ODE ON A COLLEGE FEAST DAY.
(For the Mirror.)
Hark! hear ye not yon footsteps dread
That shook the hall with thundering tread?
With eager haste,
The fellows past.
Each intent on direful work.
High lifts the mighty blade and points the deadly fork!
But hark! the portals sound and pacing forth,
With steps, alas! too slow,