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MEMORIAL ODE 
 
 For the FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY 
 
 of the FOUNDING 0/RACINE 
 
 COLLEGE 
 
 RACINE WISCONSIN 
 
 X JUNII MCMII 
 
 By 
 
 Wallace Rice 
 
 Vigeat Radix! 
 
 Privately Printed at 
 
 THE BLUE SKY PRESS 
 
 CHICAGO MCMII 
 

 ^ 
 
PRING airily passing with a buoyant tread 
 For hastening Summer her best gift has 
 
 spread, 
 Of delicate flowers, 
 /That leave man thankful and his thought a-thrill, 
 The glowing coronal: The roses spill 
 
 Their attar on the little sill 
 
 - 
 
 That parts their month of June, 
 ^Recalling fortunate hours 
 .When Summer, like a night-moth, hovers o'er 
 
 Her exquisite parterre; 
 "Recalling earlier bliss — 
 
 Spring's fresh-faced heralds at her pageant's head: 
 
 The apple-bloom, April's anemones, 
 
 May's iris, Paschal lilies; and the breeze, 
 
 June-born, of all the year the kiss 
 
 Most sweetly breathed. These memories, 
 
 How tender-vivid to the mind, yet soon 
 
 Bedimmed as any filmy matin moon! 
 
 A twilight aureole glimmering there 
 
 Above the springtides gone 
 
 And vernal suns that shone — 
 
 To warm the earth and cheer the soul no more! 
 
 Tf So all of us, 
 
 I' the summer of our life and vigorous 
 
 With ripened manhood, come together here 
 
 To stand beside the flower-laden bed 
 
Of boyhood and lost youth that was our Spring, 
 
 Fulfilled of recollections blossoming 
 
 Rose-like, innocent-white, with virginal flush, 
 
 Daintily golden, saffron, crimson-red; 
 
 Till, on a sudden, with misty eyes, 
 
 Grief in our throat, 
 
 We muse in sad surprise — 
 
 The madrigal we'd sing as soon a-hush 
 
 As ever ceased the note 
 
 Of startled hermit thrush — 
 
 With one deep sigh for all the grace 
 
 Of the dear days so dead, 
 
 That had been once so fully comforted 
 
 In this dear place, 
 
 This spot so wholly dear! 
 
 A laughing lad, — 
 Nor knew how glad! — 
 The morning-glories bind 
 'Their beauties to the chapel door 
 And bless his matins daily o'er 
 With grace but half divined. 
 
 O hopes unsped, 
 O youth far fled, 
 And years with fluttering feet , 
 How fitly the convolvulus 
 Bloomed through you, frailly glorious ', 
 Fair, evanescent, fleet! 
 
II 
 
 ^[ Racine: Unto her feet from the far North 
 
 A living amethystine sea comes forth, 
 
 Sleeping to-day in splendour, thundering 
 
 To-morrow 'gainst the bluffs, a lustful thing 
 
 Bent on destruction; yet with outspread wing 
 
 Ships pass, a mighty navy laden deep, 
 
 Upon the waves, awakened or asleep. 
 
 Embowering all its resonant shores are set 
 
 Huge forests where are met 
 
 In tints of malachite and chrysoprase 
 
 A myriad tossing, plumy sprays — 
 
 Of tremulous poplar, and the choiring pine, 
 
 The whispering alder, black-stoled oak, 
 
 The stately walnut in her emerald cloak, 
 
 And fragrant birch, as pale and fine 
 
 As studious youth. To swell this azure sea 
 
 The river runs, a city fair 
 
 Beside the pleasant waters meeting there, 
 
 As cunning workmen set a gem 
 
 To mark the joining of a diadem. 
 
 And here the vast-horizoned prairies come, 
 
 Full, multitudinous, with the busy hum 
 
 Of insects, and the mating-songs of birds, 
 
 And flashes of bright blossoms, lowing herds, 
 
 And clustering farmsteads filled with happy folk. 
 
 ^f The sea, the wood, 
 
The river and the plain combine 
 
 To beautify a sacred spot, where all is good; 
 
 Where even the tiny griefs of long ago 
 
 By filtering years have all been strained away 
 
 To let a stream of limpid mirth outflow 
 
 And grant us many an old delight to-day. 
 
 Long, long our schoolboy days, 
 With weary storms within them 
 And what was poignant pain; 
 Tet through fond years the rays 
 Of sunlight sparkle in them: 
 'There are no hours of rain; 
 
 Long vivid days alone, 
 
 Short dreamless nights a-many, 
 The surer joy to know — 
 Silver our locks have grown. 
 And brief the days, nor any 
 Still nights until we go. 
 
 Ill 
 
 If On lake and river in their frail canoe, 
 Through virgin forests and the trackless plain, 
 The black-robed priests their dauntless way pursue 
 That o'er the wilderness our God may reign; 
 The standard of the Cross is here unfurled, 
 The wondering savage hears the blessed Word, 
 And this our western land is given the world 
 
Forever consecrated to the Lord. 
 
 The ages roll; great conflicts breed despair; 
 
 Until another band of holy men, 
 
 Whose memorable names our buildings bear, 
 
 Advance the standard of the Cross again. 
 
 In sunshine and in shade they persevere, 
 
 Their temple structure laying deep and broad, 
 
 Their message to the world proclaiming clear: 
 
 The greater glory of the living God! 
 
 And not with brick and stone alone they build, 
 
 But delving deeply in the human heart 
 
 They labour that the years may see fulfilled 
 
 In souls within their care the better part. 
 
 How shall we thank them — we who here have 
 
 learned 
 To keep within our hearts the loveliness 
 For which the greatest of the earth have yearned 
 And, finding, found not tongues enough to bless? 
 Through lengthening years have passed in love and 
 
 truth 
 From this dear spot to-day in jubilee 
 A host of clean-mouthed lads, straight-bodied 
 
 youth, 
 Clear-minded men, in all good modesty. 
 With humbleness of mind to see life whole, 
 One law of love toward all mankind to keep, 
 And, every day, in body, mind, and soul, 
 The harvest of the seeding here to reap. 
 
Let us give praise to-day to those who taught 
 Us, loved us, made us true, but most of all 
 To that compassionate soul of whom the thought 
 Is ever highest duty's trumpet-call! 
 
 De Kovens holy life our own life crowned; 
 Still are we kneeling at the altar , near 
 His white-robed presence, as with accents clear 
 His tones august with mild-eyed wisdom sound. 
 
 He smiles upon us — never had he frowned 
 Had not our sins provoked the thought austere. 
 He loved us, lived and died for us, and here 
 We weep, for whom he shed full many a tear. 
 
 man of God, just, merciful, white-gowned 
 Before the Throne, we live in holy fear 
 Because you taught it us; healing each wound 
 
 In childish hearts with words of lofty cheer: 
 And all we have and all we call renowned. 
 We lay in reverence at your sacred bier\ 
 
 IV 
 
 Tf This is our Jubilee. Once more as boys 
 
 We leave behind the cities' desperate noise, 
 
 The ruck and pettiness of daily life, 
 
 The world's most piteous and unpitying strife, 
 
 To seek the shelter of this cloistered spot 
 
 And feel its happier lot. 
 
 We lay aside the mask of riper years 
 
Which hides our better selves, makes bold our fears, 
 
 And keeps affection coward; we look in eyes 
 
 We loved so long ago 
 
 With gaze grown wise 
 
 And unashamed and loving, ardently; 
 
 We doff the panoply 
 
 Which men adopt lest without wile 
 
 The youthful pulse be seen 
 
 To beat, now high, now low; 
 
 We think no more upon 
 
 The pitiful distinctions we would make 
 
 Among ourselves, some granted us, few won; 
 
 And hand meets hand and smile meets smile 
 
 With the rare thought that we must slake 
 
 Our thirst at the same fountain, breathe 
 
 The same blue air, aud finally wreathe 
 
 The same sad flowers when we part. 
 
 Now lies the heart 
 
 That once was bare in innocence 
 
 Before our fellows, bare from choice; 
 
 Now we are blithesome lads who have not hence 
 
 Departed and may still rejoice, 
 
 Still champions of bat and ball and book, 
 
 Or idling in some favourite nook, 
 
 Still singing with a clear and high-pitched voice 
 
 The anthems, glees, and hymns 
 
 That lifted growing souls above this earth, 
 
 Still creatures of a thousand childish whims 
 
With calculation lost in mirth. 
 
 ^[ Yet what a change has come to us: 
 
 'T was yesterday, and "DulceDomum" rang 
 
 Forth to the clouds to speed us far away 
 
 Where we had thought a marvellous 
 
 New happiness would rise; to-day 
 
 We leave our homes, without a pang 
 
 To find them half-forgotten, carolling 
 
 Domum dulcissimum unto our Queen, 
 
 In reverence at her purple robe to cling 
 
 And make our vows, for ever, to Racine! 
 
 Jesity who, 'Thyself a boy, 
 Smiled upon our childish joy , 
 May each thought of early glee 
 Give us deeper loyalty. 
 
 Jesu, who, Thyself a man, 
 Wept when manhood's woe began, 
 Let our later grief and tears 
 Bind us to more joyful years. 
 
 Jesu, who art very Lord, 
 Bless us gathered at this board; 
 Bless our brothers far away, 
 Sharing in our love to-day. 
 
 Jesu, boy and man and God, 
 
 When we part for paths untrod 
 
 One at heart still may we be, 
 
 Each for each, and all for Thee. Amen. 
 
THE MEADOW-LARK REHEARD 
 
THE MEADOW-LARK REHEARD 
 
 (A Reminiscence of Racine) 
 
 NTO the silent, brooding twilight swell 
 Three slender silver notes in fairy chime, 
 Galling my soul back to the earlier time 
 When I had loved the meadow-lark's soft 
 bell 
 
 Yet did not know it Spring. Three notes, all sweet, 
 I knew, but not the budding hours that bade 
 Them to my ear; nor was a witless lad 
 To miss the Springtime so: My eyes still greet 
 Through dimming years that lovely morning scene 
 With cool, clear blue above, growing more deep 
 Within the pool where half the sky could steep 
 In its own distillations; pale clear green 
 Below, a plain new set with emerald; 
 And that sweet bird upon a tender tree 
 Whose leaves were little for their infancy. 
 From that low throne the medlark softly called ! 
 Unto my heart, and hailed the matin sun 
 So fitly that for years no lark could sing 
 Save in that gently splendid light. Still, Spring 
 I knew not then, nor prayed another one 
 Might come or might withhold, nor thought a day 
 Would ever end which could seem near so fair 
 As the brief, unconsidered radiance there 
 In boyhood's half-held, half-forgotten May. 
 If Ah me! but now those three soft notes I heard 
 Merging into the evening as the light 
 
Of the new shimmering moon made less than bright 
 
 The phantom earthshine in her arms. The bird 
 
 I saw not; yet again in life I know 
 
 Its sweet tune ne'er '11 be heard unless for bride 
 
 Unto its beauty walks the moon beside — 
 
 The maiden moon all melody and glow — 
 
 And always in the Spring. I know Spring's wreath 
 
 Of glory now, with watching through the weeks 
 
 The slowly lengthening ray that slowlier seeks 
 
 The door to Earth's great treasury beneath 
 
 The sod, where lucent fruit and jewelled bloom 
 
 Sleep lightly till their day of beauty come; 
 
 Till Nature weeps and laughs; till bright bees 
 
 hum, 
 And spreading trees for birds make bridal room — 
 I know this now, and did not know it then 
 Nor care. Then all the year was Spring. Then 
 
 Spring 
 Was in my heart and soul; and larks could sing, 
 Or snows could fall, or mortal woes stir men, 
 And leave me heedless, happy, and a boy. 
 Tf And now, because the gold-breast songster 
 
 creeps 
 Into my life anew; because there leaps 
 Into my later thought that earlier joy; 
 Therefore a riper happiness is born to me, 
 And visions twain, best of all Time has spun, 
 Are mine henceforth: The lark and the matin sun 
 When every moment meant felicity; 
 The lark and westering moon after salt tears 
 Had found me. Yesterday the thought of Spring 
 Without was all I had within; to-day I sing 
 Those tender notes sweet through the years. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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