No more the archway dark and grim,
No more the tortuous staircase dim
Wake to a glow of living light,
When Jones's sisters, like a flight
Of tuneful birds in plumage gay
Come into College, in the May.
The little girl in grey is gone,
Who like a silvery marsh-flower shone
What time the long and strenuous train
Of eights round Grassy pulled amain.