Yale Harvard Choral Concert le Harv
Radcli e Choral Society
Harvard Glee Club Yale Glee Club
friday, november 21, 2025
woolsey hall, yale university
Laudamus te, benedicimus te, adoramus te, glorificamus te.
Radcliffe Choral Society
Hana Cai, Associate Director of Choral Activities
Justin Blackwell, Pianist i.
Laudamus Te from Gloria Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741)
We praise you, we bless you, we worship you, we glorify you.
Invitation to Love Marques Garrett (b.1984)
Come when the nights are bright with stars Or when the moon is mellow; Come when the sun his golden bars Drops on the hay-field yellow. Come in the twilight soft and gray, Come in the night or come in the day, Come, O love, whene’er you may, And you are welcome, welcome.
You are sweet, O Love, dear Love, You are soft as the nesting dove. Come to my heart and bring it rest As the bird flies home to its welcome nest.
Come when my heart is full of grief Or when my heart is merry; Come with the falling of the leaf Or with the redd’ning cherry. Come when the year’s first blossom blows, Come when the summer gleams and glows, Come with the winter’s drifting snows, And you are welcome, welcome.
Si te quiero es porque sos mi amor, mi cómplice y todo
Y en la calle codo a codo somos mucho más que dos.
Tus manos son mi caricia, mis acordes cotidianos.
te amo porque en tus manos trabajan por la justicia.
Tus ojos son mi conjuro contra la mala jornada
Te quiero por tu mirada, que mira y siembra future.
Tu boca que es tuya y mía, tu boca no se equivoca
te quiero porque tu boca sabe gritar rebeldía.
Y por tu rostro sincero y tu paso vagabundo
y tu llanto por el mundo, porque sos pueblo te quiero.
y porque amor no es aureola ni candida moraleja.
y porque somos pareja que sabe que no está sola.
Te quiero en mi paraiso, es decir que en mi país
la gente viva feliz, aunque no tenga permiso.
If I adore you, it is because you are my love, my intimate friend, my all; And in the street, arm in arm, we are so much more than two.
Your hands are my caress, my daily affirmations.
I love you because your hands work for justice.
Your eyes are my lucky charm against misfortune.
I adore you for your gaze that looks to and creates the future.
Your mouth is yours and mine, Your mouth is never mistaken: I love you because your mouth Knows how to cry out for rebellion.
And for your sincere face and wandering spirit and your weeping for the world, because you are the people, I love you.
and because our love is neither famous nor naive.
and because we are a couple that knows we are not alone.
I want you in my paradise, which is to say, in my country.
The people to live happily, even though they aren’t allowed to!
This
is the Day
Gerald T. Smith
This is the day that the Lord has made: I will rejoice and be glad in it.
Enter His gates with thanksgiving, into His courts with praise. I will rejoice; I will rejoice. I will rejoice and be glad in it.
Enter His gates with thanksgiving, into His courts with praise.
This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice, rejoice, rejoice and be glad in it, and be glad in it.
For the rising of the sun till the going down of the same.
This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice, rejoice, rejoice and be glad in it, and be glad in it.
He’s worthy of the glory.
He’s worthy of the honor.
This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice, rejoice, rejoice and be glad in it.
Halelujah, Halelujah rejoice!
This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice, rejoice rejoice and be glad, and be glad in it. I will rejoice rejoice!
Aide Sance Zaide
Aide, sance zaide megu dve planini nane more, aide, sance
Zaide megu dve planini.
Aide zad planini zelenolivade nane more aide, zad planini, zelenolivade.
Traditional Bulgarian song
Go down, bright sun
Between two mountains, dear mother. Go down, sun
Set between two mountains.
Behind the mountains, green meadows. Dear mother.
Behind the mountains, green meadows.
Harvard Glee Club
Brandon Straub, Resident Conductor and Pianist ii.
Andrew Clark, Director of Choral Activities
De Profundis Leevi Madetoja (1887–1947)
De profundis clamavi ad te Domine
Domine exaudi vocal mea.
Fiant aures tuae intendentes, in vocem deprecationis meae.
From the depths, I have cried out to you, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my supplication.
–Psalm 130:1–2
Alto Rhapsody Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)
Preston McNulty-Socha, countertenor
Andrew Courtney & Brandon Straub, pianists
Aber abseits wer ist’s?
Im Gebüsch verliert sich der Pfad.
Hinter ihm schlagen
Die Sträuche zusammen,
Das Gras steht wieder auf,
Die Öde verschlingt ihn.
Ach, wer heilet die Schmerzen
Des, dem Balsam zu Gift ward?
Der sich Menschenhaß
Aus der Fülle der Liebe trank?
Erst verachtet, nun ein Verächter, Zehrt er heimlich auf
Seinen [eignen] Wert
In [ung’nugender] Selbstsucht.
Ist auf deinem Psalter, Vater der Liebe, ein Ton
Seinem Ohre vernehmlich, So erquicke sein Herz!
Öffne den umwölkten Blick
Über die tausend Quellen
Neben dem Durstenden
In der Wüste!
But who is that apart?
In the underbrush his path loses itself. Behind him the shrubs clap together, The grass stands up again, The wasteland engulfs him.
Ah, who heals the pains
Of him, for whom balsam became poison?
Who drank hatred of Man
Out of the fullness of love?
First despised, now a despiser, He furtively consumes His own merit
In unsatisfying egotism.
If there is in Thy Psalter, Father of love, one note
To his ear audible, Then refresh his heart!
Open his clouded gaze
To the thousand springs
Next to the thirsting one
In the desert!
–Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)
My Lord What a Mornin’ Traditional Spiritual arr. Reginald Mobley, Baptiste Trotignon, and Susan LaBarr [Refrain]
My Lord, what a morning; My Lord, what a morning; Oh, my Lord, what a morning, When the stars begin to fall, When the stars begin to fall.
You’ll hear the trumpet sound, To wake the nations underground, Looking to my God’s right hand, When the stars begin to fall. [Refrain]
You’ll hear the sinner moan, To wake the nations underground, Looking to my God’s right hand, When the stars begin to fall. [Refrain]
You’ll hear the people shout, To wake the nations underground, Looking to my God’s right hand, When the stars begin to fall. [Refrain]
Which Side Are You On?
Florence Reece (1900–1986) Adapted by Windborne [Refrain]
Which side are you on?
Which side are you on?
Come all of you good workers
Good news to you I’ll tell Of how the good ol’ union Has come in here to dwell [Refrain]
My daddy was a miner And I’m a miner’s son And I’ll stick with the union ‘Til every battle’s won [Refrain] They say in Harlan County There are no neutrals there
You’ll either be a union man Or a thug for J. H. Blair [Refrain]
Oh, workers can you stand it?
Oh, tell me how you can Will you be a lousy scab Or will you be a man?
Don’t scab for the bosses
Don’t listen to their lies Us poor folks haven’t got a chance Unless we organize [Refrain]
–Florence
Reece (1900–1986)
These Things Shall Never Die Brandon Williams (b. 1984)
The pure, the bright, the beautiful That stirred our hearts in youth, The impulses to wordless prayer, The streams of love and truth, The longing after something lost, The spirit’s yearning cry, The striving after better hopes— These things can never die.
The timid hand stretched forth to aid A brother in his need; A kindly word in grief’s dark hour
That proves a friend indeed; The plea for mercy softly breathed, When justice threatens high, The sorrow of a contrite heart— These things shall never die.
Let nothing pass, for every hand Must find some work to do, Lost not a chance to waken love, Be firm and just and true. So shall a light that cannot fade Beam on thee from on high, And angel voices say to thee— “These things shall never die.”
–Charles Dickens (1812–1870)
Harvard and Radcliffe Football Songs
Yale Glee Club
Jeffrey Douma, conductor iii.
Oggayam Ti Pananabak - A Song of Welcome
World premiere
kabsat a nadayaw, ingkam pay kumablaaw
Kaaddayu ‘tanga aldaw
Dangdang ay si dong ilay, ay ay
Agyaman tay iti Apo
Ta nagsasabat tayu
Napay nag-aaddayu intay nag-aamamu, ay ay Salidummay.
Dangdang ay si dong ilay insinali-salidummay
Nilo Alcala
Honorable brothers/ sisters, We greet you with a warm welcome
On this special day of gathering
Dangdang ay si dong ilay, ay ay.*
Let us thank the Lord For allowing us to gather together
Though we’ve come from different lands
Let us bond and get to know one another
Salidummay*
Dangdang ay si dong ilay* insinali-salidummay*
–Text adapted from a Tingguian/Itneg chant
* Salidummay or Salidommay is a word with no direct translation but is widely used in countless Cordilleran songs that express thanksgiving, worship, and courtship among other positive themes. The phrase “dangdang ay si dong ilay, insinali-salidummay” is commonly heard in songs during festive occasions and celebration.
“Oggayam ti Panganabak (A Song of Welcome)” is an original choral work inspired by a traditional Tingguian/Itneg chant from the Cordillera region of the Philippines. Drawing from the indigenous oggayam—a form of traditional Cordilleran oral poetry—I weave rhythms, vocal inflections, and percussive patterns reminiscent of gongs, bamboo instruments, and the expressive vocal style of oggayam chanters. The text, a heartfelt welcome to guests and strangers, celebrates gratitude, fellowship, and the breaking of boundaries. In a time marked by division and exclusion, this piece resounds as a timely call to human solidarity and shared belonging—an echo of the enduring Filipino spirit of hospitality and unity. –Nilo Alcala
The Firmament Juniper Duncan Winner, 2025 Yale Glee Club Emerging Composers Competition Kevin Vondrak, conductor; Noah Stein, piano the rain-drop who fell to earth leapt from the great green moon and transgressed the curtain of the sea making not a sound we too dove into a foreign ocean forgoing all recompense and witnessed humanity perched upon the leatherback carapace of god
–Juniper Duncan
Winner of the 2025 Emerging Composers Competition at the Yale Glee Club, The Firmament for mixed choir and piano is grounded in a remarkable original text by the composer, Juniper Duncan. The poem inhabits a sense of mythological timelessness while connecting themes of transformation and natural hydrological cycles. Deeply literary in its formulation, it is also thoroughly modern, enabling a personal reading that resonates with the development and growth occurring during college years. All of this hinges on the word “transgress,” which refers not just to a geological process, but also to an empowered sense of individuality.
Duncan, herself a student in library and information science at Simmons University, also constructs a multifaceted musical world. After a ponderous, cloudlike introduction with impressionistic nods to the sound of raindrops, the verse emerges from a churning piano accompaniment of triplet sixteenth notes. The sopranos carry a songlike tune which is harmonized by the other voice parts in tight, vocal jazz-inspired sonorities. The piece culminates at the end of the second verse in a striking combination of poetic vision (“humanity perched upon the leatherback carapace of god”) and complex, shifting harmonies. A brief coda follows, mirroring the introduction, and it is here where the only purely triadic chord is heard (interestingly, on the phrase “making not a sound.”) In a composition full of seventh chords and extended harmonies, this moment itself is conspicuous in its simplicity—a representation of the humility and transcendence of this remarkable new work. –Kevin Vondrak, ysm ’30
America Will Be Joel Thompson (b.1988)
Sophie Dvorak and Yara Chami, soloists
Who are you that mumbles in the dark and who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I’m the one who dreamt a dream while still a serf of kings A dream so strong, so brave, so true that even yet it sings. To build a homeland of the free.
For all the songs we’ve sung, and all the dreams we’ve dreamed, America was never America to me, and yet l swear: America will be!
–Adapted from Langston Hughes’s Let America Be America Again
Give me your tired, your poor
Your huddle masses yearning to be breathe free give me the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these to me! I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
–Adapted from Emma Lazarus’s The New Colossus
Spanish
Yo sueño de un nuevo amanecer.
Sindhala
Mage anagatha sindluwa.
Filipino
Umaasa ako 110 may pagbabago.
Arabic
‘Atamanaa ‘an albashar yatealam an yu hib.
Portuguese
Eu canto porque estou livre.
Mandarin
Wô mèngxiângzhe mêihâo de wèilái
Japanese
Seigi o motomote
German
Ich singe für eine Flucht alus der Welt.
Vietnamese
Còn ủỏc mong hoà bi`nh.
Haitian Creole
Mwen chante pou lapè sou Latè.
I dream of a new dawn.
I sing for the future.
I hope there is a change.
I hope that people can learn to love.
I sing because I am free.
I dream of a better future.
I hope for justice.
I sing for an escape from the world.
I dream of peace.
I sing for peace.
–Words by students from the Freedom High School Chorus, Orlando, Florida
Living in the United States, we contend with contradictory definitions of this nation: America is at once a land of immigrants, a wealth built on enslaved labor, a dream of individual prosperity, a set of colonized lands, and “the land of the free and the home of the brave.”
Joel Thompson’s America Will Be! wrestles with this tension between America’s grandiose ideals and its brutal realities. The work deftly weaves together diverse American voices: sentiments of the multilingual Freedom High School Chorus, Langston Hughes’ Let America Be America Again, and Emma Lazarus’ The New Colossus. Through Thompson’s lyrical (and musical) composition, much of the piece expresses this idea of dissonance.
That said, the song ultimately affirms that America’s ideals will be. Written in 2018, this hopeful conclusion takes on new meanings in 2025, when these ideals feel unattainable []. Hughes, a Black writer amidst the Great Depression, insisted that America’s founding principles “sing,” “even yet” through the hardships of the time, namely racism and poverty. Thompson’s song today echoes Hughes’ original poem; it charges us, as performers, as listeners, and as Americans, to “sing” our convictions in American ideals (such as equality, opportunity, and refuge) until they are. –Creed Gardiner ’26
North Ryan O’Neal (b. 1983)
A song by Sleeping At Last John Raskopf, piano
We will call this place our home
The dirt in which our roots may grow
Though the storms will push and pull
We will call this place our home
We’ll tell our stories on these walls
Every year, measure how tall
And just like a work of art
We’ll tell our stories on these walls
Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind
Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide
Settle our bones like wood over time, over time
Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine
A little broken, a little new
We are the impact and the glue
Capable of more than we know
We call this fixer upper home
With each year, our color fades
Slowly, our paint chips away
But we will find the strength
And the nerve it takes
To repaint and repaint and repaint every day
Smaller than dust on this map
Lies the greatest thing we have:
The dirt in which our roots may grow
And the right to call it home
The world that we live in is large and vast. What do we feel when we find our belonging within it? The artist behind Sleeping at Last, Ryan O’Neal, grounds this feeling through “North” by exploring the meaning we find not in the world at large, but in the specific, personal investments that we make in the spaces we call our own. Unlike the other three songs titled by cardinal directions in his album Atlas: Land, “North” doesn’t grapple with abstract concepts like truth and distance, but rather with the tangible act of defining “home.” This home is signified by the “True North” found within the title—it is a fixed, reliable point of orientation that anchors us against the world’s abstract vastness. George Chung’s choral arrangement reflects this through deliberately simple, soft phrases that gently descend in a push-and-pull motion. His arrangement uses open chords and sparse doublings instead of dense orchestration, where the music’s lightness suggests that the “greatest thing we have” is not a heavy, monumental burden, but a gentle, intimate act where we “repaint” our spaces and “find the strength” to belong. The lyrics then transform the microscopic “dust” on our map to become the center of our universe, and this profound greatness is found not in grandiosity, but in the quiet, foundational right to belong. “North” feels distinctly familiar, as its exceptionally simple melody reflects the “fixer-upper” of a house becoming grounded into the “dirt” of a sacred space. This right is nourished, O’Neal suggests, when we “let our hearts, like doors, open wide.” –Joshua Li ‘26
Didn’t It Rain
Yale Glee Club Chamber singers Kevin Vondrak, conductor iv.
Forty days and forty nights when the rain kept a-fallin’
The wicked climbed the tree and for help kept a-callin’
For they heard the waters wailin’
Didn’t it rain?
Tell me, Noah, didn’t it rain?
Some climbed the mountain, some climbed the hill
Some started sailin’ and a rollin’ with the wheel
Some tried swimmin’ and I guess they’re swimmin’ still
For they heard the waters roarin’
Didn’t it rain?
Tell me, Noah, didn’t it rain?
Traditional Spiritual arr. Stacey V. Gibbs
Heilig, WoO 27 Felix Mendelssohn (1809–1847) (from Die Deutsche Liturgie)
Heilig, heilig, heilig ist Gott, der Herr Zebaoth!
Alle Lande sind Deiner Ehre voll Hosanna in der Höhe!
Gelobt sei der da kommt Im Namen des Herrn Hosanna in der Höhe!
Holy, holy, holy Lord God of hosts: heaven and earth are full of your glory. Hosanna in the highest.
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.
Yale Glee Club
Jeffrey Douma, conductor v.
Twa Tanbou Sydney Guillaume
John Raskopf, conductor
Twa Tanbou
Kap fe yon diskisyon
Yon gwo dimanch maten
Le yo sot nan Ginen
Yon Ti Kata
Yon Tanbouren
Yon Gwo Boula
Boula rete li di
Li di li ka frape pi fo
Boula rete li di
Se li kl ka frape pi fo
Tanbouren di li gen pi bel son
Li di “Ie map site, se rete tande”
Kata ki tap koute, li rete li move
Li pa te ka konprann kouman de kamarad,
Ki abiye ak menm rad
Ki pitit menm manman
Chita ap fe deblozay
Yon bon jou Madigra, Kata tonbe zouke
Denye moun ki te la yo tout tonbe danse …
Tanbouren ak Boula kite la ap tande
Pou ft fet la pi bel: yo tou fon ribanbel
Three drums
Are having an argument
A great Sunday morning
On their way back from Guinea
A little Kata …
A little Tanbouren …
A big Boula …
Boula declared
That he can hit the loudest
Boula declared “I can hit the loudest!”
Tanbouren said “I have the most beautiful sound”
He said “when I perform, keep quiet and listen!”
Kata who was hearing all this became angry
He could not comprehend how two soldiers
Who are dressed with the same outfit
And are children of the same mother
Are sitting around making a scandal
One fine Mardi-Gras day, Kata started to “zouk”
Every single person there began to dance …
Tanbouren and Boula who were there listening
To make the party more exciting, they started a great throng
Jou sa-a
Yo chante yon chante ke’m pap janm
bliye:
Tout tanbou ki dispese
An nou kole zepol
Poun fe la vi pi bel
That day, They all sang a song that I’ll never forget:
All drums that are dispersed
Let’s put our shoulders together
To make life more beautiful
–Louis M. Celestin
Composed in 2007 by Haitian-born composer Sydney Guillaume, Twa Tanbou sets a vibrant Haitian Creole poem by Louis-Marie Célestin that celebrates unity, humility, and collaboration. The poem tells the story of three drums—the deep Boula, the lyrical Tanbouren, and the quick, bright Kata—who quarrel over which plays the most important role. Only when they join together, blending their distinct voices, do they create true beauty. The text becomes a parable for community: like the drums, we achieve harmony not through competition, but through cooperation and mutual respect.
Guillaume’s music draws on the rhythmic traditions of Haitian Rara and Vodou ceremonial music. Rara, a lively street-parade genre, pulses with layered rhythms and call-and-response singing, while Vodou drumming uses cyclical patterns to connect performers with spiritual and ancestral forces. Its three interlocking drums embody balance and unity—similar to the trio heard in Twa Tanbou. Guillaume weaves these influences together, blending the spiritual depth of Vodou with the exuberance of Rara to turn the choir into a living drum ensemble. –John Raskopf ’27
The Road Home Tune: “Prospect”
Omeno Abutu, conductor adapted by Stephen Paulus
Tell me where is the road I can call my own, That I left, that I lost, so long ago.
All these years I have wondered, oh when will I know, There’s a way, there’s a road that will lead me home.
After wind, After rain, when the dark is done, As I wake from a dream, in the gold of day, Through the air there’s a calling from far away, There’s a voice I can hear that will lead me home.
Rise up, follow me, come away is the call With (the) love in your heart as the only song There is no such beauty as where you belong Rise up, follow me, I will lead you home.
In 2001, the Dale Warland Singers commissioned Stephen Paulus to write a new folk arrangement for choir. Paulus fell in love with a simple pentatonic tune collected in the Southern Harmony songbook, and asked librettist Michael Dennis Browne to compose the lyrics. While writing “The Road Home”, Browne was between visits from the United States to his birthplace of England to be with his sister, who had fallen ill.
Browne was in his mid-twenties when he crossed the Atlantic, just a little older than members of the Glee Club. At the piece’s opening, the speaker yearns for a specific home—the place “that they left, that they lost so long ago.” After years of wandering, the speaker finally hears a voice that will lead them home again—but is this “home” truly the home of their past? In the last verse, the specific longing for a bygone home is supplanted by a more general phrase, “There is no such beauty as where you belong.”
Being from Hong Kong, I’ve watched the city change rapidly over the past few years: friends leave, local newspapers disappear, laws change. I still feel the same nostalgia for Hong Kong, because it raised me. But I’ve also found myself belonging to many more homes in college—especially when I sing on stage or in rehearsals with the Yale Glee Club, whom I’d call my family. The road home may lead to a place, a history, a people, the present, or the future. As the Glee Club performs, I hope that you’ll find a piece of your own home here in this music as well. –Kinnia Cheuk ’26
A
Simple Phrase Rory Bricca ’26 Winner, 2025 Fenno Heath Award
Rushing down College Street
Our weekly rhythms on repeat
A familiar face sighted
An old acquaintance reunited
It’s a sudden, joyous rendezvous,
With a timeless phrase tried and true
To celebrate the love we feel
The good old, “Hey! Let’s grab a meal!”
Grab a meal! Grab a meal!
Grab a meal, yes! Sounds like a deal
Grab a meal! Grab a meal!
I really have to go but I’ll text you…
Hey, let’s grab a meal! Grab a meal!
Grab a meal, yes! This time for real!
Grab a meal! Grab a meal!
So, are you free next Monday dinner?
No I’m not but Tuesday dinner?
No I’m not but Wednesday dinner?
Friday lunch? Wednesday lunch?
Tuesday lunch? Friday dinner?
Sunday? Monday? Wednesday? Friday? Tuesday?
How about Sunday dinner?
You mean Family Dinner?
Thursday lunch, Thursday lunch, Thursday lunch, Thursday lunch
Yes, Thursday lunch! Thursday lunch!
Thursday lunch! And together we’ll munch
On chicken tenders! Or grilled cheese!
At Silliman or Davenport or Trumbull? Stiles? Murray?
How about Berkeley? Hopper? Saybrook? JE?
Pierson? Branford? Franklin? TD?
Wait, TD??
Morse! Morse! Morse! Morse!
To grab a meal! Grab a meal! Grab a meal!
Grab a meal, yes! What an ordeal…
To grab a meal! Grab a meal! Grab a meal!
And so we don’t instantly forget
It’s going in the GCal
Send an invite for the GCal
Meet at Morse, in the GCal
In the GCal, in the holy GCal
To grab a meal!
The Fenno Heath Award invites composers to write a short piece that reflects “the composer’s experience at Yale.” Typically, this yields tender ballads about finding community, or the joy of singing—“bright college years with pleasure rife.” That’s all well and good. I, however, felt compelled to honor the most quintessential Yale tradition of them all, in the uptempo pastiche style of Yale football songs: running into someone you vaguely recognize from first year, locking eyes for a moment of shared history, and exchanging that timeless, heartfelt simple phrase … –Rory Bricca ’26
Eli Yale
Traditional Student Song
Kyle Thomas Ramos ’26, president; Kinnia Cheuk ’26, manager soloists
Combined Choruses vi.
Abendlied Josef Gabriel Rheinberger (1839–1901)
Bleib bei uns, denn es will Abend werden, und der Tag hat sich geneiget.
Bide with us, for evening shadows darken, and the day will soon be over.
Radcliffe, Now We Rise to Greet Thee Emily Coolidge ‘08
Radcliffe, now we rise to greet thee, Alma Mater, hail to thee!
All our hearts are one in singing Of our love and loyalty. We have learn’d to know each other In thy light, which clearly beams, Thou hast been a kindly Mother, Great fulfiller of our dreams.
Radcliffe, now we rise to greet thee, Alma Mater, hail to thee!
Alma Mater, give thy daughters
Each a spark from Truth’s pure flame; Let them when they leave thy altars Kindle others in thy name. For our strength and joy in living, Love and praise to thee belong; Thou whose very life is giving, From thy daughters take a song.
Radcliffe, now we rise to greet thee, Alma Mater, hail to thee!
–Floretta Elmore ’09
Fair Harvard Traditional Irish Melody
Niko Paladino ’20, HGC president Samuel Gilman, 1811
Fair Harvard! we join in thy Jubilee throng, And with blessings surrender thee o’er
By these Festival-rites, from the Age that is past,
To the Age that is waiting before.
O Relic and Type of our ancestors’ worth, That hast long kept their memory warm, First flow’r of their wilderness! Star of their night!
Calm rising thro’ change and thro’ storm.
Farewell! be thy destinies onward and bright!
To thy children the lesson still give,
With freedom to think, and with patience to bear, And for Right ever bravely to live.
Let not moss-covered Error moor thee at its side,
As the world on Truth’s current glides by, Be the herald of Light, and the bearer of Love, Till the stars in the firmament die.
Bright College Years Carl Wilhelm arr. Robert Bonds ‘71
Bright College years, with pleasure rife, The shortest, gladdest years of life; How swiftly are ye gliding by!
Oh, why doth time so quickly fly?
The seasons come, the seasons go, The earth is green or white with snow, But time and change shall naught avail
To break the friendships formed at Yale. In after years, should troubles rise
To cloud the blue of sunny skies, How bright will seem, through memory’s haze
Those happy, golden, bygone days!
Oh, let us strive that ever we May let these words our watch-cry be,
Where’er upon life’s sea we sail: “For God, for Country and for Yale!”