Part 10

Just then I saw an holy Sprite Shed all her radiant beams, And round her shone the source of light Of all the poets' dreams! I plied my pen in sober use, And spent each moment spare In sweet communion with the Muse I met in Harvard Square!

I cried: "Fair Goddess, hear my tale Of sorrow, grief and pain." That made her face an ashen pale, But soon it glowed again! "They placed me here; and this my crime, Writ on their pages fair:-- 'He left his sunny native clime, And came to Harvard Square!'"

"Weep not, my son, thy way is hard, Thy weary journey long-- But thus I choose my favorite bard To sing my sweetest song. I'll strike the key-note of my art And guide with tend'rest care, And breathe a song into thy heart To honor Harvard Square.

"I called old Homer long ago, And made him beg his bread Through seven cities, ye all know, His body fought for, dead. Spurn not oppression's blighting sting, Nor scorn thy lowly fare; By them I'll teach thy soul to sing The songs of Harvard Square.

"I placed great Dante in exile, And Byron had his turns; Then Keats and Shelley smote the while, And my immortal Burns! But thee I'll build a sacred shrine, A store of all my ware; By them I'll teach thy soul to sing 'A place in Harvard Square.'

"To some a store of mystic lore, To some to shine a star: The first I gave to Allan Poe, The last to Paul Dunbar. Since thou hast waited patient, long, Now by my throne I swear To give to thee my sweetest song To sing in Harvard Square."

And when she gave her parting kiss And bade a long farewell, I sat serene in perfect bliss As she forsook my cell. Upon the altar-fire she poured Some incense very rare; Its fragrance sweet my soul assured I'd enter Harvard Square.

Reclining on my couch, I slept A sleep sweet and profound; O'er me the blessed angels kept Their vigil close around. With dawning's smile, my fondest hope Shone radiant and fair: The Justice cut each chain and rope 'Tween me and Harvard Square!

Cell No. 40, East Cambridge Jail, Cambridge, Mass., July 26, 1910

THE END

Though man through life so swiftly wends, And o'er its journey runs his race; Though rough, or smooth, or 'round the bends, In distance putting fleetest friend: Alas! there comes a halting place, A place of rest--the journey's end!

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Transcriber's Notes

Original variations in spelling, hyphenation, and punctuation have been retained except for the following three changes:

Page 29: A comma was added after banks for consistency. (From the Gulf and the Lakes to the Oceans' banks,--)

Page 62: Caucasin was changed to Caucasian (statements which place them with the Caucasian race;)

Page 65: Pharaoahs changed to Pharaohs. (Once in great splendor did thy Pharaohs rule)

Page 22: In the line: "There are homes are our natal, and nothing is fatal," the first "are" may be a typo for "our." Left unchanged.