Albright College - Speculum Yearbook (Reading, PA)

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Tlzirty-Three But stop, gaze down upon the mass Of those who, travel worn, despair, And fainting, sink beside the way. . The pain of stricken men smites us With its dull woe. Whence have we hearts To feel and eyes to see their need If not for us to aid? What good A piled-up treasure sack to us If more than we can use we glean, Down in the dusty road, lift up The man whose strength is almost spent, The wells are deep, strong arms and ropes Of truth we need to -draw therefrom, The power to fill their cups is ours, To quench another's thirst, to feed The famine stricken-this The best use to be made of strength And truth and God's free gift of life. For see, far down the vale Where gleams Scarce one faint ray of sunlight warm, The highway ends-a cold dull stream Rolls its full tide for all to cross. Each one must pitch his evening tent Beside the bank, lay down the load He guarded thither with such care, Divest himself of traveler's garb, And all alone the waters cross. Who so has wasted strength to drag A treasure useless to him now, Exhausted, strikes the wave in vain, The shore beyond he cannot reach. But he whose limbs have gained more strength In toil that helped his brother on, lVIay brave the current valiantly. The broad, dark wave lights up for him, A swimmer strong, he gains the shore Beyond, where the eternal sun Shines on him ever. So be ours O class of IQI2 to end The traveled way in triumph full. The call of service rings to us, The needy of the world press near. Qur stores are full, ours is the wealth A hundred generations stored. The brimming cup we well may turn To cool a thirstier lip, to bless The one whose need is deeper far Than we have ever known. 0 well The Words ring clear to guide us on 3- Not what we give, but what we share, The gift without the giver is bare, Who feeds the starving beggar feeds three- Himself, his hungry neighbor and me. E. B. L

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CLASS POEM --1912 The broad, white highway teems with lifeg Unnumbered men go by. And we As yet unstained by travel dust, Stand by and watch the crowd move on, Note how each bears his load, how looks His eye upon his fellow's pain Gr joyg who travel sore, complainsg Who cheerfully plods on, with smiles To aid another one, forgets His own distress. Whom we admire VVe fain would travel with. Look ye, There go a band of merry folk. No burdens they of good or ill To bearg each with a laugh pass by The toilers on the way. If we Were of their throng, we'd waive aside The hands outstretched imploring aid, Refuse the load of Earthls grim woe, Alike with it, the goodly thingsg Weld have no shoulder trained to lift The treasured gold from mines beyond The distant hillsg no tent to pitch By cool wave's brim when even comes. Shall we join with the merry folk? Ah, no, 'tis better far to have The mingled good and ill than naught Of either one. We look elsewhere For those whose ranks we'll join. Here come Some stalwart travelers, strong of limb, Their shoulders Ht the load with ease, Their feet well shod, their hands grasp Staves. The highway offers them no strain. They forward press to where dark cliffs Loom bare and jagged to the sight. Theirs is the hope to skirt the brink Of yawning chasms Where the gold Rolled down by mountain torrents, lies. They see no need of those they pass. Parched lips beg water. Shall the strong . Pause in the march and bend themselves To tasks that any hand may do? No! let the weaker ones, less fit For rapid progress, golden gains, Draw water from the wells and give. They travel on. Our eyes light up With admiration for their strength. Our own hopes gleam on visions fairy The strength of youth and strong desire To show some prowess on the way Would urge us down to join their throng. Thirty-Two

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