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How can I write about what I do, when I do nothing! Here I have spent a whole day, and absolutely done nothing. In the morning the folks went out to look for apartments, leaving Mabel and me alone. I had to amuse Mabel, for she is so very lonely. So I made paper dolls for her, and kept her amused till lunch time. they all came home about that time, bringing good news with them. They had at last got rooms. After dinner we went out to walk, and went into the D...s. They were having Vespers, and we stayed a little while to the service. I am afraid we are going to be disappointed in our lodgings. The entrance is not good. I don't know yet what we shall do. By tomorrow I think it will be decided. I finished a letter to Kathchen to-day. I am
name on the list of "Letters written", and still more when I can write one on the list of those received, but that is not often.
Thursday. Dec. 1.
We are again disappointed. We have had to give up our rooms. The woman was very disobliging, and would not give us the rooms unless we would pay her 30 francs more. We were also not to eat in the parlor, and could only have three beds. The folks are all out again in their weary search.
Friday Dec. 2.
Again it is the same. Mabel and I are at home and waiting for the folks to return to luncheon. Evening. Uncle T. Mother, Jennie, and I, went to the opera this evening. It was the Ballo in Maschera. It might have been stupid if it hadn't been for a pretty little page who spoilt her own part, and made
This evening we went to see some private theatricals, got up by the Americans and English. They played "The Little Demon", and "Poor Pillicoddy." In the former, there was only one good actor, who acted the part of the little demon. He was a boy named Arthur Kelson. There was only one professional actor there, and the only paid one, for all the rest gave their services, as it was for the benefit of some Asylum. This actor, ... Wylie, was speaking (in the play) when a baby out in the audience, cried. That threw him entirely out of his part, & he had to stop! The other man, who was on the stage, said "Oh that's nothing, only a baby!" This other miserable
Sunday Dec. 4.
This morning, Jennie, Uncle Tooker, and I went into some of the churches. At noon, Uncle went away. We were so sorry to have him go. In the afternoon, we went around to a little house that we had looked at before, and took it. So that's settled.
Monday Dec. 5.
Today I stayed in the house, and read, and packed the trunks, that is
We stayed at home and unpacked. What a stupid journal this is! Only getting up, going to bed, eating, drinking, sleeping, reading, & walking! I suppose I shall not have any thing better to say if I go to school, for then it will be nothing but study! Still, although it looks stupid on paper, I am really having a nice time. We have such fun in this darling little house. I wish Uncle Tasker had seen it, so he could tell the folks at home about it. It is very cosy, only the sun won't come into the parlor, and so we sit in the dining room. I haven't
Wednesday Dec. 7.
To-day we made a call. On the Cislas. Then we did a few errands, and spent the rest of the day at home. I wrote to Annie Copp. That's just the way it goes! Nothing interesting to tell about. What do people put in journals
I must tell you about our landlord He is a Frenchman, and an old bachelor. His name is Hippolito Jean-veau. Jennie is setting her cap for him, or rather, he is setting his cap for her. He went out yesterday in
This morning we stayed at home, as usual. In the afternoon we went to the library, and each got a book. Jennie got "John Marshmont's Legacy," Mabel "The Black Princess," and I "Agatha's Husband," by Miss Mullock. It is very nice. I finished it last night.
Went to the other library at which we had a subscription. We got Machiavelli's "History of Florence," Vasari's "Lives of the
This morning Father and Jennie went to the railway station to meet Mrs Olds, but she did not come in that train. So this afternoon they went out again, and I with them. On our way, we stopped at a pionoforte establishment, and hired a piano. It is coming home Monday. At the railway station we had to get tickets, for the privilege of waiting there for Mrs Olds! When the train came, Mrs Olds was there, and we all got into a carriage and rode home. If Nelson gets through with his studies, he will perhaps come here to go with us to Paris. In two weeks or less it will be Christmas. How we shall miss all our friends then! I am afraid we won't have
This morning Father & Mother went to the American Chapel. In the afternoon I went to Mr. MacDugals Church. It is so funny. They all stand up during prayers, and the hymns are so queer. Monday
Our piano came home to-day. It is very pretty. It is a Paris piano. I spent most of the time practising. This afternoon I was in the parlor with Jennie, when we had an earthquake!!
Really, we had an earthquake!! The house shook all over. That man in Paris predicted it. He predicted the flood, which has taken place with a vengeance! He says too that at Venice there will be a flood,
I declare, this is wretched! Rain! Rain! Rain!!! I have got such a cold that I feel quite miserable This evening Father read "Enoch Arden." It is beautiful, and said to be the best thing that Tennyson has written.
Nothing new. Read-write-practise!
I might as well leave out this week, for it is so interesting that I fear it will take up too much of your time to read it. For a wonder, it rains to-day! We have had such lovely weather all the week!
Saturday 17. For a wonder, it doesn't
We went to the American Chapel this morning, and in the afternoon
Today we commenced to go to school Mother & Jennie went with us. After they went away, we were taken into a room full of little children, from eight to twelve years old. There, I was shown a seat between two girls, one German, and one English. Mabel was taken into another room. The little girls were all talking and studying out loud, and they made such a racket that I could hardly think. I sat still and heard them recite two lessons History & Arithmetic. Then we had "Recreation," during which I was questioned in a most patronizing manner by those children. "What was my name?." and "Did I like to go to
Eugenie de Guerin.
"There is more power and beauty in the well-kept secret of one's self and one's thoughts, than in the display of a whole heaven that one may have inside one."
Maurice de Guerin.
"Noble thought produces
Noble ends and uses,
Noble hopes are part of Hope, wherever she may be.
Noble thought enhances
Life and all it's chances.
And noble self, is noble song--All this I learn from thee!"
"To David in Heaven."
Better much another man
Makes than I, but much more over,
Make I which not other can."
"Who is the man, by force or skill,
Can stem the torrent of a woman's will?
For if she will, she will, you may depend upon it
And if she won't, she won't, & there's an end on't!"
From a pillow created in Canterbury.
"Where you can give, give freely. There is no grace in a benefit that sticks to the fingers."
"This above all- To thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the
day, thou canst not then be false to
For my pleasing eye and face;
No, nor for my constant heart
For these may change, and turn to ill,
And thus true love may sever.
But love me on, and know not why,
To hast thou the same reason still
To dote upon me ever."
From "Wives and daughters."
"Many a learned man is like the cashier of a banker; he has the key to much money, but the money does not belong to him."
"Sentimental people stir their feelings till they foam, and then think they have full, over-flowing hearts, but it is only air."
"The secret of all power consists in this; to know that others are still more cowardly than we."
"There is nothing new under the sun. Our statesmen of today who use such strange measures to suppress the demands of the age, are only imitating the French clergy of the middle ages who once, to prevent a famine, ordered a three-day fast."
A prophecy, a prophecy! How can one write a prophecy, who has neither the clairvoyant's far-seeing eye, nor the astrologer's all-heavenly, piercing gaze? This riddle can be solved only by a compromise between the Past and Present, a joining of these two great forces for the realization, or rather, idealization, of the third and most interesting to us - the grand and open Future of probabilities - Possibilities may be the more fitting word, but not the more satisfactory, therefore say we again, "Probabilities." Is it better, by a long preamble, to excite still further the evident consuming anxiety for a glimpse into the marvellous "To be"; or immediately to relieve from the thralldom of suspense, that at peace may
(Blair) The first is one whom we shall see no more in these halls, who leaves to become a Happyer creature, doing good to the benighted of this word, our ... herald to China - A stately ship leaves the port, bearing missionaries twain to
the Eastern Empire. Methinks, even now the people wave their handkerchiefs to the departing ship - even now is heard the last farewell.
(Keip) Through greek roots, latin synomyms, sixty minutes a day, and three years college drill,we can safely say that this maiden, ... in ancient love, will never forsake the path of learning, but ever dipping deeper in the fountain
(Hileman) Once thy happiness was complete, but soon was ....
Yet again was it restored, tho' not to the same state. No, another picture has taken its place beneath thy pillow, and now is the song "I'm Waning away, Jean, I'm Waning." In future days we see her Waning - the laurel wreath of fame rejected, lying at her side all forsaken, all awarded to her fine 'Ed.'
(Hiscox) Alas! Another is it our sad duty to chronicle as among the missing, soon to be. These summer evenings glorious, will see her still receiving calls by candle light - again Juliet's sweet tones in the balcony are heard, the dim light of the "candles of the sky"
(Esty) Alack! What do the Fates tell us! Can such mischief be wrought by celestial minds? A faithless youth, a careless maid - For their rashness dearly paid; but, thanks to good sense, peace is again restored, and again is verified the adage that "the course of true love never did run smooth." "Two friends can ne'er be friends - When towards one the feeling tends." Kuckuck, Kuckuck!
(Garnsey) What strange combinations are found, at times! Is it not strange that the luckless Maria Stuart should still find (2 admirers) (1 romantic) in this ...? Even so it is, however, and still sees the Future Lady Stuart and
(Slocum) What means this Kingly dwelling? Is't palace, is't court? Nay, my friend, 'tis the "corner store", a ten story marble building, the whole sale depot of "Raisins, Nuts, Apples, Boots and Shoes, Fish and Dry Goods" proclaimed by the "Sign of the Cod" Opposite we see a palatial, high stoop, brown stone front; in every window flowers bloom, on every table herbaria. A love for Nature is every where shown, from basement to garret. Further on rears its stately outline the grand university which Josiah has endowed, with noble mind.
German] Musician of Bergen waits, waits longingly for his "brightest eyes" coming - The impelling power of the grand organ, the coming physician, ... - and she, in shimmer of satin of pearls, is standing by his side, a blooming, blushing bride.
(Rochester) In future dim we see the Gates of happiness waiting to receive her. E'en now they are ajar, and she is destined e'er to be the treasurer of his heart, unles her mind does chand, and she resolves to be the treasurer of her own alone. But looking deep into the clear late of destiny we see her sitting by the well-spread
(Mitchell) We see a stage, we see an orchestra, we see a multitude of up-turned fans, all waiting in their homage to one who stands before them - all hearts,
(Glover) Well, one can hardly , at times, imagine the things which lie concealed deep down in some hearts, Ah! here is one, alas! alas!! who will show her power, her hidden forces, in driving to their death one doctor, one lawyer, two theologues - the ugliest, the crossest, the grumblingest of wives; the sweetest, most charming, benevolent and guileless of widows. With her cunning boudoir adorned from top to bottom by pictures of her "dear departeds," wreathed in crape[sic] and immortelly[sic]. Thus she sits and weeps after each departure to the spirit-land (for were they not truly martyrs?) waiting for the next, and her
(Rowe) One, devoted in our band, Will go to a distant land. Will clothe young "savages." Will teach them how to write & read, and their young mouths with pudding feed. Then she will return, and visit Vassar College. The "College family" will be called to assemble in the chapel for a few minutes after dinner, to listen to her words of travel, hardships, crusts and bones. She will relate the tale of persecution, of snakes, of Savage Kings, and alligators. Will live honored and respected, it may be , because she will always be away, but we think not. And she
(Stevens) Oh! dear. Who shall decide when doctorrs disappear? Come to our assistance, we languish, we [pinch]!! Such quantities of cadets to choose from -- such fickleness displayed!
(Everett) ... - voice, blue eyes, oh! there is no need of saying "..." - how could we? Whatever home is blest by her smile, be it hat or ... halls, will ever be one of content and happines. Forever can we say, "..."
(Brown) Far from the sunny
Skilled in the history of her people, as in this lesser world, so in the great world will she an historian be - to chronicle the fortunes of her kindred. Even now, we see her staggering under the weight of the wreath of honor and glory awarded her by a grateful people - with rusty armor hung upon its walls, and laurel garlands all about, her room gleams and glimmers in the sunlight - more like a masion's chamber than that of our ... stirring with the pen - but so will it be, and in future time, it will never be said "A prophet is not without hour, even in his own country."
How gently clicks the mallets stroke upon the balls.
So lightly, one can hear the dew that falls,
And the softly-whispered knell
Fifty years hence will see our heroine a stately, dignified old lady,
Nodding kindly to all she meets.
(Smith L. C.) With flowing tresses, dark & wavy,
Glowing, upturned eye
She cometh through the labyrinth mazy
Our singer sweet of poesy.
Let us spend an evening with the poet. Cast your eye about, "here, there, & everywhere" are the sources of her inspiration, in green and gold, in gold and blue. See them shining on their shelves - The fruits of the transcendent genius of this being is every where beholden-take down a volume, look therein-what name upon the title-page? Nay, start not, 'tis but the name of this room's lovely occupant-Yes, the times are changed indeed-Now, a poet draws inspiration from self, from works of self-All these books, this vast library, are her
To Ida & Arthur
Neither a martyr
who first finds
And fast binds
These hearts together
Never to sever?
An ... to her hours
The tour of Europi
A French-roofed cottage
A happy life -
What more could be asked?
"Multum in parvo"
a whole life-history
in three lines
Condensed expressly for the College Catalogue of all its Anna Matildas.
(Sibley) A physician now greets our eyes - one well known to the world. Pictures of her beaming countenance adorn every periodical - Almanacs are daily issued, bearing her seal. 10,000th edition. Read the wonderful cures wrought by the great
(Sherman) Ah! the greatness and goodness of a coming alumna may easier be felt than expressed. We, who foretell the future, deeply feel the honor we receive in sitting next to the ...-hearted philanthropist, and feel ourselves almost great through contiguity to greatness. Yea, once one saw the lip quiver, the eye flash, the mouth settle itself into lines of firmness, when one, our mother, with a most charming ..., mentioned the proposed legacy of
(Blakeman) G-o-sh! Whizz!! Bang!!! Good heavens, what greets our eyes? An immense oval-orbicular structure, something like an umbrella, something like a hoop -
(Palmer) 'Twas forbidden Eve to taste the apple, but Eve did it, you may have heard - Even so is it forbidden a man to marry his grandmother, but we have never heard, however, that any one attempted that. Cousins or namesakes are equally as bad, and it has been found that a here-to-fore studious and persevering young woman of '71, (that is not her age, our friends) has entangled herself into a troublesome corres-
That her children ten
Will marry rich men
That all will go well
Like a marriage bell.
To publicly announce
How the Count then Mounts
By a rope ladder
When a slight shudder
Preparing to fly
From a window high
May dimly be seen
Down she goes
On the tips of her toes
Fearing lest Pater
Or loved Mater
The footsteps hear
Safe at last
The danger past
They hast'ning go
To reach the depot
When the tardy train
They speedily gain
"En route for Utah."
The University doors are closed now
"Gainst all young men with charming bow
And now no more is seen
The Russian Count
To quickly mount
The hempen perilous way.
(House) Not a thousand miles from the banks of the Hudson, lives David, renowned of old. He may be told by the delicate cane he swings, by his lavender Kids, but most of all, by the picture carried close to his heart, in the inside pocket of his outer covering, on the left. But sad, sad it is to say that before another year shall have passed away in the debtors's prison he will be, his fortune scattered to the four winds of heaven - bankrupt thro' undue outlay in
O tinman, tinman
Do bring me a fan
I come, I come,
With this you see,
And ne'er will me it,
To release my Jewett
This is a letter,
Ne'er was a better
And stamps are here
Oh! I very much fear
That he must be in jail
If thou dost me fail.
And ... never one it, ne it, ne it That he released her Jewett, ewett, ewett.
(Smith M. E. L. ) Since the times are to change so much, cannot a prophetic eye as clearly foretell a woman's destiny in the political world, as a man's? Now we see a stump orator, in M. E. L. low tones, but clear and singing, advocating her candidate for the Presidency. Susan B. Anthony and Ernestine L. ROse, are thrown entirely into the shade; Lucy Stone eclipsed - the all-swaying influence of the fair one, as the moon to the sun, one, seemingly, the most quiet of our band, but yet exerting, as thro' long working at the forge, the power of a Smith. Time will see her Secretary of State, when
(Nicoll) Is seen a minist'ring angel, verily! Carrying divers bowls of gruel from house to house, feeding the poor with tracts without number, all that was formerly pertaining to his majesty Nick-all vanished - a minister's wife, far
from busy hum of factory, or rush and roar of railroad - twice in the month, only, will the peacefulness of this rural spot be broken by the stage's rumbling wheels. She, tending to household duties - in her proper sphere - living in a one-story cottage, fulfilling her mission in life - tending to dinner, tending to mopping, and tending to whipping the children:
(Raymond) Light of the World! Truly a grand future should this Sunbeam have. Should we speak selfishly, we would forever doom her to remain the "Light of the world" - But we can hope for two years, to have this light follow us, illuminating our pathway thro' the laborious mazes of Junior and Senior years - After that, we must follow her course, far out into the world, when she will radiate the pathway of another more favored than we
Will fade from sight
But of another's way
Will always be the -ay.
(Wendt) Once upon a time
This is for the rhyme
Came to Vassar College
Dearly bought knowledge
In the shape of a box
Which, by divers knocks
At last was opened.
In many a delicate paper
Lay clusters tapes
Of lovely grapes
Pure and white
As morning light
Luscious and sweet
For princess meet
Now look outside
After the long ride
What see you there?
To Miss E. W.
Are sent a few
Nice pleasant grapes
From hers till death
The maiden blushed
And then she rushed
Touch them she would not
Tho' many times, like Lot
Would she back have turned
And flew around
That a mistake it was
A simple joke
That unhappily took
With the dark-eyed maid
So all have said.
Miss A. L Sanford
June 12. 1869.
Class of '71.
A month ago, one fine afternoon,
Our class assembled in the recitation room.
The first great question for us to decide,
Was the "Profs" to be asked to our sleigh-ride.
For Backus and Orton then was quite a strife,
But alas for us all, they each had a wife.
Now what do do with these jealous wives,
Caused a racking of brains for us to devise.
But at last 'twas agreed them all to invite,
And to trust to the wives to do what was right.
We invited our guests, we hired our team,
And now for some fun all ready ...'d seem.
What a miserable sight did greet our eyes!
A drizzling rain and a ... street,
And thus was ended our longed-for treat.
I. W. Adams.
Our Last Class Meeting.
Anapestic Monometer Acatalectic
verse must be read with great care
in order to bring out all its beauties.
It is just four week today
Since we met in Society Hall,
Where Ellie, so smiling and gay,
Stood to receive us all.
As I came in from the rain,
How pleasant the room did look
With Susie and Ida and Mama
Soon to the dance we went,
But Millie at the piano staid,
And the sound of feet & music were blent
While Millie so beautifully played.
When with the dance we were weary,
We had a charming charade,
In which Minnie, Nell, and Mary
Interesting lectures made.
But when the lectures were finished,
A sound was heard overhead;
The tones of the bell us admonished
That it was time to go to bed.
J. P. Brown
A History in Rhymes.
At Vassar College in Po'keepsie,
(A place where people ne'er get tipsy)
The jovial Class of Seventy-one
Made up their minds to have some fun.
So, when the snow was falling fast,
Not thinking they how long 'twould last,
They had a meetin in room K,
And then they fixed upon a day
To have a sleigh-ride-Saturday night,
When woods & fields were clothed in white,
(Pardon the bull for the sake of the rhyme,
I'll try to do better another time!)
When the silvery moon was shining down
Over the country and over the town,
They'd bundle up in cloak & hood,
And now have patience, in my ditty,
With a little praise of our committee.
With patient care they did indite
A letter to Fitchett, as will they might,
Fitchett, the owner of horses & sleighs,
Better ask him if the business pays.
But one of the rules of the house-well ...
Is that "The children must never go out alone."
And so our Secretary, so polite,
Backus and Orton did invite,
Yes, and she also invited their wives,
Wouldn't leave them out, not for our lives!
And then she added Professor Mitchell,
A woman who wouldn't fill a niche ill
In Westminster Abbey, near London town,
Or in any other place of renown.
But alas! alas! it ceased to snow,
And the sun came out, & the rain descended,
It wasn't at all what they'd intended.
The Junior faces were under a cloud,
They didn't want to say it out loud;
But if there were only a kitchen handy
In which they could make molasses candy!
No kitchen appeared to the Junior eyes,
So they went home a-heaving of sighs.
But soon, though strange to you it seem,
A change came o'er the Junior dream.
By magic art there opened a kitchen,
And all they had to do was to pitch in,
Get the molasses and have a good time,
Surely you can't suggest 'twas a crime!
Saturday night, white-aproned & smiling,
Visitors mighty appeared on the scene,
Wondering what the uproar could mean.
And Angie patiently stirred the molasses,
While other pretty and homely lasses
Chopped up the chocolate, buttered the pans,
Got everything ready, then folded their hands.
And Angie patiently stirred & stirred,
While we sat quietly waiting the word
That should put our faces all in a glow,
When we put the candy out on the snow.
Unto every thing cometh a change,
Things long accustomed, & things that are strange
And at last, with the word, "the candy's done cooling,"
We buttered our fingers, & all began pulling.
Our Millie showed a most wonderful knowledge
(Wonderful even in Vassar College)
The art that requireth very much patience.
And Kate the good-natured made us our caramels
Perhaps she knew we wouldn't have had 'em else,
x x x x x x x x x x x x
Who made the discovery? "Twas whispered low
"The candy is burnt, & people will know
That the glorious class of Seventy-one
Don't know when their candy is done!"
Louise the plucky wouldn't endure it,
And so she thought of a way to cure it.
To go straightway to the generous steward,
And see if he couldn't be allured
By greenbacks, held 'tween thumb & finger.
Sugar to give, & with it some vinegar,
That the gay and jolly Junior crowd
Might have some what where of to be proud.
Faces radiant showed they'd succeeded.
Ask me not what became of this last,
Our fate was sealed, the die was cast,
But the turbid dream of candy was not o'er
It rolled o'er the couch of my mother's daughter,
All night long, and in the morning,
When the first dim, gray light was dawning,
I firmly resolved to mount the steed
That we name Pegasus, good at need.
The beast is short legged, his gait is peculiar,
He don't travel swiftly ehough for a courier,
He's such an uncomfortable beast altogether
That I most seriously wonder whether
I hadn't better get off his back,
Give it a most tremenjuous[sic] whack,
And devote the rest of my strength & will
To my friend & companion "Natural Phil."
E. M. Folsom.
Good I wish to all, and ill to none;
May you many homes make pure & bright,
And on Science shed rich rays of light
E. H. Garnsey.
I sat at my study table
Quite early the other day.
All alone in the parlor,
For my room-mates had gone away.
The world was bright about me,
The sunshine lay on the floor,
On the wall, and on the table,
And played hide & seek with the door.
But a book was lying before me,
And I studied and studied on -
Hardly raising my eyelids,
Till by and by the sunshine,
A little tired of its play,
Left the door to its darkness,
And quietly crept away.
Crept farther on to the table,
Crept over the leaves of my book,
And made them bright and cheerful
Destroying their sober look.
How could I but see the sunshine,
How could I but think of it too,
And let it creep slowly into my heart
As it seemed to long to do?
And as it crept in so gently,
It filled my heart with love
For God's world & all His creatures,
A messenger from above.
It filled my heart and soul
With its beauty and its loveliness,
Thus purifying the whole.
And when I went back to my lesson
The hardest, roughest part
Was only a pleasure to me,
With God's sunshine in my heart.
M. O. Glover.
Have you heard the story old,
That for many ages has been told?
How once some twenty maidens odd,
Solemnly pledged themselves one & all
To seek after Genius, that gift of God.
These twenty maids dwelt in classic halls,
Which they greatly revered deep down in their souls
And here lay the gem concealed, it was said,
Which glory would, shed, round the maiden's head
Each of the maids had a casket planned
Wondrously by God's invisible hand;
But these were all so intricately wrought
That the maids, although with a will they sought
Couldn't for days get open the lock.
But with perseverance they worked away,
And after a while the light of day
Peeped as curiously thro' the lids as they,
To see in which the gift might be
That they were all seeking so anxiously.
Deep down in one with lustre gleamed
The gem so rare and bright that it seemed
To the wondering eyes of the maids as they gazed
On its beautiful, brilliant, reflected rays
That it must be a treasure of Paradise.
The one to whose casket the treasure was sent
With love, as having it in her dower
To aid in dispersing the gloomy lower
Of the clouds round men's minds with such wonderful power.
In the woods when the shades are deepest,
When the flowers bloom the sweetest,
Song of bird, and hum of bee
Make the fairest of music to me.
On the lea, when the fresh wind bloweth,
When the cool stream gently floweth,
Brook, and sky, and smiling lea
Make the fairest of pictures to me.
When the sun o'er the mountain strayeth,
When the pure air freshly playeth,
Sun, and mountain-air so free
Hold the fairest of treasures to me.
I have no time.
Louise La Due.
I have wooed the muse,
But begin to despair
Being able to summon her
Out from her lair.
S. B. D. Lewis.
A poem, you say, you must have,
But you little know what you ask,
Or you would have waited a year & a day
Before setting me such a task.
In justice to myself I would say,
The muses have deserted me quite,
So all that remains for me to do
Is, sorrowfully my excuse to write.
K. A. Loveland.
Is an impossible thing
For I tried all the time
To write an original something.
The day is almost done;
The work is already laid by;
Tell me, thou setting sun,
O whither dost thou fly!
What is there in the West
Where thou dost take thy way?
Goest thou to lighten a breast,
In a flood of golden day?
The stars begin to peep;
The heavens doth grow dark;
I lay me down to sleep
With a heavy, burdened heart.
The voices that were dear,
One face comes up from the Past
My heart has grown heavy & drear.
The angel of darkness has come
Over my life to spread
His wings of doom - some
Hearts grow as heavy as lead.
Folly - unhappiness - death
Of many hopes once bright -
Sickness - bewildering doubt -
Can such a heart be light!
Rosy lips, whose lusciousness
Ever to mine was held -
Sweet kisses, whose blessedness
My passions quelled -
Gone! each joy must have an end -
Gone! each voice must withdraw its tone-
Gone! each kiss must die as the day.
The Class of '71.
You have heard of the class of '71,
But I don't believe you have heard its roll
'Tis a mixture of jollity, wit, and fun,
And will make you laugh beyond control.
First comes the husband of Mother Eve,
(Her first name's that of a favorite duck.)
If you ask her what she admires the most,
Be very sure she will answer "pluck."
The next is a color, a common one,
Which the Quakers are fond of wearing;
If at this one's size you ever poke fun,
Look out, friend, that's past all bearing.
One of us bears the honorable name
Of a general great in story,
Her first name's that of a charming month
So full of blooming glory.
You've heard of that far-famed institution,
On the shore of a distant lake.
It bears the name of the fourth on our roll,
And we're proud of her for its sake.
My friends, do you know your alphabet?
If so, repeat it to me.
Begin with A, and go straight through,-
But be sure and paust at S. T.
We had a candy-pull 'tother[sic] night.
Girls, have you paid all your dues?
The full sum, you know, must really be had,
Or else our treasury'll lose.
O the man! O the man!
This is the cry of another.
"What man? what man?" is anxiously asked,
Why, Marie Otheman Glover!
You wouldn't think that in our class
One should turn out a vile one:
But if we haven't a hireling, friends,
We have the next worse, a hileman.
All men must have a place to dwell.
The Arabs like their tents,
But we Americans prefer a house,
And so do all nations of sense.
If sometimes the meat you have is tough,
I know who'll tell how to "do it;"
And the same may be said of your troubles in life
She says "why chew it, chew it."
Prof. Orton teaches his class
To classify animals proper.
Haven't we perfectly learned, my girls,
That a toad must be a hopper?
One of us has a frenchified name,
Which means "the duty," "the debt."
Would that she'd keep to her name's import,
For she might make something yet.
My friends, my time has given out,
And so I must close this ditty.
To those of you whom I haven't mentions,
I can only say, 'tis a pity.
But you know the roll is only half called,
And at another time
If our life is spared, I'll tell you all,
Only - it won't be in rhyme!
M. S. Nicoll.
Essays on our steps attend;
'Tis in vain we sigh and languish,
Duties meet us without end.
But by far the greatest trial
Is when classmates stern demand
(Countenancing no denial)
Proofs of Genius from one's hand.
Now I have my task completed,
Brought my talents to the light,
I am ready to be greeted
With expressions of delight.
If write I must, I'll do my best,
and let my class-mates know
Where there's a will there's ever a way
Proves not always quite so.
'Tis a tendency of nature,
But a poem worthy of the class of '71,
Requires another feature.
We learn that when the world was made,
To each a share was given;
The poet did not come for his,
But lingered still in heaven.
He came at last, but 'twas too late;
For every part was taken.
Then Jove, a place within his gate
Granted to the one forsaken.
Still he visits earth, and oft has let
His mantel fall on those who pass,
And as it has been within our walls,
Why not with a member of our class?
A. E. Rowe.
To try my stupid wit at poesie,
But in obedience to the stern command
Do undertake the embassy.
To a fertile mind, 'tis hard to choose
Which from the Muses to abuse;
Whether dramatic or lyric
For a professed empiric,
Or epic or blank
For a mountebank.
But, quoth I, sure why not invent
The grandest of measures i'faith
That to man the Muse hath e'er lent
To appease the uneasy wraith
Of class-mates, indignant
That one should fail
In attempt to enchant
(Pardon here the grammar
For the ends won't meet
Unless once in a while
Can't write any ....
It's no use I know,
For always 'tis so:
That howe'er much one may implore
They're sure to be struck to the floor
When they're not so strong
As the hurrying throng -
The bell hath rung for tea
So this is the last you'll see of me.
A. L. Sanford.
The Widow's Heart made glad.
Night was gathering in the village,
Storm was raging thick and fast,
As a lonely widow woman
Through the busy street did pass.
Sorrow's child, I saw too plainly
Written on her noble brow;
She was poor and friendless now.
No one noted of her coming;
No one in that busy throng
Cared to ask her of her sorrow
Or to give her heart a balm.
On she trudged with weary footsteps,
Looking timidly around,
Till at last she reached the gateway
Of a mansion far renowned.
Timidly she asked for bounty,
Proudly was it her denied,
As the haughty, scornful lady
Drew her costly robes aside.
We do not confer our bounty
Upon every starving one:
Over yonder is the poor-house,
Lady, begged the suffering woman
Three sick babes have I at home.
Oh! for Jesus' sake do give me
Bread to hush their starving moan.
As she saw still cold denial
Written on the haughty face,
With a cry of torturing anguish
Lifted she her poor, wan, face.
Lady, will you hear a story
of a life once bright as yours?
It, perchance, may teach a lesson
Of earth's frailty and woes.
Lady, you are rich and happy
Fortune's favors all are yours;
Happy husband, loving children,
All are freely given you.
Friends a plenty had I then.
Life was like a happy May-day,
Sorrow never knew I then.
But that life, which was so happy
Soon for me did have an end
And I found that I the cup of sorrow
To its bitt'rest dregs must drain.
Of the many wooing suitors
Who did grace my childhood's home,
One there was whom, spite of warning,
I did blindly, madly love.
Father's sorrow and displeasure,
Threats of being turned from home
If I dared to favor Harry,
Proudly did I bear alone.
'Tis the oft repeated story -
Father's sorrow and displeasure,
Disinheritance of child.
Yes, I left the dearly loved ones;
Madly, blindly did I love
Him, who cruelly deceived me
As to his undying love.
But against the dead I will not murmur,
God has judged him long ago.
Our brief, wedded life was only
One long, weary sea of woe.
Tho' I've never seen my father
Since he sternly bade me go
From the house where I was nurtured,
If I loved my Harry so,
Yet I've heard from others
That that day his hair turned white;
Turned his day to darkest night.
Tearfully they saw him sinking,
Failing, failing, day by day,
Till one night God sent his angels,
Gently calling him away.
"Mary" was the last last word he uttered
As he joined the angel band.
"Father, I have sinned, forgive me,"
Is the answer which I send.
Father's love, and husband's falseness,
Friends once many, now nor more,
Disobedience and sorrow
Are my momentoes of yore.
Ay! too truly comes the warning
"As ye sow so shall ye reap."
From the seeds of disobedience
Three starving babes at home are waiting
For my tender, watchful care.
Lady, have you learned a lesson?
Can you picture such despair?
Tears were rolling from the eyelids
Of that once proud, haughty one.
I will give you gladly, freely,
May God forgive the past undone.
And, forthwith, joy and sunshine
Lighted up that widow's home,
For the wealthy, haughty woman
Gave her freely from her store.
Surely, there was joy in Heaven
When the recording angel told
Of that scene which he had witnessed
'Twixt the sad one and the cold.
Of the poor who us surround,
Remembering our Master's message,
"Freely give where want is found.
H. J. Sibley.
Weary and tired I sit me down
To do a thing quite out of my line.
To help me through this trying task
I call together the muses nine.
Sublime or funny, happy or sad,
Anything so it's poetical -
Regardless of sense, measure, or line,
If the verses are only symmetrical.
The pale-faced moon and twinkling stars,
The rippling waters, cerulean blue -
The falling leaf - and fading flower -
Alas! I hit upon nothing new!
She only scoffs at my distress
... mortal never was before
Born with such woeful stupidness!
Consoling though it is to think
I'm not for this at all to blame,
If brilliant talent had been mine
Then mine had been a shining name.
But I'm content to lowly be
And move within an humble sphere.
Where would be glory for the great,
If of the great each were the peer?
It takes all sorts to make a world,
If some are high, some must be low.
Nature deals not with all alike;
And this is wise in her, you know.
Now I've begun, how shall I end?
But trusting each one here's my friend,
I'll leave it all to you.
Mt. T. Slocum.
The circumstances under which this play is about to be represented, to the literary public, seem to demand a few explanatory and apologetical remarks. Never did true love run less smooth than in the cases of our Juliet and Romeo (the cause of this somewhat strange inversion of names is out of "deference to the ladies," under the new regime). Three weeks has made no difference in the depth of this affection, you will see; tho' the roaring flame which in Romeo's heart did burn had a singular effect upon his wardrobe, which
Mercuth, the gay, Mercuth, the ..., tho' slightly changed in his intellectual exterior (you remember he was exceedingly well-read!) carries the weight of the world upon his shoulders with the same quiet dignity! The heavy father of the piece will appear rejuvenated, a beardless youth again, and shorn by untoward events of the royal ermine. We hope you will bear with us, if
If our characters seem some what gravely ..., why then, remember "there's but a step from the gay to gray!" In conclusioh, and in accordance with the lofty strains of an unknown poet.
Higher powers than we're
Ordain our Costumes here,
With many a tear
Dropped on their bier
We watched them disappear!
Angie L. Sanford.
'71 to '70.
M. A. Glover, assisted by E. M. Folsom.
Happy & light are our hearts tonight,
But, alas! for human gladness,
The brightest day doth ne'er pass away,
Without a tinge of sadness.
Come classmates all, for whate'er befall,
We are one thro' mud & weather,
By a a joyful lay drive dull care away
And be merry and gay together.
Soon shall we stand on the white sea-sand
And, looking o'er the waters,
Shall be horrified to see the tide
Run off with Seventy's daughters.
As ye leave us now with saddened brow,
Ye grave and reverend Seniors,
We wish you joy without alloy,
And a chance to show your genius.
Then let us sing till the ceilings ring
A loud and smiling chorus,
For altho' we know that you must go,
Our senior year's before us.