Legacy of a Class Long Ago by Hilda Friday

Oh hallowed halls of college old

Where souls of all your kin commune

In thee laughter echoes bold

From deadly winter to kindest June

Thy gleaming lights and shining walls

wash thy habitants aglow

With nectar and ambrosia’s thrall

Our staccato heartbeats slow

We’ve laid our marks upon thine floors

thine taste upon our lips

Thou art solace from our lonely wars

All other sustenance do thee eclipse

Yet when moon has turned from honey

pastures lose their emerald sheen

Thy radiance no longer seems as sunny

From thy nurture we must wean

Thine children bid your thrones adieu

Thy audience disperses

From the nest the flock hast flew

fearful of thy verses

That which many hearts has broke –oh!

Canst thou be the halls of Foco?