Chapter 7
Round Bancroft height rich memories Commingle earth's affairs, Among the world's celebrities, Of him whose name it bears; The scholar-wise compatriot Who left to later men The grand achievements unforgot Of that historic pen.
Fair Bancroft height revisited When all the land is white, A halo crowns its noble head Impelling fresh delight; The daring wish in winter-time The blizzard to defy Those shining slippery slopes to climb Up nearer to the sky.
Though Boreas abrade the cheek With buffetings of snow, He gives a vigor that the weak And languid never know; And with rejuvenescent thrill, Like children everywhere, Bestirs the rhapsody, the will To make a snow-man there.
On Bancroft height and Bancroft tower Such vistas charm the eye 'Twere life's consummate, glorious hour But to behold--and die; Yet in the sparkle and the glow Is earth so very fair The spirit lingers, loath to go, And dreams of heaven--up there.
A Reformer.
When I was young, my heart elate With ardent notions warm, I thirsted to inaugurate A spirit of reform; The universe was all awry, Philosophy despite, And mundane things disjointed I Was bound to set aright.
My mind conceived a million plans, For Hope was brave and strong, But dared not with unaided hands Combat a giant wrong; So with caress I sought to coax Those who had humored me In infancy--the dear old folks-- And gain their sympathy.
But quarreling with extant laws They would have deemed a shame Who clung to error, just because Their fathers did the same. I sought in Pleasure's gilded halls, Where grace and beauty stirred At revelry's impetuous calls, To make my projects heard.
Then turned to stately palaces Of luxury and ease, Where wealth's absorbing object was The master's whim to please; And spoke of evils unredressed, Of danger yet to be-- They only answered, like the rest: "But what is that to me?"
And even pious _devotées_ Whom sacred walls immure Condemned me (as by feeble praise)-- What more could I endure? Down by the stream, so pure and clear That sunbeams paused to drink, In loneliness and grief sincere I pressed its grassy brink.
Thick darkness seemed to veil the day; Beyond a realm of tears Utopia's land of promise lay; And not till later years I learned this lesson--that to win Results from labor sure, "Reformers" always must begin Among the lowly poor.
For they whose lot privation is And whose delights are few, Whose aggregate of miseries Is want of something new, The measure of whose happiness Is but an empty cup, For every novelty will press Alert to fill it up.
Transcriber's Notes: Page 27: Changed Galiee to Galilee (Printer's Error) Page 47: Indented 1st stanza to match others Page 173: Changed prarie to prairie (Printer's Error)