WHILE yet their fagots scarce had burned On Alma Mater's altar fire, With Life's long lessons still unlearned, They left our land of dear desire. Ambition had not plumed its wings Nor genius won its myrtle crown, Before they passed to higher things, Laying the lesser laurels down. They clasped at once the Holy Grail Across the dark, mysterious stream, Yet I hear voices on the gale And still behold them stand and dream. Like figures on a Grecian vase, Which foot nor finger ne'er can raise, I see them as they quit the race Along the course of college days. And I who must press on and fight Far through the fields of future years Have shrined these men in hallowed light, Blessing their memories with tears. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ALTAR by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON EPISTLE TO ROBERT, EARL OF OXFORD, AND EARL MORTIMER by ALEXANDER POPE INSTRUCTIONS, SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN IN PARIS, FOR THE MOB IN ENGLAND by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK POLYHYMNIA: VERSES TO LORD NORREYS, SELECTION by WILLIAM BASSE VALEDICTORY; THE SCHOLAR TO THE ASHES OF HIS LIBRARY by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB A PARAPHRASE ON THE COLLECT FOR ADVENT SUNDAY by JOHN BYROM |