And radiant smiles of love that will not fade;

Our fathers with the keys to all the creeds

Are there still strong in faith and pure in deeds.

[Pg 42]

[Pg 42]

OUR PILGRIMAGE

The merry band that started long ago

Upon their journey to a-Becket's shrine,

Were happy that a poet's pen divine

Inspired by all a genial wit can know,

Or sympathetic human heart bestow,

Recorded in immortal rhythmic line,

As sweet as breath of old Provencal wine,

Their pilgrim tales and songs of joy and woe.

We start to-night upon our pilgrimage,

Who worship at a holier shrine than they—

The living temple of the sacred muse:

May she who is our patron saint infuse,

Illume our souls; and raise some Pen, I pray,

To leave the world a noble heritage.

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