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Their sorrows are past, yet tradition divines
How peaceful their homes by this River of Pines.

Now cottages, shaded by arbor or grove,
Where Nature, where Art, all their treasures have wove:
Gems from the forest and the tropics are there,
Transplanted with taste and with infinite care;
No discord; and there, O, how sweet to recall
Hospitality's smile embellishing all;
A magnetic star—in full glory it shines,
Adorning the homes of this River of Pines.

There temples of peace, with their time-hallowed walls;:
Each Sabbath to duty the pilgrim recalls:
The ambassadors plead with fervor and love—
That dews may descend from those rivers above;
The spirit unveiled, soon, alas, may behold
Those rivers immortal, with grandeur untold:
Permitted to worship no more in these shrines,
How calm will they rest by this River of Pines.

Like a monarch robed, see Ascutney there stand,
His cloud-top o'erlooking the beautiful land;
And all that a student of truth may desire,
All that the sublime and the great can inspire,
Is found here, the heart and the mind to expand;
How sacred the theme, O, how classic and grand
Are yon halls where Science unfolds her pure mines,
When sought are her gems, by this River of Pines.