And many a sigh it smothers.

Then ho for the blood of youth, say I,
And the mad, glad hopes it bringeth;
For the palsied step of Age draws nigh,--
"_Sans_ hope, _sans_ joy!" he singeth.

A. K. LANE.
_Tuftonian_.

~A Ballade of College Girls.~

What do the dear girls learn nowadays,
At all the colleges where they go?
They've no cane-rushes nor football frays;
Whence can their wealth of wisdom flow?
Up at Wellesley they learn to row;
Gowns and mortar-boards there are swell;
They flirt in the shades of "Tupelo":
I have been there,--but I won't tell!

The Smith girls had the dramatic craze,
And even the critics puffed their show;
The Amherst men are loud in their praise;
They diet on pickled limes and Poe.
At good Mount Holyoke, which some deem slow,
They learn to cook and to sweep as well;
Along with their Greek they're taught to sew:
I have been there,--but I won't tell!

Cornell's "co-eds" have flattering ways;
Many a soul they have filled with woe;
Up at Vassar they're prone to stays,
And no girl there can have a beau;
All those beautiful blooms must throw
Their sweetness away where no man may dwell;
Rules can be cheated, sometimes, though:
I have been there,--but I won't tell!

ENVOY.

Girls, the Blue and the Crimson know
How a tryst is kept after bedtime bell.
"Hush-sh," you whisper, "be cautious!" Oh,
I have been there,--but I won't tell!

F.R. BATCHELDER.
_Harvard Lampoon._

~Ballade of the Alumna.~

How sadly in these latter days,
In search of memories bitter-sweet,
We tread the once-accustomed ways
With step grown slow, and lagging feet,--
Timed to the pulse's slower beat,--
And climb the stair and reach the floor,
To find--alas! how time is fleet!
Another's name is on the door!

We timid knock, and beg to gaze
On all once ours--are shown a seat,
O irony! In sad amaze
We marvel that it looks so neat,
Recalling how we used to meet
At gruesome hours in days of yore,--
Hours that fate can ne'er repeat:
Another's name is on the door.

Our ready chaff, our wordy frays,
Conviction backed by young conceit,
Have left no echoes; nothing stays
To mark how once we "led the street;"
But others come with youthful heat,
Nor reck of those who came before,
And play their part--their years complete;--
Another's name is on the door.

ENVOY.

Freshmen, our age with reverence greet,
And warning take, though grieved sore,
No words d