Till the tide turns.
Time enough, love, to be lifting
'Gainst the waves, then, thy oar
When the tide turns.
Dreams are sweet, love, e'er the shifting
Shows how false is the shore,
When the tide turns.
ELIZABETH SANDERSON.
_University of California Magazine._
"_Whence all these verses?" you ask me.
Would that I knew!
"How came they written?"--You task me,
Who can tell, who!
Stripping a butterfly's pinions
To learn how they grew;
Wasting a violet's dominions
To search for the dew;
Spoiling the odor, the juices,
The flavor, the hue;
Rifling the haunts of the Muses,
For secrets and clue!
All one can say is: "Sir Quibbler,
Once on a time,
Songs in the heart of the scribbler
Sang into rhyme;
Latin lost all its enchantment;
Logic was worse;
Joy claimed its rights; the result is
Just 'college verse_.'"
End of Project Gutenberg's Cap and Gown, Selected by Frederic Knowles
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