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ODE.

I.

FAIR Harvard! We come to the last sacred rite, -

On thy shrine mystic garlands we lay,

That were twined of thought-flowers new born in the light

Of the morn of thy bridal day:

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For the clouds of a century dim not thy youth,

Ever green are thy tendrils above, -

Thy dower thou giv'st us of honor and truth,

So to thee we vow life-lasting love.

II.

The soft light of the past bears the past far away,

And the future yields Hope all its fears;

But the flowrets that bloom on this hallowed day

Are bedewed with sad Memory's tears;

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