Once led the senior class at Yale,
And had his sheepskin in his trunk.
There, while the crackling flames leaped high,
And serpentine gyrations played
Around the logs of hemlock, dry,
And with the tempest seethed and swayed,
As curled the drowsy wreaths of smoke
Above his pipe, the old man spoke:
"'Twas on a day about like this,
When, fresh from youthful haunts and scenes,