And when our guns were at full play,
As o'er the creaking stage we hauled them,
Some first-class words got strayed away,
And would not come back when we called them
We had to grope and stumble round,
Just where our style was most inflated:
Humility and nerve, we found,
Were trumps, that day we graduated!
Ah me! it all was bitter-sweet—
That time of music, flowers, and splendor;