The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes Part 77

THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH

READ AT THE MEETING OF THE HARVARD ALUMNI a.s.sOCIATION, JUNE 25, 1873

THE fount the Spaniard sought in vain Through all the land of flowers Leaps glittering from the sandy plain Our cla.s.sic grove embowers; Here youth, unchanging, blooms and smiles, Here dwells eternal spring, And warm from Hope's elysian isles The winds their perfume bring.

Here every leaf is in the bud, Each singing throat in tune, And bright o'er evening's silver flood s.h.i.+nes the young crescent moon.

What wonder Age forgets his staff And lays his gla.s.ses down, And gray-haired grandsires look and laugh As when their locks were brown!

With ears grown dull and eyes grown dim They greet the joyous day That calls them to the fountain's brim To wash their years away.

What change has clothed the ancient sire In sudden youth? For, to!

The Judge, the Doctor, and the Squire Are Jack and Bill and Joe!

And be his t.i.tles what they will, In spite of manhood's claim The graybeard is a school-boy still And loves his school-boy name; It calms the ruler's stormy breast Whom hurrying care pursues, And brings a sense of peace and rest, Like slippers after shoes.--

And what are all the prizes won To youth's enchanted view?

And what is all the man has done To what the boy may do?

O blessed fount, whose waters flow Alike for sire and son, That melts our winter's frost and snow And makes all ages one!

I pledge the sparkling fountain's tide, That flings its golden shower With age to fill and youth to guide, Still fresh in morning flower Flow on with ever-widening stream, In ever-brightening morn,-- Our story's pride, our future's dream, The hope of times unborn!

NO TIME LIKE THE OLD TIME

THERE is no time like the old time, when you and I were young, When the buds of April blossomed, and the birds of spring-time sung!

The garden's brightest glories by summer suns are nursed, But oh, the sweet, sweet violets, the flowers that opened first!

There is no place like the old place, where you and I were born, Where we lifted first our eyelids on the splendors of the morn From the milk-white breast that warmed us, from the clinging arms that bore, Where the dear eyes glistened o'er us that will look on us no more!

There is no friend like the old friend, who has shared our morning days, No greeting like his welcome, no homage like his praise Fame is the scentless sunflower, with gaudy crown of gold; But friends.h.i.+p is the breathing rose, with sweets in every fold.

There is no love like the old love, that we courted in our pride; Though our leaves are falling, falling, and we're fading side by side, There are blossoms all around us with the colors of our dawn, And we live in borrowed suns.h.i.+ne when the day-star is withdrawn.

There are no times like the old times,--they shall never be forgot!

There is no place like the old place,--keep green the dear old spot!

There are no friends like our old friends,--may Heaven prolong their lives There are no loves like our old loves,--G.o.d bless our loving wives!

1865.

A HYMN OF PEACE

SUNG AT THE "JUBILEE," JUNE 15, 1869, TO THE MUSIC OF SELLER'S "AMERICAN HYMN"

ANGEL of Peace, thou hast wandered too long!

Spread thy white wings to the suns.h.i.+ne of love!

Come while our voices are blended in song,-- Fly to our ark like the storm-beaten dove!

Fly to our ark on the wings of the dove,-- Speed o'er the far-sounding billows of song, Crowned with thine olive-leaf garland of love,-- Angel of Peace, thou hast waited too long!

Joyous we meet, on this altar of thine Mingling the gifts we have gathered for thee, Sweet with the odors of myrtle and pine, Breeze of the prairie and breath of the sea,-- Meadow and mountain and forest and sea!

Sweet is the fragrance of myrtle and pine, Sweeter the incense we offer to thee, Brothers once more round this altar of thine!

Angels of Bethlehem, answer the strain!

Hark! a new birth-song is filling the sky!-- Loud as the storm-wind that tumbles the main Bid the full breath of the organ reply,-- Let the loud tempest of voices reply,-- Roll its long surge like the-earth-shaking main!

Swell the vast song till it mounts to the sky!

Angels of Bethlehem, echo the strain!

NOTES.

THE BOYS.

The members of the Harvard College cla.s.s of 1829 referred to in this poem are: "Doctor," Francis Thomas; "Judge," G. T. Bigelow, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Ma.s.sachusetts; "O Speaker," Hon. Francis B.

Crownins.h.i.+eld, Speaker of the Ma.s.sachusetts House of Representatives; "Mr. Mayor," G. W. Richardson, of Worcester,Ma.s.s.; "Member of Congress,"

Hon. George T. Davis; "Reverend," James Freeman Clarke; "boy with the grave mathematical look," Benjamin Peirce; "boy with a three-decker brain," Judge Benjamin R. Curtis, of the Supreme Court of the United States; "nice youngster of excellent pith," S. F. Smith, author of "My Country, 't is of Thee."

"That lovely, bright-eyed boy." William Sturgis.

"Who faced the storm so long." Francis B. Crownins.h.i.+eld.

"Our many featured friend." George T. Davis.

"The close-clinging dulcamara." The "bitter-sweet" of New England is the _Celastrus scandens_, "bourreau des arbres" of the Canadian French.

"All armed with picks and spades." The captured slaves were at this time organized as pioneers.

THE POETICAL WORKS

OF

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

VOL. III