"Now, father, soon I graduate,
And those who long have shown
How well they trust me, want their pay,
And I can stand a loan."
JOHN CURTIS UNDERWOOD. Trinity Tablet.
~After the Game.~
They played at cards on the yellow sand.
When the fields and the trees were green,
She thought that the trump was in her hand,
He thought that he held the queen.
But winter has come, and they both have strayed
Away from the throbbing wave—
He finds 'twas only the deuce she played,
She finds that he played the knave.
Columbia Spectator.
~Old Days.~
Sing a song of old days,
Old days and true,
True days and bold days,
Deeds to dare and do.
Quarter-staff and buckles
Trip, turn and tread—
Tapped upon the knuckles,
Rapped upon the head.
Pouch and pocket-fillings,
Knavery and worse—
Oh, the crowns and shillings
In the miser's purse!
Tumbled into limbo,
Picking thro' the locks,
Fast with arms akimbo,
Stewing in the stocks.