Foam-white the billows of this tide of May,
Plum-boughs that flood an old brick wall with flower;
The golden branched forsythia lifts a bower
Of glowing bloom where lawn-slopes upward stray;
Fleet fragrances remember their old way
Round the green Yard; high over eave and tower
Broods the great presence of creative power,
Enmisted pearl, far-softening the deep day.

Thus far from you home-blest, my ways have led,
O Friend. Leaped valleys, vainly lifted hills,
Obscure not: Where the continent's grey sills
Stretch seaward starry welcomes, there I tread
Cities wave-girdled, alien — there my head
All gladly lay however the night wills,
Resting or where the sea my senses fills,
Or under antique roofs sage-tenanted,

Wherever the way led wild Spring's caress
Roused in me fragrant thoughts of home and you:
Ever the marvelling man's-joy we indrew
Along our last year's walks came back to bless —
Left me a dream to exult in, power to press
Far the alluring vistaed future through;
Regret of absence scarce my spirit knew
Even here in Harvard's supreme loveliness.

Dim odorous nights of Spring this friendship turns
Inward his form to my enfolding mind;
Unto remembered words with heart inclined,
Silent, I ponder till my soul discerns
New flames of life, and all my being yearns
That you, upon your couch of sleep, in kind
May cherish thought of me, even so refined
Through that bold fire wherewith our altar burns!