V

I see thee standing in a lonely land, But late and hardly won from solitude, Unpopulous and rude,-- On that far western shore I see thee stand, Like some young goddess from a brighter strand, While in thine eyes a radiant thought is born, Enkindling all thy beauty like the morn. Sea-like the forest rolled, in waves of green, And few the lights that glimmered, leagues between. High in the north, for fourscore years alone Fair Harvard's earliest beacon-tower had shone When Yale was lighted, and an answering ray Flashed from the meadows by New Haven Bay. But deeper spread the forest, and more dark, Where first Neshaminy received the spark Of sacred learning to a woodland camp, And Old Log College glowed with Tennant's lamp. Thine, Alma Mater, was the larger sight, That saw the future of that trembling light, And thine the courage, thine the stronger will, That built its loftier home on Princeton Hill.

"New light!" men cried, and murmured that it came From an unsanctioned source with lawless flame; It shone too free, for still the church and school Must only shine according to their rule. But Princeton answered, in her nobler mood, "God made the light, and all the light is good. There is no war between the old and new; The conflict lies between the false and true. The stars, that high in heaven their courses run, In glory differ, but their light is one. The beacons, gleaming o'er the sea of life, Are rivals but in radiance, not in strife. Shine on, ye sister-towers, across the night! I too will build a lasting house of light."