Classic Poem

There's Pillars II and Columns V
Support and grace our halls of truth,
But none such sparkling pleasure give
As the Column that adorns the S'.
" High XII, " the Junior Warden calls —
His Column grants the festive hour,
And through our antiquated halls
Rich streams of social gladness pour.

'Tis then, all toil and care forgot,
The Bond indissoluble seems;
'Tis then the world's a happy spot,
And hope unmixed with sadness, gleams.
High XII! I've shared the festive hour
With those who realize the bliss,
And felt that life contains no more
Than sparkles in the joys of this.

What memories hover round the time!
What forms rise up to call it blest!
Departed friends; why should it dim
Our joys to know that they're at rest?
High XII! how they rejoice to hear!
Quickly each implement laid down,
Glad to exchange for toil and care
And heavy C ROSS , a heavenly C ROWN !

Then Comrades all, by 3×3,
Linked in the golden chain of truth,
A hearty welcome pledge with me
To the Column that adorns the S'!
High XII! and never be the hour
Less free, less brotherly than now!
High XII! a rich libation pour,
To joys that none but Masons know.