News
Cambridge Residents Slam Council Proposal to Delay Bike Lane Construction
News
‘Gender-Affirming Slay Fest’: Harvard College QSA Hosts Annual Queer Prom
News
‘Not Being Nerds’: Harvard Students Dance to Tinashe at Yardfest
News
Wrongful Death Trial Against CAMHS Employee Over 2015 Student Suicide To Begin Tuesday
News
Cornel West, Harvard Affiliates Call for University to Divest from ‘Israeli Apartheid’ at Rally
DANTE! they would call thee stern,
Unsympathetic they,
And to a lighter muse they turn
From thy sweet song away, -
Ah, could they thy soft spirit learn
As I have learned to-day.
Alas! how piteously doth tell
Thy sorrow-throbbing lay,
Where through the murky fumes of hell
The soul-ghosts never stay,
But whirl in time to the spectral knell
That tolls all hope away.
However, mid that dead, damned host,
A snowy pair there flew,
By darker thousands onward forced,
Yet never were they two, -
"A heart's true love is never lost";
Would God that it were true!
"No more we read that day," - thy song
With tears, O poet, is sown, -
But onward whirled their orb along,
And onward whirls my own;
Ah, blest were they mid that fated throng, -
For I am there alone.
Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.