LINES TO ALMA MATER.

BLOWS through the bending elms the summer breeze,

And wanton Pleasure to the College halls trips light;

The evil genius Cram in blue-booked garments flees,

And ushers in Commencement's rum delight.

Then Alma Mater doth in honor dwell

Parturient with her yearly brood;

The callow chickens tap against the shell,

The envious bar to intellectual food;

She welcomes all alike, - swell Dives' child,

Fresh from his revel in heaps of coined gold,

And him on whom fair Fortune ne'er has smiled,

On whom the Minx has turned her shoulder cold.

Upon the latter Harvard largess showers,

His tedious digging yields most plenteous crops;

The former, she - or rather Harvard's powers -

Suspends, conditions, and too often drops.

Now Alma Mater swaps her cap and gown

For gayest garb, but the old lady fears

That giddy mortals at her dress may frown,

As not becoming to her many years.

Not so, old girl, for thou art ever young;

Each rolling year adds but a tender grace

To that fair form from old New England sprung,

And fresher beauty to that grand old face.

Long mayst thou view with glowing pride

The grown-up boys, who in the days gone by

So long have nestled by thy kindly side,

And yearly to thy sheltering bosom fly.

Long may we call our Alma Mater fair,

Far may her risen grandeur spread,

And every class that leaves her tender care

Adds fresher laurels to her honored head!