Page:In memoriam (IA inmemoriam00tennrich).pdf/145



beside the reverend walls In which of old I wore the gown; I roved at random through the town, And saw the tumult of the halls;

And heard once more in college fanes The storm their high-built organs make, And thunder-music, rolling, shake The prophets blazon'd on the panes;

And caught once more the distant shout, The measured pulse of racing oars Among the willows; paced the shores And many a bridge, and all about

The same gray flats again, and felt The same, but not the same; and last Up that long walk of limes I past To see the rooms in which he dwelt.