Send me the form who knows what’s yet to be.”
A shadow rose and said, “You call, I’m here;
Thy future leads thee to the Stygian shore,
And none shall weep for thee a single tear.”
“Avaunt!” I cried, “I will not hear thee more.”
ALMA MATER “PENNSYLVANIA.”
I see thee, dear “Old Penn,” in silhouette,
Far back along the road on which I came;