Furman University - Bonhomie Yearbook (Greenville, SC)

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Alma illatn- THE Mountain City is her home, A mountain river laves her feet, But from far coasts her children come, ----- And crown her brow with flowers sweet; ==== And neath their shade they rest secure, And drink from wisdom’s fountain pure, And rally, loyal sons and true, ’Round our dear Alma Mater. A ship of royal make is she, And brings her treasures from afar, Her truth it is that makes us free, And shines her beacon like a star. ’Twas Furman’s hand that laid her keel, And Judson set her ribs of steel; The Fathers, prayerful for our weal, Launched our dear Alma Mater. A mother gentle, fair and wise, And grave with weight of storied lore, She greets us with love’s radiant eyes, And chains our hearts forevermore. Old Furman! grateful sons are we, Our love, our lives we give to thee; We’ll keep faith’s vow to serve but thee, Our own dear Alma Mater. -EDWIN M. ROTE AT 21

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Faculty

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THE VOICE OF THE MOUNTAIN A youth was once climbing the mountain height. Driven by love of the splendor and light Which covered the mountain seen afar. 1 le said, I will go as a strong active boy To dare and to do and to have all the joy That comes to the man who follows his star. And the mountain was fair. Touched with a majesty wondrous and rare; With her myriad changings of light and shade, Deep gorges and peaks all splendidly made. She rose like a joy in the cool, piercing air. The way was hard, but the youth had no fright: And though pleasure soon faded away from his sight. And the splendor was lost in a misty haze, lie pressed for the honor of glories And applause of men for the difficult deed, lie said I will go through the mist and the maze To dare and to do and receive all the praise. For tis mine to stand on the mountain height. .Mine by my strength and my will decreed. I hit the mountain rose high. Rearing her form in the depths of the sky; And her difficult passes and ways untaught With treacherous guile and dangers fraught Called for the spirit to do or to die. lie pressed for the goal, but forever the height Still spread to the heavens away Horn his sight. Twas cold, and the barren and slippery waste Stung the dull sense to a throbbing fright; For down far below him in silent haste Upward were pressing the shades of the night. Me thought of the hollowness, then of the fame. Whose glory he strove for, while a voice Tingled his ears with a curse on his choice. It said: “To gain what thou wishes!, an honored name. Thou must will to go through the shadows and shame. To toil and endure for the cause of right. To throw in the darkness a shaft of light. To dare and to do and to take all the blame.” And the mountain was cold. Chilled by his spirit so thoughtlessly bold: Her glories she held from his selfish ken. And turned all her treasure to other men. hose eyes afar off could en joy her gold. — Gkokck W. Cox