And replace the bowed form and the tottering step,
The wrinkles and silvery hair,
By the brown flowing locks and the graces of youth,
Its footstep elastic and light,
Could mantle the cheek with its long-vanished bloom
And make the dull eye keen and bright.

'Tis only a fable--a beautiful dream,
But the fable, the dream, shall come true,
As thy sons, Alma Mater, assemble to-night
The joys of past years to renew.
Our eyes shall grow bright with their old wonted light,
Our spirits untrammelled by care,
And the Goddess of Hope, with her fresh rainbow tints,
Shall paint every prospect more fair.

How sweet were the friendships we formed in thy halls!
How strong were the tendrils that bound
Our hearts to the mother whose provident care
Encompassed her children around!
Now strong in our manhood we cherish her still;
And if by misfortune brought low,
Our strength shall support her, our arms bear her up,
And sustain her through weal and through woe.





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