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Fair Harvard! thy sons to thy jubilee throng,
And with blessings surrender thee o'er, By these festival rites from the age that is past,
To the age that is waiting before.
O relic and type of our ancestors' worth.
That has long kept their memory warm.
First flower of their wilderness! star of their night!
Calm rising through change and through storm!
At the close of the Pierian concert in the Union last night the orchestra played "Fair Harvard." It is a positive fact that not more than one-fourth of those present--and there were over five hundred--made even an attempt at singing. Only about one-half of those who did make the attempt seemed in the least confident of the words. It is disgraceful that so few men know even the first verse of their College song. We are printing the first verse, and hope that every man will make himself thoroughly familiar with it, so that on future occasions when he is expected to sing "Fair Harvard," he will know the actual words and not have to mumble unmeaning sounds.
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