We're a-growing awful learnèd,—
There's lots more of the kind,—
But we do not mind confessing
That it's all a Beastly Grind.
MARY HOLLANDS McLEAN. Wellesley Lyrics.
~A Change of Heart.~
I knew he cut his classes, and I'd heard him flunk in history,
And how he dared say "not prepared" so often was a mystery.
He'd sometimes cram for an exam., but seldom knew a word in it.
His parted hair grew long and fair; I thought he looked absurd in it.
I felt regret whene'er we met, and bowed with utmost gravity;
I didn't dream he'd joined the team—I thought him all depravity.
So when I found, at Haight Street ground, how great was his agility,
I oped my eyes in marked surprise, amazed at his ability.
He tackled hard, gained many a yard, place-kicked and charged
successively;
He turned the edge of the flying wedge, and interfered aggressively!
He bucked the line! I thought it fine, and shouted out excitedly;
He passed the ball behind them all! I saw the scheme delightedly.
He slipped about the line without a thought of trip or fumbling,
When to the din of tooting tin a crowd on him came tumbling.
I felt a chill, my heart stood still, when those mean boys fell down on
him,
His clothes were torn, his nose cap gone, and streaks of black and brown
on him.
He scored a touchdown then, and such a frenzy I did never see;
It made the umpire's whistle dumb, and overwhelmed the referee.
Then when he punted out in front, though hoarse with loud admiring,
I with, delight yelled, "He's all right!" for they were all inquiring.
The game was won, and we'd begun to cheer each man respectively;
We rah! rah! rahed! and blew horns hard, and shook our flags
effectively;
His eyes shone bright, as left and right they called to him vivaciously;
I my disdain recalled with pain, and waved my banner graciously.