Official Register of the Officers and Cadets

Front Cover
United States Military Academy Print. Office, 1942
 

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Page 36 - WHENEVER Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him : He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored, and imperially slim. , And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked; But still he fluttered pulses when he said, "Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked. And he was rich — yes, richer than a king — And admirably schooled in every grace: In fine, we thought that he was everything To make us wish that we were in his place. So...
Page 44 - All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past. Let us alone. What pleasure can we have To war with evil ? Is there any peace In ever climbing up the climbing wave ? All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave In silence; ripen, fall and cease: Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.
Page 36 - Far-called, our navies melt away, On dune and headland sinks the fire; Lo all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre.
Page 35 - WE cannot kindle when we will The fire which in the heart resides; The spirit bloweth and is still, In mystery our soul abides. But tasks in hours of insight will'd Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd.
Page 34 - Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load...
Page 39 - Poetry is the image of man and nature, The obstacles which stand in the way of the fidelity of the Biographer and Historian, and of their consequent utility, are incalculably greater than those which are to be encountered by the Poet who has an adequate notion of the dignity of his art. The Poet writes under one restriction only, namely, that of the necessity of giving immediate pleasure...
Page 35 - With aching hands and bleeding feet We 'dig and heap, lay stone on stone ; We bear the burden and the heat Of the long day, and wish 'twere done. Not till the hours of light return All we have built do we discern.
Page 72 - I give it as my fixed opinion that but for our graduated cadets the war between the United States and Mexico might, and probably would, have lasted some four or five years, with, in its first half, more defeats than victories falling to our share; whereas in less than two campaigns we conquered a great country and a peace without the loss of a single battle or skirmish.
Page 42 - Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth. I love your majesty According to my bond; nor more nor less.
Page 39 - ... die. Surely the earth, that's wise being very old, Needs not our help. Then loose me, love, and hold Thy sultry hair up from my face ; that I May pour for thee this golden wine, brim-high, Till round the glass thy fingers glow like gold. We'll drown all hours : thy song, while hours are toll'd, Shall leap, as fountains veil the changing sky. Now kiss, and...

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