Ekpoet of Boaed of General Managers. 65 



But tlie music of memory liugers, time threatens her structures in vain, 

 All castles the ages shall crumble, save the shimmering castles of Spain. 



The beggar forlorn at the convent, the ages' invincible knight, 



These pictures shall cheer and admonish till time shall be shorn of his 



might, 

 And ever to him who regards them, though hope may have mocked him, 



they'll say, 

 "Take heart — from the darkness that's thickest, there blossoms the 



ravishing day! " 



III. 



O Progress, with thy restless eyes, 



Sleepless as fate and tireless as the sun. 

 Thou mighty mother of the world's emprise. 



Here where we bring the trophies thou hast won, 

 Bend thou thine ear and list to our acclaim. 



Stay thy imperial march by land and sea, 

 While this fair temple, vocal with thy name, 



We dedicate to thee ! 



Whatever shall show mankind 



That, spite of history's lying page, 

 Not buried in the years behind. 



But forward lies the golden age ; 

 Whatever here shall worthiest stand, 



The boon of ages yet to be. 

 Best fruitage of the brain and hand. 



We dedicate to thee ! 



Whatever here shall truest teach 



How the round world may wiser grow — 

 The clearer eye, the wider reach. 



The rule of Heaven here below ; 

 What'er makes learning's touch so bright. 



Or wides the boundaries of the free, 

 The jewels of our empire's might 



We dedicate to thee ! 







