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:
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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HARVARD VS. YALE.