a thought of trip or fumbling,
When to the din of tooting tin a crowd on him came tumbling.
I felt a chill, my heart stood still, when those mean boys fell down on
him,
His clothes were torn, his nose cap gone, and streaks of black and brown
on him.

He scored a touchdown then, and such a frenzy I did never see;
It made the umpire's whistle dumb, and overwhelmed the referee.
Then when he punted out in front, though hoarse with loud admiring,
I with, delight yelled, "He's all right!" for they were all inquiring.

The game was won, and we'd begun to cheer each man respectively;
We rah! rah! rahed! and blew horns hard, and shook our flags
effectively;
His eyes shone bright, as left and right they called to him vivaciously;
I my disdain recalled with pain, and waved my banner graciously.

Now let him miss the German quiz, and fail to pass astronomy,
To football lore what's physics or political economy?
To have him bow is rapture now, to be o'erlooked adversity;
To catch his smile is worth the while attending University.

HENRIETTA L. STADTMULLER.
_Sequoia_.

~Drinking Song.~

Let sparkling wine o'erbrim the glass,
And kiss its lips in haste to fly;
But though it would to glory pass,
It is not eager as am I.
I fain would drain the utmost drop,
And leave the beaker's hollow bare,
For when I turn its foot atop,
I see my true love's image there.

Each bubble of the dancing wine
Symbols a love-kiss softly given,
And rising upward is a sign
That earth hath joys to equal heaven.
Ah! were the cup a league in rim,
And deep as is the ocean's blue,
I'd hold its girth were all too slim
And wine of kisses thrice too few.

B.A. GOULD, JR.
_Harvard Lampoon_.

~Sour Valentines.~

To-morrow is the day for valentines;
Then let me leave my thesis for a space,
Lower the lamplight on these weary lines,
And dream a little in the shadowed place.
In my three years at college, I have named
My Valentine and kept the season thrice;
The jolly saint himself is to be blamed
If I have never had the same one twice.

In Freshman days, with all about me strange,
And home's sweet halo shining on my way,
My heart had never known the sense of change,
And one dear face was with me day by day;
So, when the time was here, I wrote my verse
And drew the heart and arrow up above,
And, happy in the thought I might do worse,
I sent it off to Mother with my love.

When I had felt the thrill of Sophomor