She gained her crown a gem of flame
  When KNEASS fell dead in victory gory;
New splendor blazed upon her name
  When IVES’ young life went out in glory!

Thus bright forever may she keep
  Her fires of tolerant Freedom burning,
Till War’s red eyes are charmed to sleep
  And bells ring home the boys returning.

And may she shed her radiant truth
  In largess on ingenuous comers,
And hold the bloom of gracious youth
  Through many a hundred tranquil summers!

A Winter Night

The winter wind is raving fierce and shrill
  And chides with angry moan the frosty skies,
  The white stars gaze with sleepless Gorgon eyes
That freeze the earth in terror fixed and still
We reck not of the wild night’s gloom and chill,
  Housed from its rage, dear friend; and fancy flies,
  Lured by the hand of beckoning memories,
Back to those summer evenings on the hill
Where we together watched the sun go down
  Beyond the gold-washed uplands, while his fires
  Touched into glittering life the vanes and spires
Piercing the purpling mists that veiled the town. 
  The wintry night thy voice and eyes beguile,
  Till wake the sleeping summers in thy smile.

Student-Song

When Youth’s warm heart beats high, my friend,
  And Youth’s blue sky is bright,
And shines in Youth’s clear eye, my friend,
  Love’s early dawning light,
Let the free soul spurn care’s control,
  And while the glad days shine,
We’ll use their beams for Youth’s gay dreams
  Of Love and Song and Wine.

Let not the bigot’s frown, my friend,
  O’ercast thy brow with gloom,
For Autumn’s sober brown, my friend,
  Shall follow Summer’s bloom. 
Let smiles and sighs and loving eyes
  In changeful beauty shine,
And shed their beams on Youth’s gay dreams
  Of Love and Song and Wine.

For in the weary years, my friend,
  That stretched before us lie,
There’ll be enough of tears, my friend,
  To dim the brightest eye. 
So let them wait, and laugh at fate,
  While Youth’s sweet moments shine,—­
Till memory gleams with golden dreams
  Of Love and Song and Wine.

How It Happened

I pray you, pardon me, Elsie,
  And smile that frown away
That dims the light of your lovely face
  As a thunder-cloud the day. 
I really could not help it,—­
  Before I thought, ’t was done,—­
And those great gray eyes flashed bright and cold,
  Like an icicle in the sun.

I was thinking of the summers
  When we were boys and girls,
And wandered in the blossoming woods,
  And the gay winds romped with your curls. 
And you seemed to me the same little girl
  I kissed in the alder-path,
I kissed the little girl’s lips, and alas! 
  I have roused a woman’s wrath.