Harvard

Changeless in beauty, rose-hues on her cheek, Old walls, old trees, old memories all around Lend her unfading youth their charm antique And fill with mystic light her holy ground. Here the lost dove her leaf of promise found While the new morning showed its blushing streak Far o'er the waters she had crossed to seek The bleak, wild shore in billowy forests drowned. Mother of scholars! on thy rising throne Thine elder sisters look benignant down; England's proud twins, and they whose cloisters own The fame of Abelard, the scarlet gown That laughing Rabelais wore, not yet outgrown— And on thy forehead place the New World's crown.