THEY are old and worn and dreary, Wentworth, Reed, and Thornton Halls, Not by half so bright and cheery As our later, modern walls; They don't "stack up" with New Hampshire Or with Massachusetts Row, And they're dark, a trifle damp, sir, These old "dorms" of long ago. Yet I swear dreams cling about them Of the ancient Indian days, No smart sophomore may flout them When he speaks a building's praise; They have faced more wintry weather Housed more lads, these pioneers, Than all new ones put together, Reared in late, affluent years. Sons of Wheelock without number, Good sons, great sons, stanch and true, Sons who now have gone to slumber, Sons who never saw the new, Toiled in these old halls of knowledge Dream-lit by their young desires, And they made up Dartmouth College, — For these same sons were our sires. Thornton may look rough and musty, Reed may lack luxurious style, Wentworth's bedrooms may be dusty, Bathrooms, too, seem short of tile; They don't "class" with Dartmouth's latest, Those on Massachusetts Row, But these "dorms" are still our greatest, — Classic links with long ago. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ASOLANDO: EPILOGUE by ROBERT BROWNING THE MEMORY OF MARTHA by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ACT 5 (MIDNIGHT) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH OH, WHEN I DIE by WILLIAM LAIRD BROWN TWO VOICES by VALERY YAKOVLEVICH BRYUSOV ELEGY ON CAPTAIN MATTHEW HENDERSON by ROBERT BURNS BODY AND SPIRIT by ELLEN MAGRATH CARROLL |