Within the Auditorium
In the foyer sways the human mass
Thru the doors into the great rotunda.
Up the winding stairs the people pass,
To the balcony seats ascending.
East of the central doors a portrait we see,
President James in gown and crimson hood.
West, a beautiful bronze of memory,—
Ruth among the alien sheaves, low bending.
Thru the doors into the great rotunda.
Up the winding stairs the people pass,
To the balcony seats ascending.
East of the central doors a portrait we see,
President James in gown and crimson hood.
West, a beautiful bronze of memory,—
Ruth among the alien sheaves, low bending.
Crescent shaped the rows of seats extend
Within. Above, the great dome sparkles with lights
On the stage green folds of velvet lend
Drooping softness to the long, harsh lines.
Dominating the space above, Ulysses
Watches Penelope's maidens spin. The title,
"Everybody Works. But Father," his ease
Has won from the gay, irreverent students.
Within. Above, the great dome sparkles with lights
On the stage green folds of velvet lend
Drooping softness to the long, harsh lines.
Dominating the space above, Ulysses
Watches Penelope's maidens spin. The title,
"Everybody Works. But Father," his ease
Has won from the gay, irreverent students.
