UC-NRLF $B 575 757 : : " M csV^yrurti&e' ^/Z&iA&riA *. : , hH Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from Microsoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/cornellversevoluOOIyonrich A WELLS VERSION Wr\at if your r\an\e is Malor^ey? Wt\at if you're r\ot a dead s^ell? Tr\e girls of our Mater -Will rusl\ you, If your brother goes to Corriell. L. C. W.— Wells '99. £ U > CORNELL VERSE A volume of selected poems, written by the students of Cornell University Compiled by Henry adelbert Lyon Press HISTORICAL PUBLISHING COMPANY Philadelphia Copyright, 1897, by H. A. LYON HENRY MORSE STEPHEN* DEDICATED TO THE VICTORIOUS CORNELL CREWS 514671 PREFACE CHIS little volume is offered to the public without any apology or excuse for its existence ; the main object being that of preserving, in some convenient form, the many bits of rhyme which have helped to divert the thoughts of the student during the leisure hours when not engaged in heavier work. Its merits rest upon the fact that it represents more truly than anything else can, the love that a sense of a higher education imparts to student life. As the poems were all written by Cornellians, I trust that the love for Cornell University, with all of its hallowed associations and pleasant memories, will make the hearts of those who have left their Alma Mater warm up over the happy recollections of the past so tacitly brought before them, and that the undergraduates may be inspired to invoke the muse still further to help them sing of the glories of Cornell. Those who have left their Alma Mater will, I feel, turn aside with pleasure from the cares of business, to read some of these verses, and the love for the careless, happy life spent at College will come back again with a flood of joyous memories. I am indebted to many for the kind assistance they have given me in making this collection, and I trust that my gratitude may not be overlooked, although left as a closing thought to this brief preface. Henry Adelbert Lyon. Westfteld, N. Y., June, 1897. INDEX. Page After the Ball ••«•.. 75 Alma Mater - College Song 117 Alma Mater— Carm. Cornell 15 Alas! .... 158 Also in the Morning and Evening 158 Alumni Song 78 Arbutus 115 At Midnight Sat We Three Fishers 25 At Night 151 At the Armory c .... 43 At the Gate 134 At Vespers 63 Art at Cornell 135 Autumn . . . . ; 118 Ballad of Deadhead Hill 107 Ballad of Spring 55 Bargain, The 148 Blossom, The 34 Boating Song 54 Broken Up .... 156 Castle Building 102 Chimes of Cornell, The 50 Cloudland 104 College Rowing Song, A 81 College Heroes 75 Comfort , 24 Coming of Gitchekwasind, The .......... 94 Comparison, A ................... 23 (9) io CORNELL VERSE Page Conditioned 46 Consecration of the Beautiful, The 38 Constant Heart, A 60 Cornell — Carm. Cornell . . 15 Cornell Chimes, The 56 Cornellschmertz 48 Cornell Uniform, The 129 Crew Song 116 Daisies 103 Dawn 126 Difference, A ,119 Different 74 Dilemma, A * 59 Disappointment 160 Dreamer of Dreams, A . . , 22 Dream On 24 Drill 136 Encore, An 66 Evening Song — Carm. Cornell .16 Failure 155 Fair but False 110 Fair Cornellian, A 138 Fallen Leaves 150 " Far Above Cayuga's Waters" . .... 113 Far Away Love 34 Farewell 142 Football Requisites 45 Found! On the Campus 108 Game of Life, The . . 120 Golf on Cascadilla Field 159 Good Eye .««**. to «, . «. <. ■> , 160 INDEX. ii Page Good Example, A 58 Good-Night 37 "He Who Hesitates— !" ..... 58 His Privilege 58 History as She is Criticised 36 Homeward 68 Hope 20 Idyll, An 55 Idyll, An 72 In Junior Year 82 In Summer Time at Ithaca 131 In the Library , 107 Ithaca Girl, The . . 153 Jims, The 91 Last Sweet Glimpse, The 118 Learning French 20 Logical Courtship, A 44 Love's Disguise 35 Love's Hypnotism 133 Love's Recompense 69 Lover's Serenade, A 67 Luke, the Puritan . 41 Minstrel's Curse, The , 121 Mixed 159 Model Student, The 48 Modern Version, The 158 My Landlady's Bill 152 My Love 32 My True Love 46 Mye Valentyne .... 79 Mystery Solved, The . . • . . 53 12 CORNELL VERSE. Page Naturally ...... 154 New Way to Put it, A 64 Oblivion's Gate . . 86 Ode to Cornell University 28 On a Bust of A. D. W 42 On the " Intimations of Immortality " . . . . . , 64 On the River . 32 On the Shore at Night 109 Our End 105 Out of Sight 154 Oxalis, The . . 57 Passion 77 Pinning His Faith 128 Pulpit Rock . . 33 Purgatory vs. Drill 72 Purple Blossoms , 88 Queries 134 Query 156 Quite Possible 87 Race, The 102 Rather 157 Reflections 70 Registrar, The 90 Regret 154 Rejoicing 74 Repartee 125 Return, The 146 Reverie ... 76 Ringing of the Chimes, The 100 INDEX. 13 Page "Said a Man Who Was Doing Cornell" 153 "Said an Innocent Looking Veal II " 156 "Said the Turkey to the Spoon " 156 Sensational Reporter, The in Serenade 59 Shadow and Sunshine 130 Shakespearian 125 Shattered Hopes 130 She Fooled Him 115 She Knew the Grip 139 Snowflake, A 41 Society 73 "Somebody" . . . 84 Song She Used to Sing, The . 128 Sonnet 40 Sophomore at the Bridge, The „ 142 Spirit of the Chimes, The in Spring . 154 Stars of the Valley . . . . . 19 Strange, but True 157 Student, The 106 Student's Toil, A 112 Sunday 50 Sunset , 63 Surplus, The 38 Sweet Chimes of Cornell 145 Table D'Hote 158 "Tell Me, Maiden" 147 That Last Sweet Night 129 That Locker Combination 79 That Voice . . . * . 47 I4 CORNELL VERSE. Page Three Triolets 85 'Tis Policy, You Know ....... . 140 To a Brunette 126 To a Carnation , . . 53 To a Dead Bird 61 To a Picture ... 87 To a Rose 114 To Helen 21 To My Landlady 152 To My Pipe "3 To My Valentine 127 To the Rain 101 'Twas Lent - • • *37 Twilight 3 1 Vacation Idyll, A . . 17 Vespertine • • • ■• • » • io 9 " Victorious Spolia Sunt " 7 1 Waiting 94 Watching 6 5 Weaker Sex, The J 37 When Evening Falls . 7 1 When Morning Breaks 65 Which is It ? J 9 Who is She ? 79 Why is It ? 90 Widow, The . 88 Within the Valley 83 Woman T 44 Word of Advice, A . 140 AM ENDE. CORNELL VERSE. ALMA MATER. Carm. Cornell. CAR above Cayuga's waters, With its waves of blue, Stands our noble Alma Mater Glorious to view. Chorus: Lift the Chorus, speed it onward, Loud her praises tell, Hail to thee, our Alma Mater ! Hail, all hail, Cornell ! Far above the busy humming Of the bustling town, Reared against the arch of Heaven Looks she proudly down. CORNELL. Carm. Cornell. TTHE soldier loves his general's fame, The willow loves the stream, The child will love its mother's name, The dreamer loves his dream; (15) 1 6 CORNELL VERSE. The sailor loves his haven's pier, The shadow loves the dell; The student holds no name so dear As thy good name, Cornell. Chorus: We'll honor thee, Cornell, We'll honor thee, Cornell, While breezes blow Or waters flow, We'll honor thee, Cornell. The soldier with his sword of might In blood may write his fame, The prince in marble columns white May deeply grave his name; But graven on each student heart There shall unsullied dwell While of this world they are a part Thy own good name, Cornell. EVENING SONG. Carm. Cornell. "\X7HEN the sun fades far away, In the crimson of the west, And the voices of the day Murmur low and sink to rest. Chorus: Music with the twilight falls O'er the dreaming lake and dell; 'Tis an echo from the walls Of our own, our fair Cornell. A VACATION IDYLL. 17 Life is joyous when the hours Move in melody along, All its happiness is ours While we join the vesper song. Welcome night, and welcome rest, Fading music, fare thee well; Joy to all we love the best, — Love to thee, our fair Cornell ! A VACATION IDYLL. 4 4 '"THOUGH tangled and twisted the course of true love, This ditty explains, No tangles so tangled it cannot improve, If the lover has brains." The broad hotel piazza was deserted then and bare, Save for a man and maiden; he reclining in a chair, She lying in a hammock, as we often maidens see, While they chat of gowns and parties, or of yachting or of sea. She had questioned him of college; he had told her tales a score — "What a pretty pin," she told him; adding, laughing, " did he dare Lend to her the little emblem, as her own a while to wear ? ' ' 11 1 cannot," he protested; " it would never do, because The transfer is forbidden by the frat's unwritten laws. No, I alone must wear the pin and cherish it through life; No girl — oh, well, unless the one who is to be my wife." 18 CORNELL VERSE. A moment's pause; the maiden changed the subject with a smile, And chatted on entrancingly — and he, poor man, the while Was losing all his peace of mind, while she, to tell the truth, Was equally delighted with this dashing handsome youth. A casual observer might have noticed from that day Whenever she went walking, he always went her way; They had frequent rides together, nor was she ever caught At any time out sailing in another fellow's yacht. They danced the lively two-step as the music rose and fell; They swung through mazy waltzes, during which they seemed to dwell In a sphere above us mortals, and the subtle summer air Cast a spell upon their pulses— cast our hero in despair. Did she know how much he loved her? Gladly had he wished it so, But greatly feared to ask her, feared that fatal " Yes " or "No." It was over; she was going; they were parting; yet he found Of the words he meant to tell her he could utter not a sound. On the broad hotel piazza fell a'sudden bright moonbeam, Cast its light on man and maiden; on the badge it cast a gleam. He simply clasped it on her gown; the maiden under- stood — And then the moon withdrew its face— and why should we intrude ? — Theos. WHICH IS IT? i 9 . STARS OF THE VALLEY. AX/HEN the shadows shroud the hillsides, And the stars glow in the blue, When the night wind o'er Cayuga Breathes its tale of love anew; When there's silence deep and tender, Save w T hen chimes the even bell, Sending far o'er vale and wavelet Gentle greetings from Cornell; Then upon the valley's bosom Gleam a thousand gems of light, Mild and clear their radiance stealing Thro' the chambers of the night. Brighter they than heaven's jewels, Deeper sinks their beams' bright dart For they shine from Love's dear hearthstones Straight into the exile's heart. — Oreola Williams. WHICH IS IT? H E takes his Sunday tea at Sage, He spends his evenings there; He bends above the music page And sings the sacred air. Although they say he likes the hymns, One naturally infers, Perhaps he goes to hear the hims, More like to see the hers. — Anon. CORNELL VERSE. LEARNING FRENCH. T ROLL my r's To beat the cars, And twist the diphthongs round; The nasals squeak, I howl and shriek With strange bacterian sound. But still I fear I soon shall hear My dear instructor say: " Oh, Nom de Dieu, Ah, what to do? You nevarie learns Francais." — Anon. HOPE. *THE day has been a fair one * And the sky was clear and bright And I'd wandered through the mead-lands In the morn with pure delight. As the sun rose high and higher 'Came its influence strong and sweet, And stronger pressed it on me; Made me happy in its heat. Through the whole day long it cheer'd me Shining warm and soft above, Though above me, — yet 'twas with me, Made me happy in my love. TO HELEN. But now, behind the hill-tops, It hides its face away, And the storm from down the valley, Comes and drives away the day. And the winds, in angry tumult, Drive up clouds that black the skies And the pines bend low in moaning And the snow in flurries flies. And I feel chill desolation Come and settle o'er my heart — And the howling winds shriek louder,- Ah 'tis sorrowful to part. For thou, thou mad'stthe sunshine, Thou caused this heart to glow, Yet 'tis but right, our parting; Ah yes, it must be so. But still no night is endless No storm can rage for aye, And I long and hope for morning And thy face to grace the day. — D. TO HELEN. MAIDEN with the raven hair, Something I would fain inquire; And your answer, as it lies Graven in those roguish eyes, Comes to set my heart on fire, Or else drive me to despair. CORNELL VERSE. Ah ! the blushing roses fair In your cheek, with crimson glow; High with hope my heart doth beat, As your answer, low and sweet, Tells me what I wish to know: Leaves my life without a care. — Oscar H. Fernback. A DREAMER OF DREAMS. BALLADE. A COAT quite ragged, an attic bare, A floor sans carpet, and ceiling low, An aged table, a single chair; The flame of a candle blown to and fro. — But his thoughts are back in the long ago, For the Muse has come, on her snowy wing, And the poet lives with his heart aglow In the dream-land realm of a fairy king. The attic roof is in bad repair, The air is chill with the falling snow, And never a coal for a fire is there — How he longs for the lands where the swallows go !- But a patient soul is the poet, so There's a song whatever the days may bring, For he knows that flowers celestial blow In the dream-land realm of a fairy king. Though small indeed the poet's share Of wealth and power that worldlings know, He never yieldeth to grim despair. His coat may be shabby and worn, but lo, A COMPARISON. 23 There is more to life than an empty show, And his voice will still have a tender ring, For there's joy unknown to the world below In the dream-land realm of a fairy king. 1/ ENVOI. Ah, Fame, we have sorrows thou canst not know, And reward so scant for the men who sing, But we've laurels brighter than fame can bestow In the dream-land realm of a fairy king. — E. A. R. A COMPARISON. Y\0 you know how the North Wind blows, As it sighs through the leafless boughs; And whirls the leaves as the farmer sows His seed with Heaven-turned vows? Then you know how I shiver with dread, When the clock is almost at the hour; A question is aimed at my head, And around me the storm clouds lower. Do you know how the South Winds blow, As a gentle murmuring rill; To quiet this angry world below, With a silent " Peace, be still ? " Then you know what my joy is like, When the master commences to say, As the clock just begins to strike — "Mr. M that will do to-day." — W.S.M. 24 CORNELL VERSE. DREAM ON. PvREAM on, my love, in slumber sweet, While here, without, I soft repeat That gentle music of thy choice, Which oft I've heard in thy dear voice. Dream on, while there above, thy star Sends its calm rays from realms afar To light the watches of the night, And give thy lover better sight Of this window, where oft he's seen Thy lovely eyes, my pretty queen. Dream on, and may thine eyes of sleep Gaze in Love's sacred recess deep Within my heart, and there behold The words which I have never told, Except by glance, except by deed, For tongues are weak, and will not plead. Dream on, my own, and from thine heart Let not Love's sacred message part, For God has placed it there for me ! 11 1 love, I love, but only thee." — Norman Hutchinson. COMFORT. \ A/HEN the world seems dark and dreary, And my life is full of grief, There is one whose voice so cheery Comes to bring my soul relief. WE THREE FISHERS. 25 As the sun with regal splendor, Quick dispels the gloom of night So her smile of love, so tender Makes my saddened heart grow light. Laugh away, then, world unfeeling ! Heedless I, from trouble free ! Life renewed comes o'er me stealing, There is one, who loveth me. — Oscar H. Fernback. AT MIDNIGHT SAT WE THREE FISHERS. A T midnight sat we three fishers, Tom, and old Jones and I; Few lights there were in the village, Few stars in the cloudy sky. Our lines still swayed in the water Though the fish had ceased to bite; We puffed at our pipes in silence And dreamed our dreams in the night. Tom was twenty, and I was twenty, And Tom and I were in love; But not old Jones, for he happened, you see, To be seventy year and above. The bull frogs croaked in the rushes That border the little lake; Old Jones took his pipe from betwixt his teeth, " ' Tis just fifty years, I make, 26 CORNELL VERSE. " And sure as I live that window Is lighted again to-night. Did you ever hear the story Of the drowning of Elsie Wright?" " Tell on your yarn ! " cried Tom and I, " ' Tis one we never heard." " A gentle girl was Elsie, She had pledged to me her word. " But I was a wild young fellow, Her father a stern old man, And never a path run rougher, Than our too true love ran. " For she was a faithful sweetheart, And a dutiful daughter, too; She would not break with her lover, Nor anger her father anew. " He pledged her hand to another, And set the wedding day; And Elsie couldn't refuse him, Nor couldn't run away. 1 ' So the night before the wedding, I sat in my boat just here, Where the lake curves round to the outlet; And as twelve struck on my ear, " From the church-tower yon in the village, I saw the light go out, That burned till then in her window, And I put the boat about, WE THREE EISNERS. 27 " And I rowed in nearer the rushes' To sleep till the break of dawn, And slept the sleep of the sick at heart, Full to the morrow T morn. 11 Only just as I dozed for the first time I woke with a startled heart, And listened over the water, For the sound that made me start. " But all was as still as it now is, There was only the hoot of the owl, So I turned again to my slumber — Hearing a watch-dog howl. "I dreamed strange dreams in my slumber, And woke foreboding of ill; Woke with the gray break of morning, When all was misty and chill. " But I shook the dew from my shoulders, And shoved my oars into place, Then leaned just over the gunwale To bathe my fevered face. "My God ! in the stagnant water, There by the side of my boat, Was the face of my love, my darling, Rocked by the ripples, afloat. " She had plunged in the reedy water, And come with the sluggish tide, Floating down to the outlet To rest by her lover's side." — Herbert Crombie Howe. 28 CORNELL VERSE. ODE TO CORNELL UNIVERSITY. (Dedicated to Professor Corson.) I. AK/HENE'ER in thought, Cornell, I turn to thee, Thy merry chimes each time prelude the dream, With memories newer days endear to me, Until I seem to see The waters of Cayuga in the wake Of eight-oared shells reflect the sun Which, setting, biddeth to the lake Those many-toned farewells which one by one All into gray tints run; And I, who love sweet-doing-naught, recline Mid idle oars and make her slumbers mine, Only to wake when from a far oif tower The college bells with rising stars combine To tell me of the hour, Which hath but little power To rouse me from a water-dream so dear. Sweet chimes, ring on, your merry notes I hear. II. Thus, too, in dreams 'long narrow paths well known I wander through a rocky gorge astray, Down shady banks that free me from the sway Of summer heats and thoughts oppressive grown ; Far oft have I alone Sought refuge there from noons of mind and heart, Descending winding stairs cut in a wall Of layered rock by more than human art, 6 ODE TO CORNELL UNIVERSITY. 29 To listen to the roaring waterfall Whose mists of spray bathe all The trees around, and fill the heated air With spring-time cool, far more than summer's share. Where oft of old, I linger now ouce more To feed my soul on nature's wholesome fare, Until, the vision o'er, Above the water's roar Faint notes of bells fall on my listening ear. Sweet chimes, ring on, your merry notes I hear. III. But not alone Cayuga's lake I seek By night, or Cascadilla's gorge at noon. Thy gifts are not Cornellia's only boon, Fair Nature, leaving all beside them weak; For from the sluggish creek — We call it Rhine — that lakeward wends its way, And deep-cut, torrent-worn ravines between, New Ithaca climbs ever day by day Unweariedlv a hill with verdure green, A home endeared, I ween, To all who come its student haunts to know, And, sharing its ambition come to grow Unconsciously attached to that fair crown Of lights upon the hill, which fame bestow, And nobly earned renown Upon the aspiring town That lends with me to bells no listless ear. Sweet chimes, ring on, your merry notes I hear. 30 CORNELL VERSE. IV. Lake, gorges, ay, and town, each their due share Of memories awake, but most of all, When chimes I hear, Cornell, do I recall Thy massive halls, thy drives and gardens fair, And that pure atmosphere Which makes the strong to overcome the claims Of older rivals to the place of old By Athens held, however great their names. Though young in years, oh, be thou free and bold, Gifts thine alone to hold, That feariug neither past nor years to be, Thy sons and friends may come in thee to see A city set upon a lofty hill Forth-flashing threefold light o'er land and sea Unweariedly, until, Prophetic of God's will, Cornellian words fall on Columbia's ear. Sweet chimes, ring on, your merry notes I hear. V. A threefold light, I said, for thou must feed, Columbia's Athens, body, mind and soul, And threefold make thy foster-children's goal, If thou w T ouldst meet the coming age's need, And shine supreme indeed. Hence hail, ye athletes, all who strive to make Your nerves and muscles bide each manly test- Who long have floated on Cayuga's lake Olympian crews none venture to contest Nor east, nor south, nor west. TWILIGHT. 31 Hail, doubly hail, ye athletes of the mind, Who wreaths of conquering thought contend to bind Around your youthful mother's spacious brow. But trebly hail, ye who, too long outshined By brawn and brain, Cornell e'en now With spirit-lore endow, And words that bell-like reach the spirit's ear. Sweet chimes, ring on, your merry notes I hear. — Courtney Langdon. TWILIGHT. A DULL gray sky O'er which swallows fly; And sweeps of meadow parched and dry; The twitter of birds; The lowing of herds; A rift in the clouds in the West: The sough of the winds In the sun-scorched pines; Then the moaning of doves and the owlet's cry; The echo of wheels In the mown hay-fields; And the day with a quiver's at rest. — Robert Adger Bowen. 32 CORNELL VERSE. MY LOVE. I IKE rain-pools over Autumn's leaves, My sweet Love's eyes to me; Like sunlight over golden sheaves Her wind-blown tresses free. Like snow upon the mountain's face The whiteness of her throat; Her movements of the subtile grace Of lilies all afloat. Her voice is sweet as silver bells O'er sheets of moon-lit snow; Her mouth, a full ripe flower, where dwells The sunset's crimson glow. Her soul is tender as blue skies A Southern day above; While in her heart all priceless lies The Diamond of her love. — Robert Adger Bowen. ON THE RIVER. /^\UT on the river at twilight, While the oars dipped softly in, And the dear old songs were blended With the waterfall's distant din; While the round moon rose up slowly Over the crested hill, And silvered a thousand ripples; When mourned the whip-poor-will. PULPIT POCK. 33 Then I lost my heart in the twilight, To the maiden with gleaming hair: Still nnder the spell enchanted, In my dreams, I wander there. — Herbert Crombie Howe. PULPIT ROCK. D OCKS before and Rocks beneath it, Towering cliffs on every side, Murmuring pines and gorgeous sumach Fern and dogwood hide. Deep green waters, Slipping softly, O'er the time-stained edge of stone, Vanished then the greenness of it By the breeze npblown. Back the breezes Steady cast it, Like the spreading of a veil, While the sunlight deftly paints it In a rainbow pale. Pulpit rock, Without a preacher, What a sermon there you find, Ever preaching, ever speaking, Moving heart and moving mind. 34 CORNELL VERSE. All is peace and Quiet round it, Save the water's rush and roar; Churchmen for their creeds may struggle, It will preach as e'er before. — Kennedy Furlong Ruber t. THE BLOSSOM. (From Heine.) 'T'HOU art so like a blossom, So gentle, fair and pure; I view thee, and my bosom Can scarce the pain endure. My hands and heart are laden With blessing, and with prayer, That God may keep thee, maiden, So gentle, pure, and fair. — George Augustus Rumsey. FAR AWAY LOVE. CAR away love, far away love, My spirit wings off to thee, Beating the clouds in the heavens above, Winging o'er land, winging o'er sea, Far away love, 'tis winging to thee. L O VE'S DISGUISE. 35 Turning from revel, from banquet and song, Yearning, my love, for thee, Sweeping swift on the storm along, My soul flies fast with the clouds that flee Over the continent, love, to thee. May Time fly as fast with his scythe and glass, Bringing thee, love, to me, As the hurrying flakes of snow that pass, Bearing the months on his pinions free, Bearing thee, far aw T ay love, to me. — Herbert Crombie Howe. LOVE'S DISGUISE. ClyY Eros once knocked at the door Of one whose heart had oft before Withstood the crafty wiles of Cupid; Who voted Love, in fact " deuc'd stupid. : " Enter," he called, then — '* wait I'll see Who this faint applicant may be. ' ' He looked, and there before him stood A little maid in cloak and hood. " Who may you be, my little one ?" The brown eyes glanced demurely down As soft replied the little dame, " Platonic friendship, sir, 's my name." li Welcome, thrice welcome then," cried he, " Right often have I wished for thee, For with thy presence in my heart I'll snap my fingers at Love's dart." 36 CORNELL VERSE. But while he chuckled to himself At that poor lorn, defeated elf, Sly Cupid threw off mask and guise, And stood confessed before his eyes. MORAI,. Should love attempt to find a way Into your hearts, don't say him nay; For find a way he surely will, 'Till mountain streams shall run uphill. —John Alan Hamilton. HISTORY AS SHE IS CRITICISED. \ X7HEN Columbus, on discovery bent, Across an unknown ocean went, How uselessly his time was spent. For you and I as critics know His work had been done — years ago. When Shakespeare wrote those wondrous plays For men of every age to praise And made the stage with glory blaze— 'Twas fruitless toil. We critics claim He had no right to work or fame. When Washington his little hatchet Had used and didn't try to patch it By lying, so he wouldn't "catch it " — 'Twas foolish— scholars all agree There was no hatchet and no tree. GOOD NIGHT. 37 When Pocahontas' naughty pop Decided John Smith's head to chop She threw herself between— yelled "stop!" 'Twas wasted breath — for critics say She mended socks at home that day. And, would you think it? — you and I Are daily making history lie If we do anything but die. For critics when our lives they've twisted, Will prove we never have existed. —Albert Ellis Hoyt. GOOD-NIGHT. r* OOD-NIGHT ! Good-night ! The rippling stream ^■^ Sings to the trees that idly dream, From whose dark tops the night-bird's song Floats with the babbling waves along. Good-night ! The bright-eyed daisy keeps Watch while the wild oxalis sleeps; And, looking up, reflects a star In each green meadow near and far. Good-night! Good-night! The wooded hill No longer hears the rumbling mill, But still resounds, in echoes weak, The blended voices of the creek. No breeze disturbs the maple's leaves; The spider now his cobweb weaves ; And to the full moon pale and bright, The whole world sings: "Good-night! Good-night!" — William Chauncey Langdon, Jr. 38 CORNELL VERSE. THE SURPLUS. QUOTH the grave old college Senior, With a Mentor-like demeanor: "Overcrowded all things human; Surplus men and surplus women ; Surplus everywhere we see ; Can this problem solved be?" Archly at her true love smiling, All his sombre gloom beguiling; Lightly from his logic turning, Thus she answers to his learning: "Seems to me that's easy done; Doesn't marriage make two one?" —Albert Ellis Hoyt. T THE CONSECRATION OF THE BEAUTIFUL. ^UR modern science seeks to prove All matter and all force Are indestructible, and move Through one unending course, And forces are but forms of one Derived from one great source, the sun. The beautiful, it may be shown, Has life eternal, too, And in an empire of its own Is ever formed anew. Although it seems to fade and fly, 'Tis but transformed — it cannot die. CONSECRATION OF THE BEAUTIFUL. 39 For when through rosy clouds the sun Doth glide away from sight ; Although the brilliant day is done, The beauties of the night, In moon and stars from heaven's seat, The splendor of the day repeat. Or if the clouds eclipse the moon They fall in gentle showers, And all the earth begins to bloom, A paradise of flowers. Or lightning, through the heavens torn, Reveals the beauty of the storm. The forest on the mountain side Lifts high its leafy head ; . In autumn blushes like a bride ; And when the leaves are dead, The soft white mantle of the plain Is proof their death was not in vain. And Nature's laws, with wondrous heed, A latent beauty store; The flowers droop, but in their seed They live to bloom once more. And beauty stored within the brain, In memory breaks forth again. In Beauty's realm each changing force Exists within the mind, And love is the eternal source In which each different kind Of beauty finds its pristine birth, And is sent forth to bless the earth. 4o CORNELL VERSE. And love and beauty through the world Move onward hand in hand, And breathe upon the human soul, That man may understand, In earth, as in the heaven above, All things are beautiful through love. — Adna Ferrin Weber. SONNET. (To my chum's piano. ) TF thou couldst know what oft of thee I crave, Then surely wouldst thou lasting quiet keep, And therebv comfort one who oft would weep When thy sweet power doth drive from studies grave, Doth steal 'way thoughts of quiz, and makes me slave To that voluptuous might which puts to sleep When most I should my senses keep. 4 'No! No!" I cry. "To learn one must be brave!" Vainly I plead. Though long and earnestly I pray, Thou hast no pity, mercy for poor me. Thy melody doth swell ; like one ensnared, I lift my feeble head, but still as prey Fall to thine o'erwhelming mastery And thus at quiz to-morrow must murmur, " Not pre- pared. ' ' — Charles Joseph Levy. A SNOWFLAKE. 41 LUKE THE PURITAN. f^H, he was a squire of high degree, That fit in the wars of the old eountree, But he was as glum as he could be, This squire of the olden time. He loved fair Rose of the saucy lip, But he saw his love to the altar trip, With John of the Hall, and he smote his hip, And hated all womankind. So lie reformed from his soul to his toes, And married a girl with a big hook nose To help him forget the dainty Rose That bloomed by the garden wall. She made him hate all women worse, So he saddled his horse with a mighty curse, And rode to the wars, and here my verse Must leave my Puritan. — Herbert Crombie Howe, A SNOWFLAKE. A MERRY, dancing, tiny thing, ** That floats down through the silent air, Or, fanned by passing breeze's wing, Is lightly borne, now here, now there. Before she nears the dull brown earth, She rises up and seeks to find The higher realms that gave her birth, With others of her kind. 42 CORNELL VERSE. About she twirls in mad'ning maze, Till wearied, like a dove at night, That scarce its snowy head can raise, In foreign country stays its flight, Nor thinks how home may be attained. So she now sinks (slow is her fall) Until the hostile ground is gained, O'erspread with autumn's loathsome pall. And there she lies; but 'tis not long — She melts from sight, the one most fair Of all that wilful, gladsome throng That danced so gaily in mid-air. Ah! many souls to me, it seems, Like her to heavens high have grown, Whom Fate called from their idle dreams, And cast upon a world unknown, Whence, all too tender to remain, They silently have passed away As she — not fashioned for the pain Of contact with Earth's cruel clay. — Bertha Marion Brock. ON A BUST OF A. D. W. (In the Cornell Library. ) IN marble cold of spotless white, Carved by a master hand, How many a student will delight To trace the marks of spirit grand, Of rarest culture in the land, AT THE ARMORY. 43 Of high resolve and purpose strong To aid the right, to conquer wrong, To stand the good of earth among ; But, ah. how little can reveal The poet with his nietred song, Or sculptor with unfeeling steel : The generous heart is never known By gazing on the sculptured stone; That power that makes the meanest feel There is a something better far Than wealth and fame and knowledge are, That makes the proudest-hearted own The sway of feelings that enthrone The princely brotherhood of man. — Louis Carl Ehle. AT THE ARMORY. THE under classman's face grows bright; About his lips a smile doth play; His eyes have caught the joyful words Upon the board : " No drill to-day. ' ' —A. H. F. 44 CORNELL VERSE. A LOGICAL COURTvSHIP. ( Dedicated to the Sophomores. ) D ARBARA was a lovely girl who had a Perfect Figure, Her mouth a smile, her hair in curl, and pretty as a picture. Now, weary of my Singular Term, I'd paid her oft atten- tion, Till her father asked me, plain and firm, my Meaning and Intention. A Proposition seemed to me — a Universal one, too — Most Valid for us both to be, would I the dearest girl woo. One day I chanced to meet my love— Per Accidens, just mind — And kissed by sunny skies above and fanned by mild soft wind, We sat beneath the branches of the Tree of Porphyry, And in the magic spell of love were happy as could be. I stole a kiss; she blushed and said: "That process is Illicit!" And yet she did not move her head ; what could I do but kiss it? These words then in her ear I sighed: "'T must either be or not be, ' ' While Euler's Diagrams I tried (my arm around her waist — see?) She looked first thoughtful, then looked glad: what answer did she deign to give? Oh, lucky man! Oh, rapture mad! that Particular Affirmative. —Benjamin Nathan. FOOTBALL REQUISITES. 45 FOOTBALL REQUISITES. \ TLfHAT makes a model football man? A massive frame, built on a plan Like that the Grecian gods assumed When warring 'gainst a city doomed; The muscles strong as braided wire, And limbs which never seem to tire; Rapidity of hand and eye, And feet that fairly seem to fly ; Endurance to withstand each shock, Unyielding as the solid rock, — 'Tis only traits like these that can Combine to make a football man. What makes a model football man? A heart, that since it first began With life the body to supply, Has beat with courage pure and high; A pluck that will not learn defeat From any team that one may meet; Which risks the limbs, and laughs at pain, Nor hesitates to try again ; And college spirit fostered well, Like that which thrives at old Cornell, — 'Tis only traits like these that can Combine to make a football man. — Adna Ferrin Weber, 46 CORNELL VERSE. MY TRUE LOVE. '"THOU, my sweet one, when thou'rt near me, Naught but joy my heart can find ; Naught but bliss can then steal o'er me, All my cares are left behind. Let these lips once more caress thee; Come thou, soothe my troubled breast. Thou, my pipe, again I bless thee ; 'Mong all my loves, I love thee best. CONDITIONED. TO summer's brief joys I give court, And each day seems the same repetition Of pleasures, when, lo! my report — It shows I've incurred a condition! A yearning will come, as I pore Over tomes of most drear erudition, For tennis. I'll study no more; To-morrow I'll Bohn that condition. Fair maids show me cool, shady nooks, And they hold me in happy submission — A lover. Away with dull books ; I ne'er will take up my condition. THAT VOICE. 47 Vacation has faded away ; Alas! I've not paid my tuition — Professor, oh! why did you say I've failed to pass off my condition! —H. R. H. THAT VOICE. CITTING alone in my study, In the lamplight's mellow glow. My thoughts are wandering backward To the scenes of long ago. And I think of that one short season When the world was bright and gay ; All things seemed good, and shadows Ne'er crossed my onward way. And again from out the stillness That voice comes still and sweet; Words that are never forgotten, Words one can never repeat. No words of scorn or pity, No words of scorn or fear, But words of love and kindness In that soft, sweet voice I hear. Heaven grant, when this life is over, And I pass from this earth here below, I will meet in that land over yonder That voice of those days long ago. — Amy Gerecke. 4 8 CORNELL VERSE. THE MODEL STUDENT. MO nights up late unless at books, No brain chock full of empty nooks, No smoking deadly cigarettes, No pitching cents or making bets, No smoking pipes on college walks, No library-disturbing talks, No taking, from the stand, umbrellas, No "changing" hats with other fellows, No poker chips' right merry clinks, No drowning sorrow down at Zinck's. No Bohn's edition, nor a horse, No ponies, cribs, or cuts — or worse; No slang, no oaths, no talk that's shoddy: In fact, no other than — Nobody ! — Benjamin Nathan. T CORNEIvLSCHMERTZ. (Among a collection of landscapes ) HE long room stretches into dusky gloom, The soft light falls in glorifying rays On paintings, etchings, bits of light and shade, Suggestions of an artist's dreamy days. I revel in the color richness there I revel at Art's cunning that has caught The hues of sunset, wood and hill and field, Their deepest meaning on mere canvas wrought. CORNEL LSCHMER TZ. 49 But while I gaze, from every line and tint Remembrance doth a dearer story tell. Each picture calls a memory, dim or bright, Of happy comradeship with thee, Cornell. Wide placid rivers winding far away, Blue sparkling lake depths, white foam dashed on high, Mean fair Cayuga in its varying moods, Responsive to the moods of changing sky. In wood crowned hills, in valley's gentle lap, In meadow's green, in rolling upland's swell, I see the setting which has made thy name Mean all of beauty and of charm, Cornell. I catch a glimpse of Enfield's rocky gorge In cliffs that tower abruptly to the sky; Each mountain stream in glen or deep ravine, Is Cascadilla's torrent rushing by. Dark hemlock boughs bend 'neath their weight of snow, As o'er thy winding paths on wintry days, Here flame the autumn tints, there lie the warm brown woods As in thy Indian summer's faint blue haze. This after-glow that melts in purple dusk, Whose soft dark veil o'er lake and valley lies, Where but beyond thy sloping western hills Could bloom such tender violets in the skies ? Hark ! surely those are chimes. From neighboring square Peals forth the voice of sweet toned vesper bell, But not thy chimes. Swift rush the sudden tears, Ah ! happy, happy days with thee, Cornell. 50 CORNELL VERSE. SUNDAY. (In Ithaca. ) JT'IS Sunday; all the world is stilled, A calm breathes o'er the air; With tranquil peace my heart is filled, Good will towards all I bear. All nature rests; the shrubs and trees Add quiet to the day ; I dream in happy, peaceful ease With thoughts far, far away. Ah, silence works a mighty charm On such men as I am; No sound — but what's that wild alarm ? " m\-mi-i-ra. Tele-gra-a-m." — Benjamin Nathan. THE CHIMBS OF CORNELL. (Written by C. F. Allen, '73, and read at the first annual dinner of the Rocky Mountain Cornell Alumni Association, Denver, Col.) TT was in the ripening autumn 1 Of the year of '69, That I saw the Cornell campus With some anxious friends of mine. In the sight of fair Cayuga, Robed in mysteries of blue, We filed our entrance papers With the little that we knew. THE CHIMES OE CORNELL. 51 The years have fled like eagles, In a dozen varying climes; But we still may hear the ringing Of the un forgotten chimes. On the hills of Newfield, faintly, On the bosom of the lake, Like the footbells of a fairy, Would their dying echoes break. In the deep, eternal canon, By the sea's sad, sounding shore, They have rung their changes often As they never rung of yore. O'er the trail of high Sierras, Where the patient burro climbs, We have heard the unseen swinging, We have heard the Cornell chimes. I start sometimes and listen To the ponderous middle bell; Then the sweet face of its giver Is awakened by the spell, Or the minor tones ring sadly, For another's vanished life; For her gifts despoil in giving At the shameless hands of strife. But their warm hearts speak forever, In a flood of mellow hymns; They are still small voices mingled In the aria of their chimes. 52 CORNELL VERSE. We have passed sometimes so closely To the reaper's cruel scythe; We have faced the storm and darkness- We have saved alone the tithe. We may sow the grain in gladness, But we reap with weary hands, Knotting in our stricken lilies, With the golden harvest-bands. Yet the sun need not be hidden, Nor the stars in troublous times, There is courage born of music, There is magic in the chimes. They uplift the misty curtains, From the fair expanse of years; There are hands outstreched to help us, There are eyes that fill with tears. The soldier dies exultant, With a kiss upon his lir sfs ( p-N" ■ '. THE COMING OF GITCHEKWASIND. 99 Kenwah looked upon her, smiling, "Gitchekwasind, all is well; Wampum will I send thy people, Thou with us shalt joyous dwell. "And this maid shall be thy comfort, In thy wigwam sing all day, Constant labor in thy cornfields, Plait the reeds and grasses gay. ' ' So said Kenwah, Ishgoo added, 1 ' Good the deed that thou hast done, For perchance this youth may struggle With the Palefaced Coming One. "Kenwah will be old and powerless A spent fire, a faded name, Gitchekwasind's arm will threaten, Answer nobly flash with flame." Passed the day in deep rejoicing, Passed to many a song's gay thrill, But when sunset dyed the heavens All grew strangely hushed and still. On the shore with Wassanita Gitchekwasind stood alone And their spirits blended gently With the autumn wind's light moan. Peace lay o'er the blended heavens, Brooded on Cayuga's breast, And the hearts of youth and maiden Brimmed with love's most perfect rest. — Oreo la Williams, 'gy. ioo CORNELL VERSE. THE RINGING OF THE CHIMES. f^AYUGA'S vale is ringing With chimes so sweet and clear, Through rocky clefts and gorges They echo far and near; They mingle with the music Of many a waterfall; Their melody's the sweetest Our memory can recall. They clang on winter mornings Upon the frosty air, And summon throngs of students, To wait on learning fair; And borne upon the breezes, They float o'er hill and dale, To many a distant hamlet In fair Cayuga's vale. And when the twilight shadows Upon the valley fall, They sing in gentle cadence The sweetest song of all. They sing 'mid fairy moonlight, And star-lit groves and bowers, A song of youth and beauty; Those joyful bells of ours. Cornell's alumni wander To every state and clime, All ill their memory bearing The echo of that chime; TO THE RAIN. k And as it tinkles faintly, They see Cayuga's dell; And shout with sudden gladness, "Cornell, I yell— Cornell ! " — Alexander Otis, TO THE RAIN. DATTER, soft patter, in rhymthic refrain, While I list to thy cadence, O musical rain. Quenched are the fires that burn in the blue, Drenched are the meadows stretched far past the blue, Dim thro' the night float thy garments of mist, Moist is the pane that thy soft lips have kissed; Patter, soft patter, in gentle refrain, While I dream to thy measures, O musical rain. Patter, soft patter, . My lady's asleep. Fair o'er the pillow her silken locks creep; Veiled are the deep, silent wells of her eyes As she dreams of Love's dawning in Youth's rosy skies. Patter, soft patter. Patter, soft patter, in gentle refrain, Soothe her and woo her, O musical rain. Teach her that sunshine in shadow must swoon; That clouds blow across the gold disk of the moon; That life must be gloomed by the gray mists of pain; But that Love still endures thro' the storm and the rain. Patter, soft patter, nor woo her in vain. Gentle, persistent, low murmuring rain. — Oreola Williams ', '97. CORNELL VERSE. THE RACE. A LONG the way one Springtime day I rode— a maid beside me. The violets blue, the myrtles too, Shone as her eyes defied me. " You idle stand and ask my hand! I' faith a daring lover! Could you beat me to yon oak tree I'd give thee it forever." We raced along the breeze was strong, Her streaming hair gleamed brightly; Her figure bent with all intent; Her steed she guided lightly. No chance had I. She seemed to fly Or ride a steed enchanted. She reached the oak and thus she spoke As I her victory granted: " I've won the race, and yet the grace Of victory shall be yours. Take now my hand; at your command 'Twill be while life endures." — Anon. o CASTLE BUILDING. \ A/E wandered down the deep ravine When sunset flowers were redly glowing, And all the vale with purple sheen And golden smoke was overflowing, DAISIES. 103 The mountain's slopes were still ablaze, The tree-tops burned like waving torches, And rainbow rays of rosy haze Were flushing all the woodland porches. So, hand in hand, we rested still, And upward looked through sunset splendor — So, heart in heart, in loving thrill, Grew mute beneath the glamor tender; And thus we built, with painted mist, Our castles grand from floor to coping, Until the last low sunbeam kissed The gray ravine, and left us— groping. Ah me, my love! the darkness falls Full soon, to shroud our brightest dreaming; And golden roofs and crystal walls Are based, full oft, on cloudy seeming. But hand in hand, and heart with heart, We twain abide the twilight hoary, And wait until the shadows part That hide from us our house of glory. —F. W DAISIES. AND'RING through the fields together— Phillida and I Gathered daisies shining brightly 'Neath the summer sky. 104 CORNELL VERSE. Phillida, with hair as golden As the daisy's heart, Glancing archly as she did so, Pulled the flowers apart. " One I love," she whispered softly. " Would 'twere I," I said, "Two I love," her voice continued. "Fickle, fickle maid!" "Three I love, I say," was murmured. M Thou'rt inconstant Miss!" " Four I love—" but then I stopped her — Stopped her with a kiss. " Phillida, now tell me truly, Dost thou love me, say ?" " Thee I love with all my heart and Ne'er will cast away." — R. 0. S CLOUDLAND. /^\FTEN you have seen at sunset, ^^^ O'er a hilltop far away, When the sky behind was brightened With the red of dying day, How a cloud, as o'er it hovered, Seemed another hill to you But because 'twas nearer heaven Fairer seemed and far more true. OUR BUD. 105 So, one day, while straying westward, With the sunset 'fore me spread, Met I maidens coming toward me, Wand'ring whither fancy led; One in passing gave a greeting, — 'Twas kind Friendship's utterance, — But the other silent met me, Aye, but gave me one sweet glance! Dear as was the spoken greeting, Dearer, glance so shyly cast! Friendship's sun shone on the first one; It was Love illumed the last. — Anon. OUR BUD. /^UR Bud is home from college ^ > ^ Ez slick as he can be, He knows about a hundred times More'n Sary Ann or me. He wears a standin' collar, An' necktie solid white, An' says them siety germans Is simply out of sight. An' he aint half as bashful Ez all his brothers wuz, An' smokes his segarettes Like city fellers does. 106 CORNELL VERSE. He's bound to climb the ladder Away up purty high, An's sure to be an engineer I 'spect some day, or try. -Anon. THE STUDENT. [ IFE is full drear! I fain would slay For very spleen this piteous clay, Reject false hope, renounce the dream Of seeming goals that only seem, Give o'er a quest with gloom so rife And win for aye an end of strife, Were't not for thee, thou more than life! For when at times an eager thought Broods over what may yet be wrought From out the mystic years to be To guerdon tireless industry — Poor things, mayhap, yet time might see Them dear, for my sake, .sweet, to thee Shouldst thou at all be near to me — Such sight anon reheartens hope And makes an erstwhile boundless scope Close down to narrow limits, such As hold no height from Passion's touch, No magic lore-depth but will give Its best as L,ove's prerogative — And thus for thee, pure heart, I live. A 71071. BALLAD OF DEADHEAD HILL. 107 IN THE LIBRARY, t fcHTELL me, maiden debonair, Tell me, fondly pleading, Who's the man that sits up there, With the face so soft and fair, And the black and beauteous hair, Who surveys with haughty stare Everyone here reading.? " " You mean the fellow with the air Of a girl of Boston ? With a smile like angels wear? He's a bird of plumage rare, Though his beard's in need of care; He and Simpson make a pair — That is Willy Austin." — Ghost. BALLAD OF DEADHEAD HILL. \X7HERE Cornell athletes win their fame There is a game to-day, and see How crowds throng in to see the game Just as the clock is striking three. The players enter silently, The slogan rises sharp and shrill And echoes back triumphantly From those who sit on Deadhead Hill. io8 CORNELL VERSE. We all agree it is a shame They should behold a contest free For which we pay, but just the same We feel a silent sympathy. And should the game a poor one be, We envy those whose spirits thrill W T ith joy that they had paid no fee, But watched the game from Deadhead Hill. So let us not too rudely blame Those who do so from poverty, Who from these heights behold a game They else could not afford to see. Loyal they always prove to be; So may the summits ever fill With those who chorus lustily Cornell's applause from Deadhead Hill. l'Envoi. What's that ! a visitor for me ? Oh, yes, my tailor with his bill; I'll have to watch the game, I see, This afternoon, from Deadhead Hill. — Ghost. FOUND! ON' THE CAMPUS. CILVHR buckle, Silken ribboned, Found upon the campus walk, What peculiar Things you'd tell us If your silver tongue could talk. ON THE SHORE AT NIGHT. 109 Who is it Has claimed your service? Breathe her name, oh, tell me who! Let me know Who lost you, be she High-born Miss or Kappa Mu! Silence still ? Well, I will keep you, Hang you as a trophy fair On my study wall, among Your sister trophies hanging there. — Willie Green. VESPERTINE. THE organ tones are dying through the temple, The rolling anthem trembles on the air, The white-stoled choir, with lowly mien and humble, Have bowed their heads to list the vesper prayer. A hush! the bells the sunset hour are pealing, The blazoned windows glow with western flame, From unseen heights o'er every soul are stealing Paeans to old Cornell's unfading name. — Anon ON THE SHORE AT NIGHT. \ \ /E think too seldom of the stars, And live too near ourselves, And hear too rare the waves beat on the bars Of the unending sea. CORNELL VERSE. We make the little circle of our influence The marge of all of worth, Nor realize the telescope's Small end is toward the earth. — Louis Carl Ehle. FAIR BUT FALSE. 4 t IT AVE you forgotten " — soft I said, 11 That night three years ago — I coaxed you for a lock of hair?'* " Forgotten it? Oh, no!" M It was a lovely curl that played About your forehead fair; I've treasured it through all these years-»- That little lock of hair; " Thro' all these years I've kept it in A pocket of my vest." " You've really kept it ? So have I, That is, I've kept the rest. M 'Tis pinned up now upon the wall, And often still we laugh, — My friends and I, — about the man Who stole the other half; " For on that oft remembered night You spoiled, without a pang, — Yes, absolutely ruined, sir, My new imported bang." —Edward Michael Burns. THE SPIRIT OF THE CHIMES. THE SENSATIONAL REPORTER. /^VER the campus, through the city, Like a gathering storm, Venting scandal, brewing discord, Speeds a fleeting form. Cursed with oaths, bruised with blows, Never asking quarter, Yet he goes and gets the news — Sensational reporter! — Theron Dexter Davis. THE SPIRIT OF THE CHIMES. UROM out the lofty tower In the early morning's light, The chimes are pealing a glad farewell To the gloomy shades of night. The master stands at the key-board, And neath his skillful hand The bells ring out — now soft and low; Now echoing through the land. And as he plays, he ponders In gay or solemn vein, Till thoughts far, far too deep for words Creep into the bell's sweet strain. CORNELL VERSE. But the busy, thoughtless, hurrying throng, Filled with the cares of the day, Give little heed to their cadences, As they haste upon their way. What though the hand that moves the keys Be gay to-day — or sad ? What care they, though the undertone Be mournful, now, or glad ? Yet 'mid the hurrying, jostling throng There is, perchance, sometimes A soul that listens, and responds, To the spirit of the chimes. — Edward Michael Burns. A STUDENT'S TOIL. 4 t \ A/HY is it that from yonder tower The student's lamp is burning still, Tho' it is past the midnight hour, And sleep is brooding on East Hill?" "Is it for old, historic lore, Or modern science he would seek; Or strives he now his mind to store With learning from the classic Greek ?" " 'Tis not the wisdom of the sages Or science fair that him enchants; An earthlier task his time engages — He's sewing buttons on his pants." —Jared Van Wagenen,Jr. "FAR ABOVE CAYUGA'S WATERS." 113 O MY PIPE. MEERSCHAUM, meerschaum, Born of the sea, Dearest of all things Thou art to me. Comrade, comrade, Better than shrine; Thoughts leap from my heart, As smoke curls from thine. Meerschaum, meerschaum, Aid to reflection, Dissolve all my blues, Remove my dejection. — Kennedy Furlong Rubert. "FAR ABOVE CAYUGA'S WATERS." \ A/HERE do students strive for learning, Strive with all a scholar's yearning; With the Oxford cap scholastic, With a life and mien monastic ? Where the breezes blow the strongest, Where the sun's rays linger longest, Where earth's mantle seems the newest, Where Cayuga's blue seems bluest — " Far above Cayuga's waters." H4 CORNELL VERSE. Where do students do their wooing, All their billing and their cooing, With a maiden sage, yet. willing, Life to blissful measure filling ? Where the pines are ever sighing, Where the falls' roar never dying, Where men love to pause and ponder, Where men love to rest or wander — " Far above Cayuga's waters." — Kennedy Furlong Rubert. TO A ROSE. \X7ITHERED rose before me lying, How you send my thoughts a flying To the past that sets me sighing O'er a vision fair. Of a woman tall and queenly, Wondrous fair, and tall, and seemly, Standing proudly and serenely On the landing stair. Rose, all thy beauty has left thee, Years of color have bereft thee; Years but color yet more deftly The vision on the stair. — Kennedy Furlong Rubert. ARBUTUS. 115 SHE FOOLED HIM; LJ E was a gay young deceiver, She was a simple believer; His time to beguile He'd fool her a while, And then he would suddenly leave her. He wrote her a nice little letter, As a matter of course he knew better; Not stopping to think He confided to ink The expressions which forged him a fetter. When at last he was ready to shake her, Elsewhere to play as a fakir; But the letter in court, Cut the matter quite short, It was ten thousand dollars, or take her. —John Kneeland Garnsey ARBUTUS. \X7HEN early Spring from Winter, laughing, leaps, 'Neath the dead leaves the sweet Arbutus creeps; These withered leaves that in late Autumn died, Have well protected April's blushing pride. So 'tis in life, beneath the coldest brow May beat a heart alive to friendship's glow, And, like the forest flower, is beauty found Deep hidden, 'neath the leaves that strew the ground. — D. S. T. n6 CORNELL VERSE. CREW SONG. ANWARD, like the swallow going, ^^^ Roused is every nerve and sense. Oh, the wild delight of knowing 'Tis our power that does the rowing ! Oh, the joy of life intense ! Rest was made for feebler folk; Onward ! make her cut the water, And for fame of Alma Mater Stroke ! Stroke ! Stroke ! Deep we drink the inspiration, Eager zest lights up each face; Ecstacy and exultation Come from honest emulation In the contest and the race. Nerves of iron and hearts of oak, Under eye of youths and maidens, Catch the ringing, swinging cadence — Stroke ! Stroke ! Stroke ! Steady now ! let no distraction Slow the speed of oar or shell; All in unison of action Win the noble satisfaction — Victory for old Cornell ! Coolly every power invoke. Do not break in sweep or " feather," One last effort! All together! Steady! old Cornell forever ! Stroke ! Stroke ! Stroke ! — Robert J a mes Kellogg. ALMA MATER. 117 AIvMA MATER. COI^EGE SONG. r\ ALMA MATER, name we loved When life was young and free, And buoyant hope not yet had proved Time's untried mystery; Still in our hearts thine image lies, Nor dim thy memory; Though youth be past, While life shall last We still shall honor thee ! What though from classic halls we stray, And miss thine influence pure, The riches thou didst once convey Forever shall endure ! For truest wealth is youthful heart When hair is tinged with gray And age crowds fast, With frosty blast, Our steps along life's way. Dear Alma Mater, name we love With untouched constancy, May all thy sons full grateful prove, Nor ceased their crowning be ! Ne'er, ne'er shall we forget thy fame, Whatever lot we see; Till manhood's passed, While life shall last, We still shall honor thee ! — Alfred Sidney Johnson. n8 CORNELL VERSE. AUTUMN. \X/HERE Spring her verdant mantle threw, Now lies a bed of brighter hue; The earth by spring endowed and blest, Now turns in Winter's lap to rest. Where sang the bird in early morn, Now sounds the hunter's ringing horn; The deer, pursued by horse and hound, Now quivering lies on the cruel ground. So 'tis with life, by God instilled, With hearty strength and art well-skilled; These occupy our earlier days; But with the sun's declining rays, Comes rest for work done well and long. The soul now rests in tranquil song, And hears the angel choir repeat, " Rest, weary soul, at God's own feet." —R. S. M. THE LAST SWEET GLIMPSE. COR many a long and active year I have wandered about this world so free, But every spot seems bleak and drear To my balm-blown land by the sunset sea; But if you are kind I know you'll agree When I praise above all that home-sweet place, For there I saw — though the shadows flee — . The last sweet glimpse of my mother's face. A DIFFERENCE. 119 These eastern hills I much revere, But there grows on their slopes no gorgeous tree, Like those that shelter the spotted deer, In my balm-blown land by the sunset sea. For memory's hand has been kindly to me, And has painted a picture that time can't erase; And to it I'm loyal, for above it I see The last sw T eet glimpse of my mother's face. And when I'm sad, or filled with fear, Or w 7 eary with work, or failure foresee, I close my tired eyes, and fly swiftly here To my balm-blown land by the sunset sea. And my poor heart grows happy, and dances with glee, And thrills 'neath the pressure of loving embrace, And I dream of that parting which ne'er more shall be: The last sweet glimpse of my mother's face. — B. D. T. A DIFFERENCE. 'THE sun stole a kiss from the rosebud red, At dawn on yesterday; The rosebud blushed, she hung her head, And shame-faced turned away. And I stole a kiss the self-same day 'Neath mistletoe o'er the door; The maiden blushed, but I am sorry to say, I fear she expected more. -J. R. D. 120 CORNELL VERSE. THE GAME OF LIFE. A LONE, but for my thoughts profound, An after-dinner weed I burn; 'Tis eve, and twilight hovers 'round; I hesitate my text to learn, Because my thoughts do forward fly Into the future, oh ! so high, When I must reach my aim or fall, Unknown, unnoticed, shunned by all. Of life's great game I'm thinking now, Uncertain yet, to win or lose; Will Pluto to me suppliant bow, Or I to him — which shall I choose? My college days will soon be past; And when I reach that time at last, Then, forth into this world of strife, I go to play the game of life. Oh ! shall I reach ambition's end, And stand on high the Temple Fame ? Oh ! can I all my wrongs amend, And bear some day an honored name ? Ye prophet, tell me, is it so — What most of all I wish to know — Will she, my sweetheart, be my wife In this uncertain game of life ? Or shall I lose in life's great game, And downward sink in Stygian gloom, With no one but myself to blame ? O Fates, is this indeed my doom? THE MINSTREL'S CURSE. 121 Must I descend in dark despair, Enticed by Bacchus to his lair, Or wooed by Com us to his fold, To grow in vice as I grow old ? I'm thinking of this game to-night, Bach hour's a play on toward the goal; Sometimes its wrong, sometimes its right — An awful game fought o'er my soul; My college days will soon be past, And when I reach that time at last, Then, forth into this world of strife, I go to play the game of life. — Fred Lezvis Jones. THE MINSTREL'S CURSE. (From the German.) IN olden ages, once, there stood a castle, wondrous fair; It reared its towers and battlements proudly into the air, And round about were gardens, filled with flowers of per- fume sweet, Where birds, with joyous melody, the morning sun would greet. Within its walls a monarch, stern and cruel, held regal sway, Who kept his courtiers, day and night, in terror and dismay. 122 CORNELL VERSE. No smile e'er crossed his countenance, sullen and fierce his mood; The words he spake were flames of fire, his deeds were writ in blood. One day unto the castle fair, two minstrels bent their way; The one, a youth with golden locks, the other old and gray. And he whose hair was silver white, upon a horse did ride, The while the youth, with joyous song, ran gaily at his side. Then spake the aged bard: " My son, our journey's end is near; Bethink thee of our sweetest songs, of sadness and of cheer, And let thy voice in strongest tones of joy or sorrow ring, For here we come to-day, to move the stone heart of the king." They stand within the spacious hall, before the monarch's throne, And from the old man's harp the chords ring out in full- est tone; And as their blended voices now in sweetest anthem rise And fill the hall, the courtiers all are bound with pleased surprise. They sang of joy and sorrow, they sang of peace and strife; They sang of all that sweetest is within our human life; They sang of sober wisdom, and then of merry jest; They sang ol all that noble is, within the human breast. THE MINSTRELS CURSE. 123 The monarch's warriors, who oft the battlefield have trod, The monarch's flattering courtiers, too, bow at the praise of God; The noble queen, emotioned by the songs of love and truth, Took from her breast a crimson rose, and threw it to the youth. Up rose the king in anger, and cried: u Upon my life, My subjects ye've perverted, and now ye would have my wife. Ha, knaves! for this dishonor my vengeance ye shall feel!' 9 And deep into the stripling's heart he plunged his sword of steel! And while the throng in horror stood, nor dared to utter sound, The fair-haired bard, in agony, fell dead upon the ground. And lo! the minstrel old, his cloak upon the youth let fall; Then took the corpse up in his arms, and with it left the hall. He paused before the castle gate, and threw his harp away; There, at his feet, upon the ground, it broke and shat- tered lay. One more sad glance upon the youth he cast, in deep despair, And then, with hand upraised, he cried in tones that clove the air: 124 CORNELL VERSE. "Woe unto thee, O castle fair! Abode of death and crime! No more within thy walls may song or laughing music chime! May thy foundations tremble, thy domes and spires fall, Nor leave a trace to mark the place where once stoodst, withal! "Woe unto ye, O gardens, and ye flowers of perfume rare! Ye birds whose melodies so sweet rise on the morning air! No more shall merry sunshine be your lot, but in its stead May Heaven frown upon ye, till ye withered are and dead. "Woe unto thee, foul murderer! thou curse of minstrelsy! Thy reign in misery shall end, thy name forgotten be! And while thou liv'st may war and strife e'er be thy sub- jects' doom, And when thou'rt dead, deep may'st thou sink into ob- livion's tomb." Thus spake the aged minstrel, and Heaven has heard his words; The castle walls have fallen low, dead are the flowers and birds. The monarch's praise is never sung in merry rhyme or verse, His name hath long forgotten been: such was the min- strel's curse. — Oscar H. Fernback. SHAKESPEARIAN. 125 REPARTEE. THE sun and moon were talking once, — I heard them one fair night, — When of each other's vicious faults The two were making light: "You're full!" the sun spake to the moon, " Perchance you've too much wine on." The moon replied, " Oh, don't you talk, For you've a great old shine on." A cloud came o'er the sun's red face, At this from Heaven's daughter. Then out he spoke, " Well you get full On almost your last quarter!" — Benjamin Nathan. SHAKESPEARIAN. 4 4 VES, I am poor and thou art rich, Yet I sit here, my arms entwined About thy waist; what boots it dear?" " My father boots it, you will find." — Benjamin Nathan. 126 CORNELL VERSE. TO A BRUNETTE. VOU may sing of golden hair, Laughing eyes of blue below, But no other's half so fair As a maiden that I know. Hair of brown that's almost black; Eyes of tender melting brown Smiling throw their glances back ; She's the prettiest girl in town. — R. P. Kelly. O DAWN. H, my love has come out of the East . With the glory of dawn on her brow, And the earth is alight with her presence, The earth that was dark until now. For the sunbeams are caught in her hair, Caught in meshes more golden than they; Like some sweet haloed saint but more fair She comes, the bright herald of day. And her cheeks how they glow with the flush Of the first faint beginnings of day, Till the wild rose is shamed by her blush, And the lilies are pale with dismay. All the earth stirs to meet her with song, As from valley to valley she flies Every bird wakes to greet her and strong Their roundelays of welcome arise. TO MY VALENTINE. 127 Oh, my love is the Lady of Dawn, Who immortal and changeless and young In her glamour and glory lives on In beauty untold and unsung. And my heart pays the vows to her there, That to youth and to beauty belong, To my goddess of Dawn who is fair Past all rapture of silence or song. — W. C. Abbott. TO MY VALENTINE. A LITTLE bird in the apple tree Sang this morn so lustily In the golden sunlight's early beams That he woke me from my slumbering dreams. To his happy mate on the bough above He sang sweet songs of ardent love; Told her how when she was near Earth was bright and life more dear: " The heavens are deep," he whispered low, " But no deeper than my love, I know." And so he sang his songs of love Unto his mate on the bough above. Maid, the bird's rare song so sweet Let me now to thee repeat, Let the bird's sweet song be mine, And thou, be thou my Valentine. —/. #. Dyke, Jr. 128 CORNELL VERSE. PINNING HIS FAITH. 4 4 JV/l Y Valentine, you'll find within "* This billet-doux, a Cornell pin. But do not think," remarked the wag, " My love for you shall everyftz^." -R. P. Kelly. THE SONG SHE USED TO SING. \X7HAT tender strain, What mellow chords Are those I hear Which from my eyelids drain The solitary tear ? How strange it is That after many a year The passion of that day Should waken in my heart The ancient, trembling fear That once I gave full play. What wonder then, When linked to memories dear, The vsong she used to sing Comes stealing on my ear, Draws tribute to forsaken love In this solitary tear. —Sidney Ossoski. THA T LAST S WEE T NIGHT. 1 29 THE CORNELL UNIFORM. t i TS your drill uniform a fatigue one, my son?" Thus an elderly soldier inquired; Came the answer as quick as a shot from a gun, " Yes, it is — for it makes us all tired ! " — Benjamin Nathan. THAT LAST SWEET NIGHT. T^HAT last sweet night, while softly overhead The bright moon shone upon us as we sped Along the roads made silvery by its light, I sorrowed, yet was happy - sad, despite The pleasure that her presence near me shed; Happy, although my joy was nearly dead, My hope's blue sky by darkness overspread. I felt a sweet yet sorrowful delight, That last sad night. At dawn, the while the east grows darkly red, I rise, well knowing that my joy is dead, But Time shall never steal, in his swift flight, The memory of her face, that blessed my sight, Her dear voice, and the low words she said, That last sweet night. — R, P. Kelly. i 3 o CORNELL VERSE, SHATTERED HOPES, t 4 IV/l AY I ask you, will you kindly Go with me to next week's hop?" And his heart beat long and blindly Beat as tho' it ne'er would stop, While he waited all expectant, Waited for her " yes " or " no." " Oh, I thank you, — should be pleased to," And his heart gave joyous bound, And his spirits rose, released to Joy and ecstasy new-found. " But " — her next words brought him earthward, "But with Fred I said I'd go." — /. R. Dyke, Jr. SHADOW AND SUNSHINE. CX& the sand of dark and gloomy ocean ^ > ^ Deep in thought and sad I stood, a youth With doubting thoughts in wild commotion, And watched the waves, and sorrowing asked for truth. *' Reigns there a God in yon blue heaven above me, Is there truth or right on earth below, Is there the good I seek so vainly?" The moaning, sullen waves seemed answering, "No!" But soon the sun from the hills behind me Threw of his rays a handful at my feet; Then the aspen leaves lisped kindly, And the birds sang joyous songs and sweet, IN SUMMER TIME A T ITHACA. 131 The leaves' soft whisperings and the birds' sweet singing Told me that their God still reigned above, And all the sunbeams good were bringing: In my heart were purest joy and love. — / R. Dyke, Jr. IN SUMMER TIME AT ITHACA. (Read at the Washington-Cornell Alumni Dinner, March, 1891.) ""THE chimes for once are silent; they are rusting off the key; The grass grows on the campus much higher than one's knee; The football field where Upton ran is overgrown with weeds, And lecture halls are dusty where were mounted trusty steeds. The doors of Sage are tightly closed. Ah me! how sad the plight! The Sibley shops are all shut down, — there's no electric light. The Gym. is all deserted, the tennis nets are down; The hill is beastly lonesome, but, Lord! you should see the town! The trains run once a week and the grass grows in the street, And the bums are growing sober, for there's no one there to treat. i 3 2 CORNELL VERSE. The shops are closed at three o'clock, and frequently at two, — The owners think of suicide and everybody's blue. The house doors all stand open and the boarding house is still; Landladies count their money and mourn the unpaid bill. The cops are all asleep; Zinckie sadly cleans his mugs, And there's nothing going on but the summer school for bugs. The cable cars have stopped, and the 'busses do not pass, For Hymes has gone a fishing and his stock is out at grass. The town girls mope about because the boys are all away, And there's nothing else to do but to count their scalps all day. A momentary life breaks out when the circus comes to town, And everybody, young and old, turns out to see the clown. The country people all drive in, and for a few short hours The dead alive old country town resumes its former powers. But before the night is over all this life has passed away, And naught but added dust remains reminder of the day. The place seems still more lonesome from contrast with the crowd, And e'en the cats can scarcely muster strength to yowl aloud. L O VE'S HYPNO TISM. 133 If you walk the streets industriously you may meet a man— or two ! But the town is so deserted that you're lucky if you do; And if three men and a dog or so were met on a single block, The sight would be so strange that it would stop the college clock ! The atmosphere of all the place is restful laziness; A man takes half a day to walk a half-mile or less. Of all forsaken places on this terrestrial ball, The worst of them is Ithaca 'tween Commencement and the fall ! — L. O. Hoivard. LOVE'S HYPNOTISM. CHE was a maid, coquettish, fair, ^ Seated before him in a chair; And he a hypnotist. She closed her eyes at his command; Her 'witching face he could not stand; Her ruby lips he kissed. Her violet eyes she opened wide, He, penitently, at her side Knelt, and in humble tone — 4 ' Can you forgive me, dear ?' ' said he. " Hypnotize me again," said she — And he knew she was his own. -S. 134 CORNELL VERSE. QUERIES. \X/HAT did the Oxford tie? * * What did the Baltic sea ? How did the diamond dye ? Where can the honey bee ? When did the canvas sail ? Why did the cod-fish ball ? What did the evening mail ? Whom did the paver's maul ? Whom did the railroad track ? What did the Arctic bear ? What did the carpet tack ? What did the underwear ? Who heard the kitten's tail? Whom did the window screen ? What did the shingle nail ? Who thinks the Paris green ? Who killed the idiot who wrote the above ? And what did he get for that work of love ? — Willie Grey. AT THE GATE. A BOVE the distant height the moon uplifts Her great, round orb and sheds a flood of light Through fleecy clouds with silver lined rifts: I linger now to say a last good-night. ART A T CORNELL. 135 One moment longer in the dreamy glow, Beside the silent archway we await. She softly whispered as I turned to go, " We part to meet to-morrow — at the gate." Oh thou drear angel of the longer sleep, Why hast thou hushed to silence as thine own That dearer self? I lonely vigil keep Beside the form whence life and light have flown. I look upon her in my mute despair, And ask " Wilt thou await me through the flight Of all the years that I thy loss must bear, And at the Gate of Silence keep thy plight?" —H. E. Millholen. ART AT CORNELL. u AT home from Cornell ? Your health very well ?" Thus her questions his relatives starts. ' ' What course ? ' ' He replies, With tears in his eyes, To his innocent torturer, "Arts." " Indeed ! Art at Cornell ! How nice ! Now you'll tell Me what branches you study, I trust. " He swears it is hard As he thinks of his card " Why, — a — chiefly life's-sighs and the bast." — William Courtney Langdon, Jr. 136 CORNELL VERSE. DRILL. T^HRBE days a week the bugles sound, * Three days a week from all around The skurrying underclassmen come Midst sounds of music, roll of drum. As bugler blows the last few notes, And on the air their music floats; Sharp rings the sergeant's cry " Fall in," And then " left face " midst scabbards' din. Then roll is called, the sergeant's book And pencil, with a final look, Are put aw T ay. " Count Fours," he cries; Along the line the answer flies. A moment, death-like silence falls, Silence ominous that appalls As sergeant to the breeze unfolds The nation's standard that he holds. " Sound off," the leader's order conies — An instant and the roll of drums, A moment more the alignment made As one thing that command is swayed. " Present arms," the adjutant cries, " Carry," " Order," to the skies The trembling ether bears the ring Of rattling muskets answering. 'TWAS LENT. 137 Such is the poetry of drill; But classmen love and ever will Far best of all commands or call, The words, " Break Ranks," from sergeants fall. — Kennedy Furlong Rubert. THE WEAKER SEX. CO well she argued woman's right, So fair she was, and too, so bright. I often passed a pleasant hour In testing the sweet maiden's power. 1 ' If then the men you equal quite And to the polls should have a right, Why are the women called," quoth I, "The weaker sex?" she made reply: " When in a general term we speak We picture all mankind as weak; When to the sexes we refer, We have to say, ' weak-him,' ' weak-'er.' " — Frances Boardman. 'TWAS LENT. I WOOED a maiden, young and sweet, In mid-Lent's dullest part; I threw myself at her dear feet, And asked her for her heart. 138 CORNELL VERSE. She smiled and arched her lovely brow, And said, quite innocent, " I cannot give my heart just now, Because, you see, 'tis Lenty — H. B. Crissey. A FAIR CORNEIvUAN. A LONG the road, by willow trees, Beneath a summer sun, By fields, where fragrant heaps of hay Had turned the emerald, dun. Sat Sunshine in the phseton, And talked and laughed with me; As we drove on, to the College town, While birds sang merrily. " Is't Hamilton's pink, or Yale's true blue, Or Union's garnet blaze, You love the most and praise the most?" —I watched the changing gaze. Fair Harvard's crimson filled her cheeks; Her eyelids quickly fell; And still remained the tell-tale hue — The carnelian of Cornell! No need to speak her loyalty, No need its cause to tell ; Yet softly, half unconsciously, She said, " I love Cornell." SHE KNEW THE GRIP. 139 Then some Cornellian may be proud, With fondest heart to claim The loyalty with which she told His Alma Mater's name! —R. SHE KNEW THE GRIP. '"THEY stood a moment at the gate, A maiden fair was she, A Junior he, and there though late, They talked fraternity. 11 And so you think that no one knows So strong the ties are bound, And that the members ne'er disclose The secrets deep, profound?" " I^earn your mistake," she laughing cried, " I know the grip of each." "I think," the Junior slow replied, 11 There is one I could teach. "The Sigma Nu it is," he said, And yielding then at last, That he should teach it her he caught And held her fair form fast. She pouted, blushed, and finally said, As from his grasp did slip, "I think 'twas very mean of you, But then — I've learned the grip." —Ghost, 140 CORNELL VERSE. 'TIS POLICY, YOU KNOW. IT was in the cozy parlor, By the fireside's ruddy glow, That he asked her, earnest, low, " Mary, tell me why you treat me so?" Answered maiden, coy and fickle: "Oh, 'tis policy, you know." " Should I ask you then to give me Just one light and playful kiss, To prove to me that you love me, Would you, now, refuse me this?" Answered maiden, coy and fickle: " It isn't policy to kiss." " Should I ask you then to marry Me your lover, humble slave, Would you, would you then refuse me ? Oh, tell me ere I leave." Thought the maiden, coy and fickle, To refuse past five-and-twenty is not policy I know, And she answered: "No, my darling, no!" — Anon. A WORD OF ADVICE. VOUNG man, are you in earnest, quite, And mean to strive with soul and might Never to swerve, through fear or doubt, From this the work that you're about ? Then note from me a word or two, Which, heeded, you will never rue. A WORD OF ADVICE. 141 In setting forth, without delay, Mark out your course, make clear your way, Heed not the quibbling of the throng; The goal in view cannot be wrong. The world and all its goods are yours, Save what some other hand secures; Then know that ina " strong right arm " Is wealth far greater than a u farm." In all you say and all you do, Be bold, be resolute, be true. Where honor bids, direct your course, And bear what comes without remorse. Honor, you know's a long-necked steed; Though slow at first, he's "bound " to lead, With stronger " wind " and surer feet, All jockeys on the closing heat; And that's the turn you want to win, No matter how the race begin. And now, Sir, to conclude my rhyme, Without usurping more your time, Permit me here to summarize, And set the whole before your eyes, In forms so perfect and concise, That you'll ne'er think it otherwise Than — which it is— the rarest prize You ere possessed. So here it lies In just four lines to memorize: — Protect your fame, for every mar However trivial, leaves a scar; First — serve it zealously and true, And in due time 'twill work for you. — Anon. 142 CORNELL VERSE. FAREWELL. AWAY, away, no more delay! Arouse the engines, spread the sail! Too willingly the tears are starting, Too great the pain and strain of parting, Regrets and sighs of what avail ! Farewell, farewell, the billows swell, And curl, and break, and foam below. Onward the ship is swiftly speeding; The shores behind are fast receding, Tinged with the sunset's dying glow. And though we yearn and fain would turn The homeward track again to seek, True friends will still abide as ever, Such ties the ocean cannot sever, For this it's power is all too weak. And so we trust, since part we must, The months of absence, circling round, Will bring ere long a gladsome greeting, Will but enhance the joy of meeting, When friend with friend once more is found. — Anon. THE SOPHOMORE AT THE BRIDGE. '"THE Sophomore's brow was sad, and the Sophomore's speech was still, And darkly looked he at the bridge, and darkly up the hill, THE SOPHOMORE AT THE BRIDGE. 143 14 The cops will be upon us before the bridge goes down; And if we do not fell the bridge, what hope to gain re- nown ?" Then out spoke a brave Senior, a man most blessed bv fate, " To every man upon this hill death cometh, soon or late. Hew down the bridge, Sir Sophomores, with all the speed ye may, I, with two more to help me, will keep the cops at bay. " Then all Cornellia's noblest felt their hearts fill with gall, And straightway at the timbers they struggled one and all. From the silent hour of midnight till the clock was striking two, The old bridge creaked and trembled with very much ado. But while the dusky creatures with axe and lever plied, There appeared one among them who his features tried to hide; And as he walked among them, took out a little book And quietly put down the names of those he knew by look. Then the students waxed angry, and fell upon the man, (For they hate the rebel traitor who will give away his clan), And hard enough they kicked him to make his blood run chill But that didn't in the least prevent his getting up the hill. 144 CORNELL VERSE. But now the bridge hangs tottering above the glen below, And all, save one lone creature, were swaying to and fro — Their hands upon the rope to pull the structure o'er; But this one lone, still figure stood muttering on the shore. But as the " Heave, Oh, Heave !" came from the depths beneath, From this one lone, still figure through the circle of his teeth, There gently wafted downward in deep, Shakesperean tones, vSome words that sounded much like ' ' Wretched Vaga- bonds !" Then with a crash like thunder fell every loosened board, Not only all the beams but the planks with which 'twas floored. And a long shout of triumph arose from either side, And then they all skedaddled— their bodies for to hide. — Anon. WOMAN. A UTUMN'S gay foliage in color may vie, The woodland may garland the river, Charms may enchant us from Sol's tinted sky, They equal to woman ? Oh never ! Man 'mid the gloom of monastic seclusion Pants out the day on some picturesque height, Dreaming of worlds in his frailty's delusion; Longing for woman, the earth's greatest light. SWEET CHIMES OF CORNELL. 145 Lightly she trips in the sunshine of morning, Modestly forth in her robes of pure white; The garden, the lawn, and the household adorning, Leading the weak and tempering the might. When nature's asleep, when night birds are calling, Lonely she sits by the dying fireside, While down her cheeks the tear-drops are falling, Trickling like the slow ebbing tide. If man would but credit the old Bible story, Handed to him by the angels above, That God is but love in omnipotent glory, Then woman is God, for woman is love. I speak not of those whose smile is deceiving, But blossoms of nature, whose presence I feel Lifting my spirit, niy faint heart relieving, Not the sophistical, but the ideal. — C/ias. E. Countryman . vSWEET CHIMES OF CORNELL. C WEET chimes of Cornell, I remember you well, As oft on my ear your gay greeting fell; Now merrily pealing, now soothingly stealing, With rhythmical cadence or sonorous swell. From afar on the hill, through the air soft and still, With musical voicings the spirit you fill; Floating over the valley, with far echoes dally, And touch the calm lake with a tremulous thrill. 146 CORNELL VERSE. How exultant and gay, with a jubilant play, Have you clamored forth welcomes on many a day, When laurels home bringing, with shout and with singing, The sons of Cornell have honored her sway ! And solemn and slow, with resonant blow, You have tolled the sad knell for revered ones laid low; For the loved most sincerely and the prized most dearly, The noblest and best, and the soonest to go. O chimes of Cornell, what wonderful spell Have you wrought in my senses to love you so well ? For oft in my dreaming, with strange subtle seeming, I hear from afar the sweet chimes of Cornell ! — Eleanor Gray. THE RETURN. •"THROUGH all the sunny summer days, We strayed through winding woodland ways, Or seated by some prattling brook Read Nature's secrets from a book Not conned like Greek or Latin. We breathed the scent of new-mown hay, Cool passing winds from far away, Bore murmuring music to our ears — It may have been of joy or tears, Of vesper or of matin. The rugged pillars of the sky Wrought in us of immensity; The moon above the tranquil deep, The breaking waves that never sleep, Moved us to pleasant dreaming. "TELL ME, MAIDEN." 147 And friends we loved were by our side, Who watched with us the changing tide, Or shifting clouds, or storm-wrapt heights, And eagerly we sought — poor wights — To read their mystic meaning. But now September's drooping leaves, The naked fields, the piled-up sheaves The empty nest of summer bird, Withal, th' authoritative word, Recall us to our duty. With treasure trove of summer lore, Rich, tingling blood, health's goodly store, We dust the old tomes on our shelves, And, since we cannot help ourselves. We seek in books new beauty. — C. H. T. 4 1 nr; "TELL MB, MAIDEN." ELL nie, maiden debonair, With the bright cheeks glowing, Are the scholars all so fair Whither thou art going?" Quick she turns her pretty head, Lifts her lily finger: " Hark ! I hear the chimes," she said, " And I may not linger." " Up to meet the mounting sun, Who are these that follow — In the splendor every one Shining like Apollo ?" 148 CORNELL VERSE. "All Cornellians !" comes the cry, Hearts in voice resounding; "All Cornellians !" make reply, Purple hills resounding. " Wide the land, and wide the sea, Soon are comrades parted. Shall Cornell remembered be By her loyal-hearted ?' ' " Till her walls in dust shall lie, Till her hills shall sever ! Alma Mater till we die — Old Cornell forever !" — Henry Tyrrell. THE BARGAIN. HTHE coat had seen hard usage, The buttons were worn and bent, The wrists of the sleeves were selvage, The elbows torn and rent. The Junior, still and thoughtful, Began to meditate On this coat whose age was doubtful, And thus, at last, he spake: 1 ' Old rag, my love for you is strong; You've served me well and served me long, For this I am very grateful. We've been together many a day; 'Tis cruel now to send you away, A friend you have been most faithful. THE BARGAIN. 149 " But now to sell you I must try, My funds are low, my bills are high, And you'll bring me much welcome chink. Some innocent Freshman I must guy. Those sergeants should bring me nigh Unto two dollars extra, I think. " Your elbows I'll patch, your buttons fix; A Freshman find not up to tricks Of trade in soldier coats. I'll offer you for dollars nine, Throw in the cap and stripes so fine For two five dollar notes." He found the Freshman, brought him in, And sold the coat (it was no sin !) For double the price he paid. He pleased the youth and made him vain, And seemed to have no thoughts of gain — The Freshman was not afraid. Now, vanity did the poor lad blind, Though many defects were easy to find, He saw not one, nor any fault found. The pretty blue coat and buttons of brass, The stripes of red, all had, alas ! His head completely turned 'round. And glorious visions militaire, Visions of such castles in the air As Freshmen often build, Made him regardless of his cash, Caused him to be a little rash; Alas, he'd never drilled ! — Max. i5o CORNELL VERSE. FALLEN LEAVES. '"THE summer's smiles had passed away, The summer's suns had gone to rest, The early autumn, brown and gray, Had breathed o'er hills thro' night and day A loving incense heavenly blest. The trees so lately green and fair As silent watchers now do stand. No more the birds do gather there To seek protecting friends — now bare Of all those blessings — nature's hand: — But lonely still the sent'nels stand. The whispering breezes come and go With sighing for the by-gone days, Thro' leafless branches to and fro Where birdling-notes so sweet and low Sang out the songs of summer days. The brook that 'neath the summer sun Did sparkle 'long its shadowy way, Now as wanderer, hushed and dumb, Counting all days as but one, Faintly smiles and seems to say, " Spring will come again some day." — Aloha. A T NIGHT. 151 AT NIGHT. r* OOD-NIGHT ! those simple words that fall So often from our careless lips — And yet they hold a charm for all; Our dream into the future dips Finding a fair land of delight — Good-night ! How soft is the " good-night " said, Some summer eve of joyous June ! Low droops the maiden's rose-crowned head: " Good-night — but must you go so soon ? " Oh, golden hour ! Oh, love's delight ! Good-night ! We vSay good-night to the little ones Whose trustful eyes have tired grown; Ah, dimpled daughters ! Darling sons ! How tender is the wistful tone That wishes all your future bright ! Good-night ! Then, faintly breathed, the last "good- night,' That comes before the dreamless sleep; It falls upon us like the blight Of cruel frost. Alone we weep For vanished love and lost delight. Good-night ! 152 CORNELL VERSE. Courage ! dear heart, the day is brief — Soon to us comes an evening hour In which we say " good-night " to grief, And threatening clouds no longer lower. All glorious is the sunset's light ! Good-night ! — May Preston, MY LANDLADY'S BILL. CHE brought in her bill— ^ " This bill must be paid !" I could pay it, but still (I explained) I could ill Break a date I had made, She brought in her Bill; Her bill was soon paid. TO MY LANDLADY. (After Rudyard Kipling.) T HAVE eaten your beans and your prunes, I have chewed your sausage and hash, With a fiendish swoop I have swallowed your soup, And potatoes that would not mash. Was there aught that I did not swipe Of pickles, or fruit, or cheese ? One piece of cake that I did not fake, One olive I did not seize ? THE ITHACA GIRL. I gave you a check on the bank, Yet you seemed convulsed with mirth, And my trunk you held with a wisdom of eld, For you knew what the check was worth. 153 THE ITHACA GIRL. /^\H! the Ithaca girl is a gay young girl, Oh! a gay young girl is she; She loves a dance, or a play, or a drive, Any kind of a jamboree. 'Tis ever thus in a college town; Oh! the girls they will be gay; For the students are such fly young men, Such fly young men are they. Now the Ithaca girl is a joyous girl Till the winter term's begun, For all the fall her student boy Blows much of his father's mon. But alack! and alas! for the Ithaca girl, In the winter she's thrown down; For her slippery boy to the Junior Ball Takes a girl from out of town. C AID a man who was doing Cornell, " I'll walk through this beautiful dell, But a small piece of ice His foot did entice, And now he is walking in — Owego. 154 CORNELL VERSE. SPRING. MOW bright for me the days have dawned, And gay my heart doth leap, My worry's o'er, and in the night Most peacefully I sleep. For on the patches in my pants No mortal eye shall frowm, They will be fully hidden when I wear the cap and gown. NATURALLY. T^HERE was a man in our town, And this man's name was Ben; lie once picked up a red hot iron And laid it down again. OUT OF SIGHT. CHE shed a tear upon his vest, The effort made her wince; The vest was made of flannel And he hasn't seen it since. REGRET. I N days gone by at old Cornell I was a jolly wight; The hops and gay cotillion were My pleasure and delight; FAILURE. 155 To dance at all times was my joy, But best I liked of all To trip the " light fantastic " at The dear old Junior Ball. Ah me ! those happy days are gone, My college joys are o'er; But still at night, with measured .step I promenade the floor; And deep regret for Auld Lang Syne Steals o'er me like a pall, When, in the stillness of the night, I hear my "junior " bawl. FAILURE. J CANNOT draw her earnest, smiling face; Its fair and fleet, inimitable grace Eludes my very grasp, whene'er I try, And to my watching, disappointed eye There shines a mocking burlesque in its place. Again I try, but yet behold no trace Of her within it, so again efface My work and echo softly, with a sigh, " I cannot draw ! " So near it seems ! And yet flees apace, Beyond my grasp. And just as in the chase The game we want will all our snares defy, So here must I confess resignedly That elusive queen to match my brace I cannot draw. 156 CORNELL VERSE. C AID an innocent looking veal TI, As slowly it heaved a big f, If only they N That this veal once did M The boarders it would horri-4> C AID the turkey to the spoon 4 ' I wish that I could hide, For, though I'm dressed quite ' a. la mode,' My dressing is inside." D 1 QUERY. |ID you ever notice this: When a fellow steals a kiss From a righteous little maiden, calm and meek. How her scriptural training shows In not turning up her nose, But in simply turning round the other cheek? BROKEN UP. t 4 \ A/ ERE you calm and collected at Bull Run P' 1 Asked a maiden of Captain Moran; M Yes, exceedingly calm, I assure you," Replied the gallant old man. " But with an ear buried under a hay-stack, And a leg just over the wall, And an arm in the hands of the enemy, I wasn't collected at all." STRANGE, BUT TRUE. 157 RATHER. DRONE on his back he lay in the gutter, Inch-deep flowing with recent rain, And the " cop " that " pulled " him heard him mutter, " She's put damp sheets on the bed again." STRANGE, BUT TRUE. LJE'D never seen a football game, Nor ever baseball played. He'd never been to Casey's, Nor joined a " gown " parade. He'd never gone to Renwick, Nor spent a single dime For fare upon the motor car To save that awful climb. He'd never seen the coat room Of our spacious library, Nor crossed the sacred threshold Of our little Y. M. C. He'd never joined a Curtis Club, Nor seen a co-ed fair, And never heard the glorious chimes Ring out upon the air. He often crossed the campus, Yet he never saw a sign, For, you see, he graduated With the class of sixty-nine. 158 CORNELL VERSE. TABLE D'HOTE. \A/E were gathered round the table; Not a soul had dared to speak, Though pie was burned and milk was turned, And tea was passing weak. Thus in silence we were sitting, Thinking sadly of our ills, But not making any protest, For we hadn't paid our bills. THE MODERN VERSION. \A/ITHIN the parlor dark they sit Where they have been since set of sun, Two souls with but one easy chair, Two hearts that beat as one. ALSO IN THE MORNING AND EVENING. fOW doth the Master of the Chimes Improve each noon-day hour? By grinding out the same old tunes While safe within the tower. H< ALAS. J SWORE to her that nothing e'er Should tear me from her side; But as I spoke, the hammock broke, And then she knew I lied. — /. E. Goodman. GOLF ON CASCADILLA FIELD. 159 MIXED. ' T^IS not amiss to kiss a miss, But 'tis a miss to kiss amiss — As for a miss to kiss a miss — Far more amiss to miss a kiss. -/ C, '97, N ] GOLF ON CASCADILLA FIELD. [EW game, Great snap, Hit ball Little tap. Follow up As before — Fewest strokes, Largest score. Ball smaller Than supposed, Strike hard, Hit toes ! Try again, Missed s'more, Cussed hard ! Shins sore. Sworn off, Lost cause, No cinch, Thought 'twas. — Lee Barker Walton. 160 CORNELL VERSE. GOOD EYE. t 6 DUT look at me," the young man said, D "And at thy side I'll be; For thy black eyes the power have To draw all men to thee." Just then he stepped right off a cliff To certain death below, She looked at him, and back he came; His words were really so. -H.\ > 99 . DISAPPOINTMENT. LI E knew that I would like to go, He knew it — never fear; How often have I told him so And wished the Senior Ball were here. At length the Senior Ball is nigh; To-day his letter came; To read it almost makes me cry — It bears my sister's name. m Zj&.\J-f ■*■■<' '• V^T* *T>S, *"25C4 v ■: • 534 ■ >*SB ! \ l ja ^m 514671 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Lxl^^^t.*J^^4ls 'JOw&rW^Wkr- hmksm K§£^ gs^T^a^