Droop the boughs of the silver birches,
Reaching after the mirrored skies.
ix.
But above the blooms and the tufted mosses,
Azure lakelet and dipping spray,
Lifts the College her steadfast crosses,
Pointing ever the heavenward way.
x.
Foster Mother, our hearts confess thee
By love's election their rightful Queen.
Long, oh long may the sweet stars bless thee
With dews baptismal and solemn sheen.
xi.
Long thro' thy silent casements slanted
May the silvery shafts of moonlight fall
On sculptor's dream in the stone enchanted,
Stately pillar and pictured wall.
xii.
Long may the orient sunbeams glisten
On thy laureled busts that, with tranquil
looks,
From their ordered thrones seem still to listen
To the voices sealed in their faded books.
