who, when his College course is done, and he has his anchor, dropped down the harbok, and sail& the sea, shall not, as lie furls' his sail aniiing' the Rest" after battling with th`e' storm, dream' of the ays of laughter and of song. AFTER BOHEMIA'S SEAS. My sail is down. The Isles of Rest Loom sweet upon the shadowy lea; I've dropped my rattling anchor chain. In the mirror tide of an idle sea. Out of the West the even-glow Sinks soft upon my weary soul. I would not grasp the helm'anew Nor breast the beckoning billovii's roll. Yet sometimes when a truant breeze Lisps of the song of a wind-swept main, I love to drift in memory Back to the old, old days again. Back to the ring of glasses, Back to the bursts of song, Back to the smiles of lasses, And laughter echoing long. Back to an endless summer With never an autumn's haze, Where skies were blue And friends were true, Back to the old, old days 1 Yale Lit. • 41,t ) c es :4 )
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers