Victuri Salutamus
Dear school-day comrades, we are met to-day
To wish each other "God speed" on the way
Out into the wide future's unknown span
Of life, which waits for every maid and man.
The past, so full of busy happy hours,
Lies just behind us, and like spring-time flowers,
Will live in fragrant memories that shall last,
Till all the future blends into the past.
As hand clasps hand to-day in fond farewell,
How little of that future can we tell—
Whether, years hence, in happy glad surprise,
We look again into each other's eyes—
Or whether, asking tidings of a friend,
We learn that he has reached his journey's end—
Or mayhap we ourselves, unknowing now,
May first before Death's august presence bow.
Amidst the gladness of this happy day,
Some mournful notes upon our heart-strings play,
As sweetest music holds a minor strain,
So all our joy is not unmixed with pain.
To wish each other "God speed" on the way
Out into the wide future's unknown span
Of life, which waits for every maid and man.
The past, so full of busy happy hours,
Lies just behind us, and like spring-time flowers,
Will live in fragrant memories that shall last,
Till all the future blends into the past.
As hand clasps hand to-day in fond farewell,
How little of that future can we tell—
Whether, years hence, in happy glad surprise,
We look again into each other's eyes—
Or whether, asking tidings of a friend,
We learn that he has reached his journey's end—
Or mayhap we ourselves, unknowing now,
May first before Death's august presence bow.
Amidst the gladness of this happy day,
Some mournful notes upon our heart-strings play,
As sweetest music holds a minor strain,
So all our joy is not unmixed with pain.
The memory of the four years past is ours,
Some diligent, some sweetly vagrant hours,
A happy record of our time well spent,
Of joy and sorrow, struggle and content.
Of friendships made, which firm will stand for aye,
And only strengthen as the years go by;
Of lessons learned, not wholly out of books,
By Nature taught, in many shady nooks,
Where murmuring streams are rippled by the breeze
Which wafts sweet fragrance from the old pine trees—
Where, under the blue arching summer skies,
Our native land, in throes of war now lies.
Our well-loved country, counting all the cost,
Knowing when Honor's lost, then all is lost.
Some diligent, some sweetly vagrant hours,
A happy record of our time well spent,
Of joy and sorrow, struggle and content.
Of friendships made, which firm will stand for aye,
And only strengthen as the years go by;
Of lessons learned, not wholly out of books,
By Nature taught, in many shady nooks,
Where murmuring streams are rippled by the breeze
Which wafts sweet fragrance from the old pine trees—
Where, under the blue arching summer skies,
Our native land, in throes of war now lies.
Our well-loved country, counting all the cost,
Knowing when Honor's lost, then all is lost.
We stand upon the threshold of the dawn
Of a new day, with Youth to urge us on,
Through struggle and endeavor, till we feel
The realization of each fair ideal.
The dawn of a to-morrow born anew,
In which to make our cherished dreams come true.
Let us aim high, our aspirations keen,
For what is best in life and what has been.
So, now, dear friends, clasp hands with me to-day,
While we, about to live, seek out the way.
May Joy and Peace and Health your steps attend—
Success crown each endeavor to the end.
Of a new day, with Youth to urge us on,
Through struggle and endeavor, till we feel
The realization of each fair ideal.
The dawn of a to-morrow born anew,
In which to make our cherished dreams come true.
Let us aim high, our aspirations keen,
For what is best in life and what has been.
So, now, dear friends, clasp hands with me to-day,
While we, about to live, seek out the way.
May Joy and Peace and Health your steps attend—
Success crown each endeavor to the end.
VALE!