rs!

My mother's lowly thatched-roofed cot
My nobler senses jars;
And so I seek to aid her lot,
But not behind the bars!

'Tis said, forsooth, the poet learns
Through sufferings and wars
To sing the song which deepest burns
Behind the prison bars!

Thus I resign myself to Fate,
Regardless of her scars;
For soon she'll open wide the gate
For me behind the bars.

I plead to you, my fellow man,
For all who wear the tars;
To lend what little help you can
To us behind the bars.

O God, I breathe my prayer to Thee,
Who never sinner bars:
Set each immortal spirit free
Behind these prison bars!

HARVARD SQUARE

'Tis once in life our dreams come true,
The myths of long ago,
Quite real though fairy-like their view,
They surge with ebb and flow;
Thus thou, O haunt of childhood dreams,
More beauteous and fair
Than Nature's landscape and her streams,
Historic Harvard Square.

My soul hath panted long for thee,
Like as the wounded hart
That vainly strives himself to free
Full from the archer's dart;
And struggled oft all, all alone
With burdens hard to bear,
But now I stand at Wisdom's throne
To-night in Harvard Square.

A night most tranquil,--I was proud
My thoughts soared up afar,
To moonbeams pouring through the cloud,
Or some lone twinkling star;
And musing thus, my quickened pace
Beat to the printery's glare,
Where first I saw a friendly face
In classic Harvard Square.

"Ho! stranger, thou art wan and worn
Of journey's wear and tear;
Thy face all haggard and forlorn,
Pray tell me whence and where?"
"I came--from out--the Sunny South--
The spot--on earth--most fair,"
Fell lisping from my trembling mouth--
"In search--of--Harvard Square."

"Here rest, my friend, upon this seat,
And feel thyself at home;
I'll bring thee forth some drink and meat,
'Twill give thee back thy form."
And then I prayed the Lord to bless
Us, and that little lair--
Quite sure, I thought, I had found rest
Most sweet in Harvard Square.

"I came," I said, "o'er stony ways,
Through mountain, hill and dale,
I've felt old Sol's most scorching rays,
And braved the stormy gale;
I've done this, Printer, not for gold,
Nor diamonds rich and rare--
But for a burning in my soul
To learn in Harvard Square.

"I've journeyed long without a drink
Nor yet a bite of bread,
While in this state, O Printer, think--
No shelter for my head.
I mused, '