To the Editor of the Crimson:
At sixty-six I did not need your name
To tell that you'd already won to fame:
The careless, youthful twinkle in you eye
Remained as symbol for, and reason why.
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Your mind was still as keen to seek and find
Those scraps of truth by others left behind. . .
Sufficed the hearing and the sight to know
That this great spirit's home lay here below.
This man amassed no venom as he grew
To pour upon a censure only true.
He did not live to hate and hate to live.
While wadding back the joy he well could give.
He quickly found his hold--more slowly learned
To scale the heights at first but ill-discerned;
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Gift Goal Set For $500,000
