402 IN AN ALBUM. — AT THE COMMENCEMENT DINNER, 1866. XXI. Years hence this yellowing leaf may see, And put to task, your memory ask AT THE COMMENCEMENT DINNER, 1866, IN ACKNOWLEDGING A TOAST TO THE SMITH PROFESSOR. I RISE, Mr. Chairman, as both of us know, With the impromptu I promised you three weeks ago, Dragged up to my doom by your might and my mane, To do what I vowed I'd do never again; And I feel like your good honest dough when possest By a stirring, impertinent devil of yeast. "You must rise," says the leaven. "I can't," says the dough; "Just examine my bumps and you'll see it's no go." "But you must," the tormentor insists, "t is all right; You must rise when I bid you, and, what's more, be light." "T is a dreadful oppression, this making men speak What they 're sure to be sorry for all the next week; Some poor stick requesting, like Aaron's, to bud Into eloquence, pathos, or wit in cold blood, As if the dull brain that you vented your spite on Could be got, like an ox, by mere poking, to Brighton. INDEX OF FIRST LINES. A beggar through the world am I, 4. A stranger came one night to Yussouf's tent, 305. As, cleansed of Tiber's and Oblivion's slime, 367. At twenty we fancied the blest Middle Ages, 399. Ef I a song or two could make, 229. Fair as a summer dream was Margaret, 22. "For this true nobleness I seek in vain," 16. Giddings, far rougher names than thine have Go! leave me, Priest; my soul would be, 61. Gold of the reddening sunset, backward thrown, Gone, gone from us! and shall we see, 1. He who first stretched his nerves of subtile wire, Heaven's cup held down to me I drain, 71. Here once my step was quickened, 298. Hers all that Earth could promise or bestow, 382. I am a man of forty, sirs, a native of East Had- I ask not for those thoughts, that sudden leap, 17. I call as fly the irrevocable hours, 404. I cannot think that thou shouldst pass away, 17. I christened you in happier days, before, 365. I could not bear to see those eyes, 379. I did not praise thee when the crowd, 81. I do not come to weep above thy pall, 84. I don't much s'pose, hows'ever I should plen it, I du believe in Freedom's cause, 157. I go to the ridge in the forest, 299. I grieve not that ripe knowledge takes away, 20. I have a fancy: how shall I bring it, 387. I had a little daughter, 72. I hed it on iny min' las' time, when I to write ye I know a falcon, swift and peerless, 39. I love to start out arter night 's begun, 202. I need not praise the sweetness of his song, 315. I rise, Mr. Chairman, as both of us know, 402. I sat and watched the walls of night, 386. I sat one evening in my room, 65. I saw a Sower walking slow, 49. I saw the twinkle of white feet, 53. I sent you a message, my friens, t' other day, 215. I spose you recollect thet I explained my gennle I spose you wonder ware I be; I can't tell, fer the I swam with undulation soft, 311. I thank ye, my friens, for the warmth o' your I thought our love at full, but I did err, 20. I treasure in secret some long, fine hair, 297. I, walking the familiar street, 375. I was with thee in Heaven: I cannot tell, 381. I watched a moorland torrent run, 386. I went to seek for Christ, 54. I would more natures were like thine, 8. I would not have this perfect love of ours, 16. If I let fall a word of bitter mirth, 342. In life's small things be resolute and great, 404. It is a mere wild rosebud, 36. It don't seem hardly right, John, 207. It mounts athwart the windy hill, 317. It's some consid'ble of a spell sence I hain't writ Leaves fit to have been poor Juliet's cradle-rhyme, Light of triumph in her eyes, 384. Look on who will in apathy, and stifle they who Maiden, when such a soul as thine is born, 17. My coachman, in the moonlight there, 288. My day began not till the twilight fell, 371. My heart, I cannot still it, 385. My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die, My name is Water: I have sped, 77. My soul was like the sea, 7. My worthy friend, A. Gordon Knott, 263. Never, surely, was holier man, 63. New England's poet, rich in love as years, 367. Nor deem he lived unto himself alone, 365. Now Biörn, the son of Heriulf, had ill days, 299. Once git a smell o' musk into a draw, 224. One after one the stars have risen and set, 31. Our love is not a fading, earthly flower, 19. Phoebus, sitting one day in a laurel-tree's shade, Praisest Law, friend? We, too, love it much as Propped on the marsh, a dwelling now, I see, 136. Rabbi Jehosha used to say, 306. Reader! Walk up at once (it will soon be too Rippling through thy branches goes the sunshine, Said Christ our Lord, "I will go and see," 77. She gave me all that woman can, 378. Ship, blest to bear such freight across the blue, Shy soul and stalwart, man of patient will, 365. Sisters two, all praise to you, 49. Skilled to pull wires, he baffles Nature's hope, 404. Somewhere in India, upon a time, 270. a lantern, 404. he borrows Thank God, he saw you last in pomp of May, 365. The Bardling came where by a river grew, 203. The electric nerve, whose instantaneous thrill, 357. The love of all things springs from love of one, 18. The Maple puts her corals on in May, 382. The New World's sons, from England's breasts we The next whose fortune 't was a tale to tell, 387. The old Chief, feeling now wellnigh his end, 43. The wind is roistering out of doors, 279. The wisest man could ask no more of Fate, 366. There never yet was flower fair in vain, 17. These rugged, wintry days I scarce could bear, 19. Thick-rushing, like an ocean vast, 8. This is the midnight of the century, -hark! 287. This little blossom from afar, 4. Thou look'dst on me all yesternight, 14. Through suffering and sorrow thou hast passed, 16. Thy love thou sentest oft to me, 61. Thy voice is like a fountain, 7. 'Tis a woodland enchanted! 303. To those who died for her on land and sea, 404. 'T were no hard task, perchance, to win, 319. Unconscious as the sunshine, simply sweet, 366. Violet! sweet violet! 13. Wait a little: do we not wait? 310. What boot your houses and your lands? 50. "What fairings will ye that I bring?" 285. 62. What man would live coffined with brick and What mean these banners spread, 384. "What means this glory round our feet," 380. What visionary tints the year puts on, 56. When a deed is done for Freedom, through the When oaken woods with buds are pink, 376. |