I'm a Junior whom exams. have left forlorn, Flunked me dead;
So I'll keep the town awake 'till early morn; Paint it red.
At class-meetings I'm a kicker,
Take no water with my liquor,
And a dumb-bell's not thicker
Than my head.
I'm a Senior whose diploma's within reach, Eighty-four.
On Commencement Day you'll hear my maiden-speech; I will soar!
I got through without condition;
I'm a mass of erudition;
Do you know of a position!"
OUR STREET
"Our street is still and silent,
Grass grows from curb to curb,
No baker's bells
With jangling knells
Our studious minds disturb.
No organ grinders ever call,
No hucksters mar our peace;
For traffic shuns our neighborhood
And leaves us to our ease.
But now it lives and brightens,
Assumes a livelier hue;
The pavements wide,
On either side,
Would seem to feel it too.
You might not note the difference,
The change from grave to gay,
But I can tell, and know full well,
Priscilla walks our way."
Shortly after his return to college Richard celebrated his nineteenth birthday, and received these letters from his father and mother:
April 17th, 1883.
MY DEAR BOY:
When I was thinking what I could give to you to-morrow, I remembered the story of Herder, who when he was old and weak and they brought him food and wine asked for "a great thought to quicken him."