WILLIAM A. THOMPSON.
_Wesleyan Literary Monthly_.
[Illustration: "THAT SWEET GIRL GRADUATE."]
~That Sweet Girl Graduate.~
So stately and so dignified
She looks in cap and gown,
I hardly dare to speak to her,
This grad. of great renown.
I scarcely can believe my eyes!
It surely can't be she
Who always seemed so very shy,
So very coy to me!
But suddenly the spell departs,
And I give thanks to Fate;
For anxiously she asks me if
Her mortar-board's on straight.
_Harvard Lampoon._
~Faint Heart.~
My lady fair
Her golden hair
Lets fall a-down her shoulder.
I'd steal a tress,--
She's no redress,--
Were I a little bolder.
From her sweet lip
A bee might sip,
Sweeter than rose-leaf's savor.
A kiss I'd take,--
No cry she'd make,--
Were I a little braver.
Her neat, trim waist
Just suits my taste;
Close in my arms I'd fold her,
And clasp her tight,--
She'd feel no fright,--
Were I a little bolder.
She's waiting now
'Till I find how
To ask of her a favor.
She'll be my wife,--
I'd stake my life,--
When I'm a little braver.
HARLAN COLBY PEARSON.
_Dartmouth Literary Monthly_.
~A Spring Lament.~
The spring is come; warm breezes blow;
It doesn't make me happy, tho';--
For seasons' changes only bring
To me the pain of ordering
Another suit.
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