Nazareth Academy - Lanthorn Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

Page 9 text:

Qeefzsfaremm TWENTY-ONE lfqxafmwfwffsef To Nazareth On Her Golden Jubilee Fifty years! 0 Mother mine, Let thy lovely head incline To the halting verse I bring, As with heart athrob to sing Love in lyrics' minted gold, Love in tenderest music told, Find but berry branch all red, To adorn thy queenly head,- Wilding branch I've plucked for thee, Lady, for thy Jubilee. Fifty rounded years of gold, With the yellow sheaves they hold, Rich and ripe, a precious hoard, In thy noble bosom stored, Planted in the heat and sun- Thy long labors but begun- Watered with the dew of tears, Dews that gem the chastening years, While upon thy brow they beam, Scintilent with starlike gleam. In the after day shall come Some sweet singer who shall thrum Lutanies all liquid clear, Worthy of thy listening ear. She shall sing thy glories o'er With a grace unheard before, Sing thy high austerity, Heart of golden charity, Honored in thy children's prize, Oh, thou mother sweetly wise. She shall sing thy earlier days, And thy quiet, humble ways, When God walked e'en at thy side,- Didst entreat Him still to bide Till the eventide grew gray, When His Truth should light thy way. She shall sing those kindled souls Whom eternal light enfolds,-- Rose and Raphael, sweet De Sales,- E'en the lily's beauty pales Set beside their saintliness, They who knew the toil and stress Of the building of the pile That should grace the after-while, The embodied purity, White, utter strength of sanctity That should bless and glorify Maidenhood,-should testify To one great central truth: Five

Page 8 text:

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ix TWENTY-ONE 'VN All the majesties of earth, All the hope of higher birth, All the dreams since time began, Sheltered in the heart of man, All that plays the Godlike part, Finds its home in woman's heart, Radiating sweetly thence, Moves to finer reverence, In the spirit high of youth Teaches beauty, love and truth. This thy life-dream, Mother mine, Kindled with a spark divine, This I read in thy clear eyes- Thy teaching, born in Paradise- While I nestled at thy feet And drank thy accents honey-sweet. Now thy Golden Year has come, Who shall reckon up the sum Of thy giving and thy gift? She must needs the curtain lift Of the sanctuaried heart, And discern thy mother-part In nobilities undreamed, In renouncements that oft seemed Price too dear-too dear to pay Where life's utter sweetness lay,- For soul-whiteness traficing- Price indeed of priceless thing. She would trace the singing course Of the sun-stream to its source,- Little nameless deeds of love, Jewel trove, in worth above,- That have overflowed the heart And have played an undreamed part In some graceless, sunless life, Wooing peace where storms were rife She must to your scattering hand Trace the growth on fertile land- Rooted faith and oaken will, Breasting broad opinion still, Burgeoning in truth's clear light Into symmetry of right. Thou, O Lady of my theme, Art the light of hope and dream, Lutanies of love I sing, Lowlily,-though I would bring Stately music, Mother mine, To grace this Golden Year of thine. I would hymn what thou hast been, And the glories thou shalt win, I would praise thee as thou art, For I know thy mother-heart. I would glean thy deeds that burn, Into History's golden urn. -A Daughter of Nazareth