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Searching For Macmillan Hall

When we walk the campus
			to what used to be the center,
			we might miss the venerable place.
			Taller piles of brick and towers
			obscure the central space
			of Western Pennsylvania brownstone.
			Who hasn’t heard the poet moan:
			“Present concerns shroud the past;
			Granddad’s principles will not last.”

			But as we turn the corner 
			at the edge of vast Old Main,
			we may glimpse a simpler grace
			in the Ur-construction
			of Washington College
			(before Jefferson was spackled on)
			and on higher ground,
			raised up from lower down
			near the center of the town.
			
			We’ll see the wings added
			before the world flew west
			past our hills to flatter nests.
			Maybe we’ll hear that vines
			grew up the extended wings,	
			that J-men felt like ivy kings!
			Then one will say, “A trustee quipped 
		 	that vines weaken most things.”
			Presto, the vines are stripped.
		
			Another then will say, “A sage opined
			that walls are firmer when envined.”
			A committee will study the case
			and advise us to coat the face
			with a super-brick-embracing kind
			of paint that holds old walls in place.	
			“Save the symbol!” We’ll apply the cure.
			Is paint sufficient to insure
			that we will keep our symbol pure?
	
			I don’t know, but here’s the plan:
			sustain Grandad’s dream, if we can;
			and if we’ve mislaid the liberal arts,
			let’s find out where they are, Dear Hearts!

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