- Waters, Henry F.
John Harvard and His Ancestry; Part Second
New England Historic Genealogical Society, Boston, 1886, Wraps, , , Good
47 pp. Frontis, photographic print (heliotype) of the early home of John Harvard's mother. Wraps discolored with chipping all around, split at top of spine. Some pages unopened, generally very good within. John Harvard emigrated to New England in May 1637. In Charlestown, Mass. he was appointed minister, but in September 1638 he died of tuberculosis. Harvard bequeathed his library of 400 volumes and a considerable sum of money to the New College, Cambridge, which was subsequently named Harvard College in 1639. Much is unknown of the early history of Harvard College because it, and John Harvard's books, were destroyed by fire in 1674. Nevertheless the University bears his name. Considerable fascinating detail herein, including a probate of the will of Thomas Rogers of Stratford upon Avon, alleged to have known a playwright named Shakespeare. The heliotype frontis illustrates his wife Katherine's house. Katherine was Harvard's mother.
FLOWER, that I hold in my hand, Waxen and white and unwoful, Perfect with your race’s lovely perfection, Pure as the dream of a child just descended from the heavens, Chaste as the thought of the maid on whose sight first shines the glow of love’s planet, Trustful as a boy who holds the world in hands of power unrelaxing, Flower, graceful, lovely, Lo! I give you to the waves that roll across the ocean’s expanses. I watch you like a star on the waters, I watch you floating away in the distance; The ocean gives you reception and dwelling, The ocean with the sweep of its world-encircling currents, With its storms and winds,— Mutable home where all is each and each is other. You show no signs of terror, You float to the mid-most whirlpool, You are made one with the unending streams, The moon and stars are reflected in your changed bosom, The measureless winds enfold you with love as a garment. Night and day and time are contained in your embraces, Clouds emerge from your heart and return, Life and death are as slender ripples across your central calmness, Hope and wishing and longing and tumult are over, Unto the all, your cradle and grave, your father-mother, You have returned, O flower transfigured! O flower having reached your fruition!Louis James Block [1851-1927]