Classic Poem

HARVARD CLUB, NEW YORK ,

Yes, home is sweet! and yet we needs must sigh,
Restless until our longing souls have found
Some realm beyond the fireside's narrow bound
Where slippered ease and sleepy comfort lie, —
Some fair ideal form that cannot die
By age dismantled and by change uncrowned,
Else life creeps circling in the self-same round,
And the low ceiling hides the lofty sky
Ah, then to thee our truant hearts return,
Dear Mother, Alma, Casta — spotless, kind!
Thy sacred walls a larger home we find,
And still for thee thy wandering children yearn,
While with undying fires thine altars burn
Where all our holiest memories rest enshrined.