~The Critic.~
"Are you a LAMPOON man? Not really!
Oh, dear, though, I know you must be!
That's why you've been smiling so queerly—
My goodness, you're studying me!
Now, what have I said that is funny?
And oh, will you publish it soon?"
'Tis thus, with a voice sweet as honey,
She mentions the HARVARD LAMPOON.
"Indeed, yes, I see it quite often,
The pictures are simply inane;
The verses and jokes—they would soften
An average Vassar girl's brain.
Of course they are killingly comic;
I laugh, but I feel like a loon!"
And thus, with a fierceness atomic,
She censures the HARVARD LAMPOON.
"But then they are bright, I don't doubt them,
And very artistic, of course!
Outsiders don't know all about them,
You have to explain the—the—'horse.'
Do send me that sweet book of 'pickings,'
I hear you will publish in June."
And thus she gives over her flickings,
And praises the HARVARD LAMPOON.
S.F. BATCHELDER. Harvard Lampoon.
~Her Leghorn Hat.~
Her leghorn hat has rows on rows
Of ribbon, tied with charming bows.
The crown is wreathed in dainty green,
And from their leaves there peep between
Some rosebuds white as winter snows.
The brim's so large, whene'er it blows,
Her face is hid from friends and foes,
As all must know who once have seen
Her leghorn hat.
I wonder why it droops and flows
About her face; howe'er she pose,
It always serves her as a screen;
I cannot guess, and yet I ween
It keeps the freckles from her nose,
Her leghorn hat.
Yale Record.