Classic Poem

ODE

For the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Founding of De Veaux College

Much water has flowed down yon haunted chasm,
Bright-green, wave-capt with foam
Of rainbow-glittering white,
Wild, frenzied, boulder-gored,
Uttering deep cries from each fierce spasm,
And dashing onward day and night
Toward its compelling ocean-home;
Much water our Niagara has poured
Down this vast chasm, from lake to lake,
Since fifty years ago
When public-spirited De Veaux
This lofty college founded,
By ample fields surrounded,
To stand a monument for pious Learning's sake.

Through its wide halls each year have rushed,
Their youthful mad exuberance not wholly hushed,
An ever-gathering horde
Of eager youths with hearts and minds awake.
'Tis like a river widening as it flows,
A river of beneficent influence
Whose full extent undying and immense
No mortal man or even angel knows.
We who were once a part of it,
And nourished in the quickemng heart of it,
We realize with mingled feelings
The beauty and the splendor
Of its tremendous incomplete revealings,
And lively thanks we render.

The early were the great days of De Veaux,
For not as yet the narrowing hand of Fate
Had moved the stern conservative judges of the State
To say: " Thus far, no farther shall ye go! "
Then from all regions of our land
Came students, not because the course was free,
But more because they could command
That balanced training of the mind, the heart, the hand,
Which gives men o'er themselves the empery.

Here then we gathered in those ample halls;
Here on the campus met for martial drill
That makes men ready when the trumpet calls
Their country's ultimate mandate to fulfil.
There in the parlor did Mieczyslaw Lasko teach
The waltz and polka to the awkward squad;
I hear his " Bend -two-three, " his broken speech;

I see his figure dignified but odd.
A thousand scenes diversified arise
Before my vision when I shut my eyes:
Those maples which stood drest in vivid dyes
Adown the fair domain
When first I drove
Along the level plain
And saw thy splendid grove,
Thy stone-built mansion, O De Veaux,
That not-to-be-forgotten cool September day,
Now three-and-thirty years ago —
How are they amplified or past away!

I see the Whirlpool and the winding path
That led down to it through the cool and hush;
Its weird uncanny aspect as if Nature's wrath
Restrained yet manifest were in the rush
Of heaving waters trying to escape
Yet ever whirling round the curve and cape.
No boat, no swimmer ever dared to trust
Those treacherous boiling vortices
Where oft the watcher sees
The tortured trunks of forest-trees
Suddenly and violently thrust
Forth from the surface as by hidden Powers
Or drawn end-downward with a quivering,
A shuddering, a shivering
To disappear for hours
And then, all stript of bark,
As if by teeth that gnashed
By cruel jaws that clashed
Of monsters quarrelling in the slime and dark,
Rise far below
Where gleam thy tranquil miles, Ontario!

Once I remember —
'Twas in the drear November —
The rough escarpment of the cliffs
With all its bushes, trees and vines
Leafless, or hung with dry leaves faded
By sudden conflagration was invaded.
'Twas night! How strange the red light shines
Upon the Whirlpool in its mystery surprised.
One would have thought that hippogriffs
Were riding, or red Indians disguised
In paint and feathers, through the blazing pines.
Then as the wind-swept fire increased and spread,
Its widening ruins lurid red
Seemed like a city with its towers and shrines
Bright-lighted for some festival of the dead.

What of the Falls? No visitor e'er could know it,
Though painter, Nature-seer or poet,
As we knew all its miracles of glory.
We saw it in manacles of ice enchained,
Its prison-house sustained
By glittering columns vast and hoary.
How many times we safely crost
That tumbled floe made rough by force and frost;
Stood underneath where every whirling drop that fell
Changed into diamonds Genie-tost
To build a citadel
Of crystal for a winter's moon!
We saw the moon-bow floating in the mist
That rises like pale incense night and noon,
A hovering halo of dim colors — amethyst
And pink and dying green —
As in a vision seen.

How have they changed and chained thee,
Niagara, king of cataracts!
Oh, could no laws or pacts
Keep thee from sordid traffic? Men profaned thee
When thou wert bent to labor day and night,
Compelled to fashion fire and light,
To build and draw and forge by thy eternal might.

Yet naught can spoil thy majesty!
Methinks I stand again upon that lofty hight
Wherefrom the gaze drops to thy morrised flood
Where tender emerald green and creamy white
In changeless changing pattern mingle;
I hear the enormous plunge and thud
Of desperate waters striving to be free;
The ear is full of jargons and the jingles
Of silver chains, of oceanic roars
Where the unconquered Horseshoe pours
Its prodigal largess from the Great Lakes' boundless stores.

Once more I fain would see
That beautiful landscape where thy seat,
Benign De Veaux, is fortunately placed.
Once more how gladly would I now repeat
Dear memories not-to-be-effaced
And stand with old friends in the sacred shades
And wander down the grassy glades
And lift mine eyes where wonder never fades
Up to the eddying vapor-column
That rises exquisite and solemn
Above the mighty caldron of Niagara's cascades,
But nay!
My wandering feet
Are led by Destiny another way.
I send my Spirit forth to greet
Old friends, old scholars. I must stay
And only voice the memories of a vanished day.