We exult in thy radiant day;
So, our sons and their sons, when our glories are past,
And our names as forgotten as they;
For though mountain and river should part thee for aye
From the child thou hast reared at thy knee,
The niche that he keeps in his heart is too high
To be filled by another than thee.
The centuries fade, like a mist from the glass;
We are gone, - why we know not, nor where;
Yet as ever we wearily halt as we pass,
We behold thee, still young and still fair.
All the parts being now over, the great audience stood up, and, under the lead of the Pierian and Glee Clubs, sang "Fair Harvard," the now historic song of our common nursery, with the new words as written by the Odist. This was the close of a most successful morning celebration.