~The Unwilling Muse.~
Oh nothing in all life worse is,
For abating superfluous pride,
Than having to scribble on verses
With the editor waiting outside;
I am hearing a lecture on Shelley,
Where I ought to be able to dream,
But my brain is as vapid as jelly.
And I cannot alight on a theme.
The bell rings. My friend, the Professor,
Is beginning to read out the roll.
How time drags! Am I present? Oh, yes, sir,
But, oh, what a blank is my soul.
I fear that my cunning has left me,
Inspiration refuses to guide,
The rouse of her aid has bereft me,
And the editor's waiting outside.
GUY WETMORE CARRYL. Columbia Spectator.
~A Written Lesson.~
I was happy that day,
For I knew what to say,
And I knew how to tell it;
But I found with dismay,
As is always the way,
When I know what to say,
And know how to tell it,
That I know what to say
But I never can spell it.
S.W. CHAMBERLAIN. Vassar Miscellany.
[Illustration: "THE IDEAL CO-ED">[
~The Deal Closed.~
The ideal co-ed is a thing of books,
A creature of brain entirely;
With stooping shoulders and studious looks,
She digs all day and half the night;
People say she is wondrous bright,
But her figure's an awful sight!
Her thoughts are deep in the classic past,
She only thinks of A. B. at last;
She has fled this world and its masculine charms,
And a refuge found in Minerva's arms.