Page:The college beautiful, and other poems.djvu/52

With long, green raiment blown and wet,
The willows, hand in hand,
Lean low to teach the rivulet
What trees may understand
Of murmurous tune and idle dance,
With broken rhymes whose flow
A poet's ear shall catch, perchance,
A score of miles below.

Across the sky to fairy-realm
There sails a cloud-born ship,
A wind-sprite standeth at the helm
W T ith laughter on his lip.
The melting masts are tipped with gold;
The broidered pennons stream.
The vessel beareth in her hold
The lading of a dream.

It is the hour to rend thy chains,
The blossom-time of souls.
Yield all the rest to cares and pains ;
To-day delight controls.
Gird on thy glory and thy pride,
For growth is of the sun;
Expand thy wings, whate'er betide,
The summer is begun.