_Sequoia_.
~His Letter.~
"Dear Father:
Please excuse," he wrote,
"The hurried shortness of this note,
But studies so demand attention
That I have barely time to mention
That I am well, and add that I
Lack funds; please send me some. Good-by.
Your loving son."
He signed his name,
And hastened to the--foot-ball game.
W.R. HEREFORD.
_Harvard Lampoon._
~The Unwilling Muse.~
Oh nothing in all life worse is,
For abating superfluous pride,
Than having to scribble on verses
With the editor waiting outside;
I am hearing a lecture on Shelley,
Where I ought to be able to dream,
But my brain is as vapid as jelly.
And I cannot alight on a theme.
The bell rings. My friend, the Professor,
Is beginning to read out the roll.
How time drags! Am I present? Oh, yes, sir,
But, oh, what a blank is my soul.
I fear that my cunning has left me,
Inspiration refuses to guide,
The rouse of her aid has bereft me,
And the editor's waiting outside.
GUY WETMORE CARRYL.
_Columbia Spectator._
~A Written Lesson.~
I was happy that day,
For I knew what to say,
And I knew how to tell it;
But I found with dismay,
As is always the way,
When I know what to say,
And know how to tell it,
That I know what to say
But I never can spell it.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119