W illiam s Ohio Wesleyan ’ 77

Charles D uy W alker Virginia M ilitary ’ 69

L a w y ers

C lergym an;

C o n v e n tio n delegate 1872, 1876; C o n v en tio n Secretary 1872; C o n v e n tio n President 18765 G en eral Secretary 18721873; F ou n der and First E d ito r o f B eta T h eta P i 1872

Editor

Beta

Theta

Pi

1879-1883; Director 1880-1883 T h e B urning o f the D ragon . . . .255 Meminisse Juvabit ........................ 460 A n A c r o s t ic ...................................... 461

W o o g lin ’s Christmas S o n g ..........180

Samuel Eladsit W illiam son Western Reserve ’ 64

Sam uel Lawrence W ard Wabash ’ 73

Law yer

O ur Founders ..................................181

C le r g y m a n and M issionary

80

Samuel Newton W ilson Hanover ’ 72 Presbyterian C le r g y m a n ; First o f three Beta generations

Frederick Raynsford Warner B eloit ’ 12

M y Beta D ays ............................... 22 T h e Praise o f B e t a ........................ 23 Beta R o c k .........................................104 W o o g lin ’s M e s s a g e ........................ 138

Insurance

Beta Sweetheart .............................

88

A lum ni C a l l .................................... 116

M e lv ille M c K e e Vaughan Centre ’ 78

T h e J o lly G r e e k s ...........................

delegate

A red Frazier W hite D ePauw ’ 67 F arew ell Song

Teacher

T h e P a rtin g H o u r ........................

C o n v en tio n

1884 O m ega’s H y m n ...............................

62

W illiam Turner W hedon M ichigan *81 M an u factu rer

Charles Augustus Young Western Reserve ’ 53

L ife ......................................................458 T h e Seasons .................................... 458

A s tr o n o m e r ; U n iversity Professor

H eart and H a n d .............................

490

14

IN D E X Abraham and E p h r a im ......................421 A B allad o f S ta te s ............................... 401 A Banquet S o n g .................................. 66 A Beta Sweetheart’s A n s w e r ............ 62 A Beta’s W e lc o m e ............................... 71 A Collection o f D eath M a s k s ..........439 A C o n tr a s t..............................................385 A Convention S k i t ............................. 282 A D o g T a le ......................................... 158 A D r e a m ................................................ 263 A Fitchianism .......................................361 A F o u n t a in ........................................... 260 A L a J a r d in ie r e .................................. 52 A L eap-Y ear L i l t ............................... 63 A Legend o f the D o r g ......................144 A M em ory o f the B a l l ......................441 A N igh t in N o r s e la n d ........................ 443 A Reminiscence o f the P a s t ............ 253 A Rhyme o f the T i m e ......................253 A Roundelay o f R h y m e ................... 397 A R ubaiyat o f Beta T h e ta P i . . . . 244 A Senior F arew ell ............................. 112 A Serenade ........................................... 66 A Song o f Battle ............................... 96 A Song o f B ro th e r h o o d ...................

9 A Song fo r S u m m e r ...........................434 A T h e ta D elta M a n ...........................114 A T o ast to C o lu m b ia ........................ 95 A T o a st to the F l e e t ........................ 171 A T o ast to the F r a te r n ity .................250 A T o ast to K n o x ............................... 172 A W hitm an T o a s t ............................. 121 A W inter M o r n i n g ............................. 382 A d Licinium .........................................416 A fte r M an y Y e a r s ............................. 396 A lp h a E ta S o n g ..................................101 A lp h a M arching S o n g ......................n o A lp h a O m e g a ....................................... 98 A lp h a Zeta ........................................... 104 A lum ni C a ll ......................................... 116 A n A c r o s t ic ........................................... 25 A n A c r o s t ic ........................................... 461 A n A lum ni G reeting ........................ 365 A n Episode o f W o o g l i n ................... 377 A n I n it ia t io n ......................................... 204 A n Interfraternity E p is o d e .............. 360 A n Invocation H ym n o f M ystic S e v e n ............................................. 125

A n Odious Ode .................................... 377 A n Ohio Reunion P o e m ................... 210 A n O ld -T im e Beta P arting Song . 1 9 7 A re A ll the Betas In ? ......................137 A s Betas N o w W e M e e t ................. 70 A t the Beta H o u s e ............................... 78 A t the Beta S h r in e ............................. 74 A t S a r a to g a ........................................... 272 A t the Western W in d o w ................... 405 A t W o r k ................................................ 449 Athenian E p ig r a m s .............................458 A tlantis .................................................. 393 Beauty C l a r e .........................................470 Benedictus .............................................. 76 Beta A lp h a Com ing I n ......................106 Beta D a y s .............................................. 25 Beta D e l t a .............................................. 98 Beta D o x o lo g y .................................... 77 Beta Fragm ents ..................................373 Beta F rie n d sh ip .................................... 13 Beta F rie n d sh ip ....................................220 Beta G a m m a .........................................115 Beta G i r l s ............................................. 61 Beta H o m e co m in g ............................... 366 Beta M em ories .................................... 29 Beta Memories ....................................201 Beta M others ....................................... 56 Beta O ur B r i d e .................................... 16 Beta R o c k ..............................................104 Beta Service ......................................... 21 Beta Sister S o n g .................................. 58 Beta Sires and Beta S o n s ................... 55 Beta Sweetheart .................................. 62 Beta T h e ta D o g P i e .......................... 156 Beta T h eta M arching S o n g ............ 94 Beta T w i n s ........................................... 363 Beta T h eta P i ...................................... 24 Beta T h eta Pi— A S o n n e t................. 12 Beta W a r S o n g .................................... 82 Betas o f L o n g A g o .............................160 Beta’s Bonds ......................................... 14 Beta’s E m b le m s .................................... 41 B uilding for B e t a ............................... 372 B u rial o f Joel B a t t l e ........................ 242 C arve T h a t C a n in e .............................147 Cedar C r e e k ........................................... 284

491

Cerberus .................................................153 C h allenge .............................................. 140 Chapter C h i ......................................... 86 Chau— T a u — Q u a u ............................. 375 Cheer, Betas, Cheer ........................... 29 C hi Chapter M arch ........................... 87 C o llege Hash ....................................... 378 C o llege T r a d i t i o n s ............................. 476 Colum bus Luncheon C a l l ................. 367 Come B ack, Come B ack to Gam bier 108 Consecration .......................................... 76

H e W orried A bout I t ........................ 423 H orae H o r a tia n a e ............................... 472 H ym n o f A l p h a ..................................n o I f I Could Sing as Sappho Sang. . .389 In Beta’s N a m e .................................... 27 In Beta T h e ta P i ............................... 15 In M em ory— H . D . H ....................... 161 In M em ory o f John R eily K n o x . . 184 In M y D esk .........................................408 In O ld Chi ........................................... 86 In Phi K a i P h i .................................... 20 In the Beta Sort O ’ W a y .................364 In the O ld Porch C h a i r s ................. 17 Indianapolis A lum ni A p p e a l ..........368 Inscription for a Fraternity House D o or .............................................. 78 Invitin g the Hearse, T h e Conven­ tion in V e r s e ............................... 275 Is T h a t So? ........................................... 365

D a w n ..................................................... 347 D ea r O ld Beta B a n d ........................... 28 D ea r Phi C h i .......................................124 D efend T h y Shrine ........................... 75 D on Francisco S t u a r t o ......................167 D o rg g e re l .............................................. 158 D w ig h t M o rro w ’s D o g ................... 373 E ach in H is O w n T o n g u e .............. 406 E pigram s From T h e I r i s h ...............465 Eumenes .................................................4 17

Jam D ies C a r p t i ..................................194 K eats ....................................................... 415

F a ir, F a ir B e t a .................................... 12 F a m e ........................................................ 390 F a rew ell Song .....................................160 Fires o f T ru e F r ie n d s h ip ................. 143 F o u r Y ears and M ore H ave G one. 98 F o rty ’s R o m a n c e .................................. 431 F ratern al Sym pathy ...........................190 F r a te r n ita s .............................................. 10 F ratern ity .............................................. 10 F ratern ity .............................................. 239 F raternity .............................................. 352 F r ie n d s h ip .............................................. 381 From the Germ an o f K a r l Siebel. .463 Funeral H ym n ............ ....................... 170

Lam bda Banquet S o n g ......................i n Lam bda Chapter S o n g ......................i n Lam bda K appa S o n g ........................ 92 Lam bda Rho Chapter S o n g ............ 93 L ’A m our Seul Est P a r f a i t .............. 407 L et A ll Stand T o g e t h e r ................... 80 L et Us Be H appy T o n i g h t .............. 72 L ife ..........................................................458 L ife and D e a t h .................................... 383 L ife— D eath .........................................414 L o ve’s Return ...................................... 439 Love Song— M eeting on the S ly . . . 63

G am m a T h e t a ....................................... 120 Gemma Nostra ..................................... 40 G r a n v i l l e .................................................102 G ra n ville, O h i o .................................... 103 Grass v a l e .................................................428 Gunsaulus .............................................. 165 H arbor S o n g ......................................... 268 H eart and H a n d .................................. 14 H eart and H a n d .................................. 30 H e in e ........................................................ 390 H enry W . L o n g f e l l o w ......................387 H er G loves ............................................392 He W as M y F r i e n d ...........................384

M arch in g A lo n g ............................... 34 M arch in g S o n g .................................... 34 M anus L a e t a ......................................... 18 Memento A w a r e .................................. 13 Meminisse J u v a b it ............................... 460 M em non ................................................ 309 M e m o r ia ls ..............................................393 M em ories .............................................. 83 M iam i— M other o f B e t a .................182 M id n igh t I n t r u d e r ............................. 148 M ilitan t Beta ...................................... 84 M usin g ...................................................443 M y Beta D ad and I .......................... 57 M y Beta D ays .................................... 22 M y Beta G irl ...................................... 59

492

M y Beta G i r l ....................................... 60 M y Beta M o t h e r .................................. 57 M y Cousin B e lin d a ............................. 465 M ystic Seven Odes A n Invocation H y m n ................... 125 T h e F a r e w e l l ..................................127 T h e H appy D ays o f O l d ............ 125 T h e M ystic S t a r ............................. 126 ’Neath the Elm s at O ld M iam i . . . . 1 8 2 N e’er M a y Name o f Beta Fade . . . . 31 N o Hope F o r E nglish L iterature. .425 Nu C h a p t e r ........................................... 118 Ode T o T h e G r e e k s ...........................320 O ld Beta’s Praise ............................... 28 O ld C a m b rid g e to w n ...........................457 O ld C o m r a d e s .......................................191 O ld Rho ................................................ 113 O l’ M an W o o glin ............................. 142 Om ega, 1 8 7 9 - 1 9 2 9 ............................. 89 O m ega’s H y m n .................................... 88 On a Silver C u p ..................................449 On T h e H e ig h t s ..................................391 On the Veranda ..................................471 Once ....................................................... 383 One to A n o t h e r .................................... 400 O Song T h a t L a s t s ............................. 166 O ur Badge ........................................... 43 O ur Beta Stars .................................... 372 O ur Brotherhood ............................... 16 O u r Colors ........................................... 49 O u r D ead ..............................................169 O ur F o u n d e r s ...................................... 181 O ur O ld Beta Home ........................ 79 O u r Silver G r a y s ............................... 185 O u r Y outh ........................................... 450 O w ed to B o s t o n ..................................474 P artin g Song ....................................... 85 P e rsep h o n e..............................................445 Phi Chi M arch in g ............................. 123 Philabeta ................................................ 30 Pledge to Beta T h eta P i ................. 69 P r i s c i l l a ...................................................450 Progressive E u c h r e ............................. 65 Raise a Song o f Breath Sublime . .464 R eading H om er ..................................434 Recessional ........................................... 180 R e co m p e n se ........................................... 395 R egret ..................................................... 391 R e u n io n ...................................................185

Reunion Song ...................................... 195 Riches H ave W i n g s ...........................384 Roses ....................................................... 392 Rough W eather on W ooglin D ock . 377 Sam W alter F o s s ............................... 164 September ..............................................442 S h ak sp ere................................................ 437 Sherman, W . T ..................................... 169 She W ears M y Beta P i n ................. 64 Shipwreck ............................................. 4 14 Silver G ra y to Silver G r a y ............ 193 Six Sonnets ........................................... 435 Song o f the G r e e k s .......................... 14 Song o f the Silver G r a y ................... 192 Sonnet .....................................................450 Sons o f the Stars ............................... 19 St U r b a n ................................................ 455 St U r b a n ................................................ 456 Sub R o s a ................................................463 Sunset and S u n r is e .............................373 Tennyson ..............................................438 T h a t O ld Fraternity P i n .................479 T h e A lum ni’s R e t u r n ........................ 73 T h e A lum ni’s R e t u r n ........................ 371 T h e Bachelor’s G u e s t ........................ 468 T h e Badge I W e a r ............................. 44 T h e Banquet H a ll ............................. 65 T h e B e s t ................................................ 441 T h e Beta D in n e r ..................................261 T h e Beta D r a g o n ............................... 53 T h e Beta F la g and S o n g .................262 T h e Beta G r a c e s ................................. 40 T h e Beta G rip .................................... 17 T h e Beta M a r s e illa is e ........................ 18 T h e Beta Post S c r i p t ........................ 58 T h e Beta R o c k ....................................108 T h e Beta R o s e ...................................... 51 T h e Beta Shrine .................................. 68 T h e Beta Stars .................................... 39 T h e Beta V o y a g e ............................... 22 T h e Betas in B o h e m ia ......................241 T h e Boys o f A lp ha P i ......................122 T h e Boys o f T h irty N i n e .................179 T h e Burning o f the D r a g o n ..........255 T h e Cam ion C a r a v a n ........................ 381 T h e Chapter House S t e p s ................. 33 T h e Chapter M eeting ...................... 71 T h e Chicago B a n q u e t........................ 370 T h e C ircle o f P h i ............................... 115 T h e C ollege P r i m e r .......................... 159 T h e C o l o r s ........................................... 50

493

T h e Convention D a n c e ......................270 T h e Convention Poem , 1 8 7 8 ..........284.

T h e Convention Poem , 1 8 8 3 ..........300 T h e Convention Poem , 1 8 8 5 ..........303 T h e Convention Poem , 1 8 8 7 ..........309 T h e Convention Poem , 1888 ..........317 T h e Convention Poem , 1 8 9 0 ..........320 T h e Convention Poem, 1891 ..........329 T h e Convention Poem, 1 8 9 2 ..........339 T h e Convention Poem , 1 8 9 3 ..........343 T h e Convention Poem , 1 8 9 4 ..........347 T h e Convention Poem , 1 8 9 5 ..........352 T h e Convention Poem , 1 8 9 6 ..........354 T h e Convention Poem , 1 8 9 7 ..........357 T h e C ro w Song- .................................. 81 T h e D eath o f Constance .................410 T h e D o r g - .............................................. 146 T h e D riftin g D a y s ............................. 189 T h e E l e v e n ............................................407 T h e F a ll o f the E v e n i n g ................. 404 T h e F itch W e K n e w ...........................167 T h e F leetin g Y ears ...........................186 T h e Friendship o f L e a r n i n g ............ 256 T h e H am let o f Hocus Po ...............424 T h e House on the H i l l ......................io x T h e Initiate and the B a d g e ............ 42 T h e Initiate’s G r e e t i n g ...................... 36 T h e J o lly G r e e k s ................................ 80 T h e L and o f C a n i n e ...........................148 T h e Legend o f B e e - T a h ................. . 229 T h e Legend o f W o o g lin .................134 T h e Legend o f W o o g lin ................. 354 T h e Links T h a t Bind U s ................. 155 T h e L ittle Green S n a k e ................... 2 17 T h e L o ve S e t .......................................441 T h e L o v in g Cup ................................ 33 T h e L o s t .................................................362 T h e Lost A n g e l .................................. 452 T h e M aid o f the M i s t ......................394 T h e M arch o f the T en Thousand. . 360 T h e M eaning o f Beta T h eta Pi . . .226 T h e M en W ho M iss the T ra in . . .420 T h e N e w ly C h o s e n ............................. 37 T h e N i g h t i n g a le .................................. 405 T h e O ld Chapter H a l l ...................... 74 T h e P artin g H o u r ............................. 82 T h e P artin g Pled ge ........................... 85 T h e P ink and Blue ........................... 45 T h e P ink and B l u e ............................. 46 T h e Praise o f B e t a ............................. 23 T h e Response ....................................... 177 T h e Sacred Shrine .............................

9 T h e Sacred T r y s t ................................ 75

T h e Seasons......................................... 458 T h e Silent P o e t .................................. 412 T he Silver G r a y ................................ 191 T h e Silver Grays .............................. 94 T he Song Unsung ........................... 4 11 T he Sons o f the D r a g o n .................. 54 T h e Spirited .......................................477 T h e S p h in x ......................................... 413 T h e Three S t a r s ................................ 38 T h e T rip le Stars .............................. 39 T h e T ollbridge K e e p e r .................. 419 T h e Tourney Prize ......................... 303 The T ru m p e ts.................................... 429 T h e T r y s t ........................................... 444 The University of C a lifo r n ia ......... 475 T h e Useless Fraternity M an ......... 478 T h e Wish-Star .................................. 404 T h e W ooing of the W in d s ........... 466 T here’s A Scene ................................ 67 Theta F i r e s ......................................... 114 Theta Zeta ......................................... 117 This D ay ........................................... 440 Toast to Beta .................................... 32 T o Beta Sons .................................... 55 T o Columbus .................................... 457 T o Friendship’s T i e ......................... 24 T o Guy E a r l .......................................364 T o His B a d g e .................................... 44 T o John G. W h itt ie r .......................405 T o Juno ............................................. 402 T o M y Old R o o m -M a te ................ 447 T o M y O w n .......................................463 T o Omega ......................................... 91 T o Rose ............................................. 392 T o Sam: B e t a .................................... 106 T o the Beta G irl ............................. 60 T o the P le d g e .................................... 36 T o the Pledgeling ........................... 35 T o the S c a r le t.................................... 119 T o the U n d ergrad u ate.................... 67 T ow n and C o u n tr y ........................... 427 T r io le t s .......................................446, 447 T ruth .................................................. 418 T w o Chords in a M inor K ey . . . . 395 T w o Songs ......................................... 432 Under T he R o s e ................................ 462 Under Western S k ie s ......................... 121 V o y a g in g ............................................. 475 W atching the Silver G r a y s ..............254 We Gather A gain ........................... 69

494

W e’ll A lw a y s H an g T o g e th er . . . . 81 W heeler at S a n t ia g o .......................... 433 W hen Bundy H eld the Paris R o a d . 451 W hen C laribel S i n g s ........................ 439 W hen G reek M eets G r e e k .................188 W hen G reek M eets G r e e k .................478 W hen Poets Sang ............................... 389 W hen W inter S h r ie k s ........................ 382 W illia m D allam A r m e s ......................166 W i n t e r ..................................................... 427 W i n t e r ..................................................... 440 W ith the Beta G irl ........................... 61

W ith M iles B e tw e e n .......................... 435 W ooglin and His D o r g ......................150 W o o glin and the D o g ........................ 129 W o o g lin ’s Christmas S o n g ...............180 W o o glin Forever ............................... 268 W o o g lin ’s G reeting .......................... 270 W o o g lin ’s M e s s a g e .............................138 W o o g lin ’s Ode ....................................143 W o o glin ’s Son in V i s i o n ................... 108 W o o g lin ’s S o u l ....................................137 W ooglin to the P l e d g e ...................... 35

495