Words by Henry Rutgers Conger, Class of 1899
Music: Traditional – “Annie Lisle”
Dying echoes fill the valley,
Heralding the night,
As we gather on the campus
In the waning light.
In the west the sunset’s crimson
All the heaven fills,
And it’s glory rims the edges
Of our purple hills.
Fast the length’ning shadows gather,
Sunset dims to grey,
And the calling winds of evening
Through the branches play.
With the far stars pale above them
While day’s tumult stills,
Watching us who know and love them
Stand the purple hills.
Safe within our little valley
From the outer strife,
Are inshrined the happy mem’ries
Of our college life.
And when darker days have found us,
Mid this old world’s ills,
Still our hearts will turn with gladness
To our purple hills.