The cause of freedom won, a race enslaved
Called back to manhood, and a nation saved,
These sons of Harvard falling ere their prime
Leave their proud memory to the coming time.
How strange the prospect to my sight appears,
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Changed by the busy hands of fifty years!
Full well I know our ocean-salted Charles,
Filling and emptying through the sands and marls
That wall his restless stream on either bank,
Not all unlovely when the sedges rank
Lend their coarse veil the sable ooze to hide
That bares its blackness with the ebbing tide.
In other shapes to my illumined eyes
Those ragged margins of our stream arise;
Through walls of stone the sparkling waters flow,
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The Stoics and St. Paul.
