Careless of sneers and frowning From curs that cringe and shirk, Asking no greater pleasure Than the sight of his finished work.
“Ye who to-day must follow Whither your fates shall lead, These are your elder brothers! Prove yourselves of the breed! See that ye count as shameful No work your hands can do; And when ye are spent, come back to me That I may comfort you.
Now, through the open portal, Rise and go forth to-day! And a mother’s blessing go with you, To help you on your way.”
Dying echoes fill the valley, Heralding the night, As we gather on the campus In the waning light. In the west the sunset’s crimson All the heaven fills, And its glory rims the edges Of our purple hills.
Fast the length’ning shadows gather, Sunset dims to grey, And the calling winds of evening Through the branches play. With the far stars pale above them While day’s tumult stills, Watching us who know and love them, Stand the purple hills.
Safe within our little valley From the outer strife, Are enshrined the happy mem’ries Of our college life. And when darker days have found us, ’Mid this old world’s ills; Still our hearts will turn with gladness To our purple hills.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Two Poems, by Henry Rutgers Conger