Greeting

(To President Hopkins)

(As read by the author at the annual dinner of the alumni ofWashington, D. C., March 1931.)

What is it to have slept beneath the pines, And trod "the cloisters of the hill-girt plain," And watched the sunset gild the mountain lines, The river flowing bright through grass and grain? What is it to have heard the campus ring Year upon year for the returning teams? What is it to have felt the brooding wing Of quiet where the strenuous future dreams? What is it to have held the standard up In pure hands for the coming host to see? "What, to have broken bread and filled the cup For souls that shall be braver still than we? From such high moments magic might is drawn: Cold hearts catch fire, and old eyes see the dawn.