LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. k* I ChapT.e.?.-.. Copyright No. mt UiSlTED STATES OF AMERICA. WITH PIPE AND BOOK CARPE DIEM In college verse y in equal share y Love^ fun and wine are everywhere ; Here walks with shaking sides the downy And here, in solemn cap and gowny Cupid usurps the teacher"* s chair ; And every maid is debonair y And motley is the only weary Gambrinus* wreath the only crown. In college verse. Ahy bright the jiowers that blossom there ; Ahy light the hours and free from care ; Banished the sigh, forgot the frown y The restless ghosts that will not down ; And youth is gay, and life is fairy In college verse. James Weber Linn With Pipe and Book A Collection of . . . College Verse Chosen by- Joseph Le Roy Harrison Editor of ** Cap and Goivn " "The philosophy of life's afternoon is a poor exchange for the poetry of its morning " C. T. WINCHESTER Preston and Rounds Company Providence • • • Mdcccxcvii j^TSjW^ Copyright, 1897, By Preston and Rounds Company. To Col. Timothy Shaler Williams COLLEGE PAPERS REPRESENTED Amherst College . Boston College . . . . Brown University . Columbia University . Cornell University . Dartmouth College Hamilton College , Harvard University Lehigh University . Leland Stanford Jr. Univ. . Mount Holyoke College . Notre Dame University . Princeton University . Smith College . . . . Trinity College . . . . University of Chicago . . University of Michigan University of Minnesota . University of Pennsylvania. Amherst Literary Monthly. Amherst Student. Stylus. Brown Magazine. Brunonian. Columbia Literary Monthly. Cornell Era. Cornell Magazine. Dartmouth Literary Monthly. Hamilton Literary Monthly. Harvard Advocate. Lehigh Burr. Sequoia. Mount Holyoke. Notre Dame Scholastic. Nassau Literary Monthly. Princeton Tiger. Smith College Monthly. Trinity Tablet. University of Chicago Weekly. Inlander. Minnesota Magazine. Red and Blue. College Papers Represented University of Rochester University of Tennessee . University of Vermont University of Virginia . University of Wisconsin . Vassar College .... Washington and Lee Univ. Wellesley College . . . Wesleyan University . Williams College . Yale University Campus. Tennessee Univ. Magazine. University Cynic. Univ. of Virginia Magazine. Wisconsin .^gis. Vassar Miscellany. Southern Collegian. Wellesley Magazine. Wesleyan Literary Monthly. Williams Athenaeum. Williams Literary Monthly. Yale Courant. Yale Literary Magazine. Yale Record. CONTENTS April Yale Literary Magazine, 52 At Sweet Sixteen . . Tennessee Univ. Magazine, 52 At the Sea . . . . Red and Blue, 1 1 5 Ballade of a Kiss, The Ballad of Dorothy, A Banquet Song . Bashful Johnny Boccherini's Minuet Carpe Diem Cheer .... Chivalry Christmas Morning Cloudland . Colin' s CaU . . Comin' thro' the Rye Coquette, A Crocuses, The . "Crux Fidelis" . Die Weinstube . Di's Smile . . . Doris's Shoestrings . Dorothy Dream Song Drinking Song . Fairyland .... Fayre Ladye Lalage First Snowstorm, The Harvard Advocate, 113 Williams Literary Monthly, 36 Dartmouth Literary Monthly, 144 Williams Literary Monthly, 33 Williams Athenaeum, 40 Univ. of Chicago Weekly, 2 Brown Magazine, 120 Yale Literary Magazine, 62 Yale Courant, 117 Columbia Literary Monthly, 136 Red and Blue, 44 Yale Record, 30 Brunonian, 1 5 Wellesley Magazine, 71 Harvard Advocate, 135 Yale Courant, 56 Amherst Student, 139 Vassar Miscellany, 146 Yale Courant, 58 Smith College Monthly, 94 Brown Magazine, 24 Wellesley Magazine, 59 Harvard Advocate, 103 Vassar Miscellany, 78 Contents Free Nassau Literary Monthly, 19 Free Lances . . . Harvard Advocate, 67 Fool's Ballad . . . Yale Courant, 145 Glee Club Concert, The. Univ. of Chicago Weekly, 66 Heliotrope .... Harvard Advocate, io8 Her Light Guitar . . Amherst Literary Monthly, 148 Humble Romance, A . Vassar Miscellany, 53 I Dream of Thee . . Univ. of Chicago Weekly, 109 If I but knew . . . Stylus, 5 5 Immer Mehr . . . Harvard Advocate, 88 In Cap and Bells . . Harvard Advocate, 105 Influence .... Southern Collegian, 20 In Modern Times . . Amherst Literary Monthly, 107 In the Dark . . . Williams Literary Monthly, 61 In the Jim Valley . . Minnesota Magazine, 41 In the Pines . . . Vassar Miscellany, 18 Jacqueminot . . . Wesleyan Literary Monthly, 99 Jock and Jenny . . Yale Courant, 76 Late Wisconsin -^gis, 119 Letting down the Bars . Red and Blue, loi Lines Cornell Era, 129 Little Bird, A . . . Smith College Monthly, 22 Little Blind Beggar, The . Smith College Monthly, 128 "Little Dan Cupid " . Vassar Miscellany, 25 Lost Love .... Lehigh Burr, 92 Love's Origin . . . Brunonian, 70 Lullaby Wellesley Magazine, 34 Lullaby Wellesley Magazine, 86 Mabel Red and Blue, 65 Manoa Brown Magazine, 126 May Song, A . . . Univ. of Chicago Weekly, 98 Midsummer Night's Dream, A . . . Mount Holyoke, 131 Misunderstanding, A . Wellesley Magazine, 69 10 Contents Month of Magic, The . Wesleyan Literary Monthly, 23 My Hounds . . . Vassar Miscellany, 89 My Lady in the Garden. Dartmouth Literary Monthly, 125 My Lady Nicotine . . Columbia Literary Monthly, 84 My Old Guitar . . Yale Record, 75 My Pipe .... Lehigh Burr, 48 My Quest .... Trinity Tablet, 114 Night Wind's Song, The . Inlander, 85 Nineteenth Century, The . Williams Literary Monthly, 64 Now and Then . . Trinity Tablet, 106 Oh, for the storm-scarred headlands . . Harvard Advocate, 51 Old Love Song, The . Campus, 137 On the Retired List . Princeton Tiger, 38 Polly, my Sweetheart . Inlander, 72 ** Poor Cupid froze his wings one day " . Wellesley Magazine, 39 Prom. Roses . , . Yale Record, 91 Ring-doves and Roses . Yale Courant, 50 Rondeau .... Smith College Monthly, 68 Rondeau : With Pipe and Book . . . Yale Courant, 1 3 Saint Nicholas — His Roundelay . . . Yale Courant, 28 Serenade .... Williams Literary Monthly, 1 1 2 Since Agnes died . . Brown Magazine, 27 Skating Song, A . . Nassau Literary Monthly, 121 Slumber Song . . . University Cynic, 1 3 1 Song Red and Blue, 10 1 Song Williams Literary Monthly, 73 Song, A . . . . Nassau Literary Monthly, 134 Song of Joy, A . . Univ. of Chicago Weekly, 14 Song of Mistress Anne, A . Williams Literary Monthly, 17 Song of Return . . Univ. of Chicago Weekly, 90 Song of the Jolly Fat Friar, The . . . Harvard Advocate, 80 II Contents Song of the Sea Flight . Amherst Literary Monthly, 97 So runs the World . . Vassar Miscellany, 3 5 Southern .... Cornell Era, 148 Star of Bethlehem, The . Vassar Miscellany, 93 Stolen Glance, A . . Brunonian, 139 Suppose Wellesley Magazine, 80 Sword Song . . . Hamilton Literary Monthly, 109 Tardy-bug Men, The . Three Points of View . To a Friend in Love . To a Girl on a Greek Frieze .... To a Miniature To a Spray of Violets . To the Valley of Dreams. Triolet Twilight Song . . . Twilight Song . . . Minnesota Magazine, 141 Notre Dame Scholastic, 123 Wesleyan Argus, 47 Wesleyan Argus, 46 Vassar Miscellany, 21 Red and Blue, 104 Notre Dame Scholastic, 150 Sequoia, 60 Vassar Miscellany, 63 Yale Courant, 118 Upon her Mandolin . Harvard Advocate, 78 Valentine, A . . . Williams Literary Monthly, 82 Brunonian, 143 Cornell Era, 83 Cornell Magazine, 140 Univ. of Virginia Magazine, 124 Yale Literary Magazine, 133 University Cynic, 1 1 1 Yale Courant, 95 Yale Courant, 87 Yale Courant, 45 Univ. of Virginia Magazine, 96 When chime the Bells. When Love was born . When Morning breaks. When Stars come out . "When the last light, dim and still " . When the Tide is low . Where Cupid dwells . Where Love dwells With Jenny in the Rain, Woodland Whispers . Ye Golde-headed Cane. Wesleyan Literary Monthly, 3 1 Yesterday .... Southern Collegian, 119 12 With Pipe and Book RONDEAU W^ 'ITH pipe and book, an old arm-chair, A glowing hearth, what need I care For empty honors, wealth or fame ? Grant me but this ; an honest name, A cup of ale, a coat to wear. And then, while smoke-wreaths rift the air. The banquet of the gods I share. Content to sit before the flame With pipe and book. Above the city's noisy glare. Yet sweet, tho' humble, is my fare ; For changing not from praise to blame. These faithful friends are still the same — No earthly comforts can compare With pipe and book. CHARLES E. MERRILL, JR. 13 With Pipe and Book A SONG OF JOY Sing songs of gladness Merry and gay. Mad with the madness Of life's roundelay; Lays turned to lightness Sweet as the day. Full of the brightness Of love's holiday. II Sing songs of gladness Joyous and free. Scatter life's sadness Mid jolHty; Make music's measure Rolic and ring. Pent with the pleasure Of youth and the spring. Sing songs of gladness Merry with mirth, 14 A Collection of College Verse Laugh away sadness. Gladden the earth ; Burst out in singing. Sing all the day, — 'Ere life may be bringing Death to thy play. CHARLES SUMNER PIKE. A COQUETTE Oh, I see where you're sitting. Out there with your knitting ; You thought you were hid by the trunk of the tree. But, Kitty, believe me. You cannot deceive me, I'd find you wherever you happened to be. Chorus : Then ^ tis come to me, Kitty y If s you that looks pretty y With your neat little feet and your trim little waist, 15 With Pipe and Book So don^ t be so simple. But bring me that dimple. And give your own Barney a bit of a taste. How your needles are flying. As with them you're tying And looping away at your bright worsted thread ; And it's little you're caring If in it you're snaring The heart of a lover you never would wed. Chorus ; Then if s come to me, Kitty, etc. Though your fingers are dancing, I see that your' re glancing Aside at me here through the tail of your eye. Then why should you wait, now. But come to the gate, now. And give me a kiss while I bid you good-bye. Chorus : Then it's come to me, Kitty, etc, HENRY MORGAN STONE. i6 A Collection of College Verse A SONG OF MISTRESS ANNE In farthingale and satin gown. Sing hey, my lady ! Comes Mistress Anne from London-town To Dingledale on Crosswood Down When country lanes are shady ! Blue are her eyes as June-tide skies. Sing hey, my lady ! June's sunshine in her soft hair lies. Oh, who will win her beauty's prize When country lanes are shady ? She lays aside her satin gown. Sing hey, my lady ! And dons a frock o' russet brown. To pluck dog-roses on the Down When country lanes are shady! O rustic swains, who find her fair. Sing hey, my lady ! Trust not her simple artless air. Unless, perchance, she flout you there Where country lanes are shady ! ARTHUR KETCHUM. 17 With Pipe and Book IN THE PINES There were three of us — Cupid went with us, you know. Dear blindfolded boy, who is never de trop. And the words left unsaid the soft winds whis- pered low. In the pines. A small gift she gave me — though blind, it is true. From the way that he laughed I am sure Cupid knew. And the asters and goldenrod, they saw it too. And the pines. Then the shadows grew dark in the wood's tangled growth. And homeward we turned in the twilight, half loath. And Love walked between with an arm around both. Through the pines. JULIET WILBUR TOMPKINS. i8 A Collection of College Verse FREE Loosed are the bonds that held my soul. And afar on the leaping bay I steer with the North Star for my goal. At the close of the autumn day. Then hey ! for the rush of the cutting prow And the thrill of a wild delight — Where the bell-buoy swings as the sea-gull clings I gloom thro' the wave-born night. I was clamped by a horror beyond all name, A plaything to bless or to ban. Till the spirit within me surged in flame And I knew I was yet a man. Then hey ! for the great brown wing I love. The swoop of the sail in the breeze. For the jarring sound of the past is drowned 'Mid the clash of the tumbling seas. The will has won in a life's revolt — A weird voice bids me forth — 19 With Pipe and Book And keen as the stabbing thunderbolt I haste toward the mystic north. Then hey ! for the whirlwind, headlong, grim. And hey ! for the ice-king's glee. Thro' zephyr and gale alike I sail — Unfettered and fierce and free. DAVID POTTER. INFLUENCE I WONDER if ever a wave ebbs out but it breaks on a distant shore. Or fall any tears But the faces of years Are stained thro' the Evermore ? I wonder if ever a day is born or an evening to twilight steals. But they leave a mark Thro' the gathering dark In the print of their golden wheels ? 20 A Collection of College Verse I wonder if ever a word is said or ever a song is sung. But their souls live on When their sounds are gone — In the Palace of Silence hung ? I wonder if ever a life is lived but its being gives sweet to some. But its hands touch still. And its dream-voice will Speak after its lips are dumb ? And so may it be, thou forgotten one, when the cup of thy life is filled. That the world drink up From the shattered cup Whatever and all that is spilled. WILLIAM H. FIELD, TO A MINIATURE Sweet maid of old, with powdered hair. With face and form forever fair. Such joy was never seen before ; 21 With Pipe and Book Thou' St smiled for fifty years and more. Didst never weep nor feel a care ? Did lovers brave always adore. And noble vows breathe o'er and o'er ? Such homage now indeed is rare. Sweet maid of old. Art never weary sitting there In the old-fashioned, high-back chair ? Tell me, dear maiden, I implore. Did blessings ever on thee pour. And was the whole world, like thee, fair. Sweet maid of old ? MARIE REIMER. A LITTLE BIRD A LITTLE bird in a tree Made one — a man and maiden three. 'Twas not by chance that they had met ! ** None see," they said ; one can forget A litde bird. A Collection of College Verse A long hot road, a strip of grass, 'Twould tempt the Fates to let it pass ! Two people linger in the walk ; There's only one to hear them talk, A little bird. Long shadows stretched across the sky. Two people parted with a sigh. But there was no one there to see ! How do I know ? and who told me ? A little bird. E. R. C. THE MONTH OF MAGIC When the bee, that idle skipper. Steers his shallop down the breeze ; Launching from the lady's slipper. Anchoring in the Hlac trees, — When the marsh-bird's ditty amorous (Where the indian- turnip grows) Mingles with the paean clamorous From the black heart of the crows, - When the breath of roses lingers Like an incense in the sky, — 23 With Pipe and Book When the odor of syringas Tempts the vagrant butterfly, — When the moth, a knavish fellow. Steals the coins of gold that shine In the cowslip's purse of yellow. Sacks and robs the lily's shrine, — When the ether throbs with question — Intimation — whispered prayer — Orioles, full of sly suggestion. Drop a hint down through the air, — Tbe;i by some strange necromancy Sad old Earth is set to tune ; Would you know the cause ? / fancy Heaven is keeping tryst with June. FREDERIC LAWRENCE KNOWLES. DRINKING SONG Ring from the rim of the glass, boys, Ripples of tinkling tones. Drink to the heyday of youth, boys. Mindless of after moans. 24 A Collection of College Verse Over the rim of the glass, boys. Gaze into eyes that are bright. Drink with each sip of the wine, boys. Passionate gleams of delight. Sing to the rim of the glass, boys. Chorus wherever we roam. Drink to the sparkling-eyed depths, boys, A love as light as its foam. Kiss the rim of the glass, 'boys. Blind to its siren-gleam. Drink to its shading depths, boys. The wav'ring forms of a dream. Then ring from the rim of the glass, boys. Ripples of tinkling tones. Drink to the heyday of youth, boys. Mindless of after-moans. JOHN CLINTON ANTHONY. "LITTLE DAN CUPID" Little Dan Cupid stole down on a sunbeam. To get of this old earth a peep. 25 With Pipe and Book He was tired of play with toy hearts and blunt arrows. And his good mother Love was asleep. Little Dan Cupid rode home on the moon-ray. And bore to his mother as trophies of might Two human hearts, pierced and bleeding, en- folded In a bit of the gray mist that shrouded the night. <*Ah, naughty Dan Cupid!" Love cried; her tears falling Were like the sweet dropping of soft April rain ; " Knewest thou not that in all the wide heaven No healing is found for Love's wounds or Love's pain ? " The pitying All-Mother took to her bosom The poor beating things by Dan Cupid un- done. ** At least, ye may bear it together," she mur- mured. And tenderly kissed the two souls into one. AMY LOUISE REED. 26 A Collection of College Verse SINCE AGNES DIED They say that the brook makes music soft As ever in its pebbly bed. That the leaves still whisper sv^eet aloft In springtime when the robins wed. Well, yes, they may — I cannot say — Since Agnes died. They say the sunshine still is fair. That the summer air is still as sweet. When soft the breeze sighs everywhere In autumn, ere the long days fleet. Perhaps 'tis so — I do not know — Since Agnes died. They say that gladness is not dead. That the future smiles, and life is gay. That joy and hope have not all fled. That comfort has not passed away. It may be — well — I cannot tell — Since Agnes died. ALBERT ELLSWORTH THOMAS. 27 With Pipe and Book SAINT NICHOLAS — HIS ROUNDELAY On Christmas eve You would scarce believe How early the sand-man came a-creeping ; By the way each head Went into the bed When prayers were said You'd have thought them sleeping. (You would really have thought the children sleeping.) Sing Fol- de-rol- do I- diddle- lol- day. Saint Nicholas — his roundelay. Old Saint Nick With his usual trick Came upon the roof with a terrible clatter ; And Dolly and Sue, And Polly and Prue, And Jonathan too. Knew what was the matter. (But of course they didn't wake up at the clatter.) Sing Fol- de- rol- do I- diddle- lol- day. Saint Nicholas — his roundelay. 28 A Collection of College Verse Little Miss Polly Dreamed of a dolly. Hung by the wrist to a Christmas tree. And a candy boar. With an echoing roar. From the e-qua-tor To the frozen sea. (An astonishing boar, 'twixt you and me.) Sing Fol- de- rol- do I- diddle- lol- day. Saint Nicholas — his roundelay. Jonathan's fox And his Jack-in-the-box, Would beat Sam Joneses all to nuthin*. Last Christmas he Had no monkey Made beautifully. With sawdust stuffin. ( Oh, Sam Jones, he didn' t 'mount to nuthin' . ) Sing Fol- de- rol- do I- diddle- lol- day. Saint Nicholas — his roundelay. Ah, Christmas Day ! The old folks say. They sleep through the night and it doesn't matter ; 29 With Pipe and Book For Dolly and Sue, And Polly and Prue, And Jonathan too. Make up for the clatter Of Nick in the night, that's the truth of the matter. Sing Fol- de- rol- do I- diddle- lol- dayy Saint Nicholas — his roundelay. ROBERT L. MUNGER. COMIN' THRO' THE RYE A DAINTY little maiden Came a-tripping through the rye. An airy bit of womanhood. With laughter in her eye. A jaunty little lassy. With a little coy way. As merrily she tripped along To that natty Scottish lay: ** Gin a-body meet a-body Conmi* thro* the rye. Gin a-body kiss a-body Need a-body cry ?'^ 30 A Collection of College Verse A brawny, Scottish laddie Was a-working in the rye ; A brawny, fearless fellow. But a trifle bit too shy. A bashful, blushing laddie. At that coy maiden's dare. As merrily she tripped along To that natty Scottish air. H. H. TOWNSEND. YE GOLDE-HEADED CANE It stands in the corner yet, stately and tall. With a top that once shone like the sun ; It whispers of musterfield, playhouse and ball. Of gallantries, courtship and fun. It is hardly the stick for the dude of to-day. He would swear it was ** deucedly plain," But the halos of memory crown its decay — My grandfather's gold-headed cane. It could tell how a face in a circling calash Grew red as the poppies she wore, 31 With Pipe and Book When a dandy stepped up with a swagger and dash And escorted her home to her door. How the beaux cried with jealousy, **Jove ! what a buck ! " As they glared at the fortunate swain. And the wand which appeared to have fetched him his luck — My grandfather's gold-headed cane. It could tell of the rides in the grand yellow gig When, from under a broad scuttle hat. The eyes of fair Polly were lustrous and big. And — but no ! would it dare tell of that ? Ah me ! by those wiles that bespoke the coquette How many a suitor was slain ! There was one though who conquered the foe when they met With the gleam of his gold-headed cane. Oh the odors of lavender, lilac and musk! They scent these old halls even yet ; I can still see the dancers as down through the dusk They glide in the grave minuet. 32 A Collection of College Verse The small satin slippers, my grandmamma's pride. Long, long in the chest have they Iain ; Let us shake out the camphor and place them beside My grandfather's gold-headed cane. FREDERIC LAWRENCE KNOWLES. BASHFUL JOHNNY Young bashful Johnny loved sweet May, And went to court her every day. But yet his tongue could never swear He loved her true. It seems to me had I been there I'd vowed my love — now wouldn't you ? Sweet May would sit by Johnny's side. And all her thoughts to him confide. Yet take her hand he'd never dare — So near his, too — It seems to me had I been there I'd clasped it tight — now wouldn't you ? 33 With Pipe and Book And May's red lips seemed to invite Sweet kisses ; but so bold a flight He thought — yet wondered if she'd care — Would never do. It seems to me had I been there I would have kissed her — wouldn't you ? GEORGE W. GILLETTE. LULLABY Breezes in the tree-tops high. Sighing sofdy as you blow. Sing a restful lullaby ; Sing the sweetest song you know. Something slow, something lowj - Lulla-lullaby. Barley heads and crested wheat. Swaying gendy to and fro. Sing the music of the heat. Sing the drowsiest song you know. Something slow, something low, Lulla-lullaby. 34 A Collection of College Verse Brooklet hidden in the grass. Murmuring faintly as you flow. Sing a sleep song while you pass ; Sing the dreamiest song you know. Something slow, something low, — Lulla-lullaby. EMILY S. JOHNSON. SO RUNS THE WORLD Many a day, many a day, A stalwart knight on a charger gray Galloped along the king's highway. Never he stopped at the garden gate. Never he looked through the iron grate. But ever he whispered, **'Tis late, 'tis late, I seek for my princess, I cannot wait." (So runs the world, my dear.) Many a day, many a day. In the garden close by the king's highway A lady sat spinning her bridal array. Never she thought of the garden gate. Never she stopped to look through the grate, 35 With Pipe and Book But ever she whispered, ** 'Tis late, 'tis late. My prince is coming, I cannot wait.'* (So runs the world, my dear.) The roses beckoned over the wall. The roadside birds never ceased to call. The winds in passing told it all, — " She is here, she is here ; " But the prince rode into the world away. And the princess spun her bridal array. Till youth was ended and life was gray. (So runs the world, my dear.) FANNY L. MCKINNEY A BALLAD OF DOROTHY It's ** Dorothy ! where' s Dorothy? From morn to even fall. There's not a lad on Cowslip Farm Who joins not in the call. It's Dolly here and Dolly there. Where can the maiden be ? No wench in all our country-side's So fine as Dorothy. 36 A Collection of College Verse With tucked-up gown and shining pail Before the day is bright, Down dewy lanes she singing goes Among the hawthorns white. Perchance, her roses need her care She tends them faithfully. There's not a rose in all the world As fresh and sweet as she ! With morning sunshine in her hair A-churning Dolly stands. Oh, happy churn ! I envy it. Held close between her hands ; And when the crescent moon hangs bright Athwart the soft night sky, Down shadowed paths we strolling go. Just Dorothy and I. As true of heart, as sweet of face. With gay and girlish air. The painted belles of citydom Are not a whit as fair. Come Michaelmas the parish chimes Will ring out merrily. 37 With Pipe and Book Who is the bride I lead to church ? Why, who but Dorothy ? ARTHUR KETCHUM. ON THE RETIRED LIST Vet' RAN dress-coat ! You've gone astray. Yes, you, old soldier, worn and gray. But ah ! High pride must have its falls ; You will get tight ; the habit galls. So you're retired — laid away. Yet you've faced powder, blithe and gay. The *' awful charge," the trumpet's bray ; You've known the hum of whirling balls. Vet' ran dress-coat. Our fight is done. In deadly fray We seized her heart. Though heroes lay Within the breach, we stormed the walls. And hung our banners in those halls ; By conquering **arms" we won the day. Vet' ran dress-coat ! 38 A Collection of College Verse POOR CUPID FROZE HIS WINGS ONE DAY" Poor Cupid froze his wings one day. When winds were cold and skies were gray. And clouds with snow were laden. A little maid was passing by ; She caught the rogue, — he could not fly, — Oh naughty litde maiden ! She sent him ofF with sharpen' d dart. To steal for her a certain heart ; But, oh the mishap stupid ! Since Cupid's blind, and cannot see. He went astray, and came to me. Oh naughty little Cupid ! So that is why my heart is gone. And I am dreary and forlorn. With tears my eyes are laden. She does not want my heart — ah no 1 I did not wish to have it go ; Oh Cupid, and oh maiden ! GERTRUDE JONES. 39 With Pipe and Book BOCCHERINPS MINUET Out upon the night air steals the music, soft and low. Trembling like a wind-swayed leaflet swinging to and fro ; Ah, the whispered moaning. Ah, the soft intoning. Ah, the dancers, buried long ago ! Louder grows the music now, and now a flick- ering glow Shines upon the ghosdy dancers, moving there below ; Ah, the courtly graces. Ah, the eager faces. Of the dancers, buried long ago ! How the jewels glisten. Diamonds, lustre-robbing \ How the spectres listen To the music, sobbing ! O'er the waxen floor the bowing shadows slowly go ; 40 A Collection of College Verse Then they vanish quickly, as the north wind drives the snow ; Was it only seeming ? Was I only dreaming Of the dancers, buried long ago ? G. A. COPELAND. IN THE JIM VALLEY They're harvestin' the wheat-fields in the valley of the Jim ; I can hear the reapers clatter, soundin' kind of low and dim. See the yello' fields a-wavin', an' the shocks in crooked rows. An' the house an' barn, an' mother out hangin' up the clo'se ; See the cattle and the pastur', an' the ol' gray limpin' mule. An' the yello' heifer standin' in the water keepin' cool ; An' I try to fight agin' it as a sort of silly whim. But I wisht 'at I was back there in the valley of the Jim. 41 With Pipe and Book Now it's fall ; an' they're a thrashin' an' a ploughin' up the ground ; An' the air is sort of hazy, an' the gulls are sailin' 'round ; An' the sun looks kind of yello' in the smoky afternoon ; An' at evenin' you can listen to the thunder's sleepy tune. See the horses comin' home from work, an' smell their sweaty coats. Hear 'em smashin' through the stubble, tired an' hungry for their oats. Now it's growing sort of dusky, an' they're doin' up the chores. An' the kitchen fire is burnin', an' it's chilly out-o' -doors : — I can smell the eggs an' coffee, an' I know my little trim, Lovin' mother's gettin' supper in the valley by the Jim. Onc't I had a older brother in the valley of the Jim; An* he was a homely feller, an' I ust to go with him 42 A Collection of College Verse To the pastur' for the cattle, an* a-fishin', an' around ; An' I mind he ust to carry me acrost the stubble ground. An' we'd often sit a-fishin', on a summer after- noon. By the creek, an' hear the gophers chirp, an' listen to the tune Of the bob-o-link an' black-bird — oh I recol- lect it well ; An' we liked the sleepy water, an' the kind of fishy smell Of the old dry bank, with craw-fish bones an' clam-shells layin' there ; An' we'd hear the dreary singin' of the plover in the air. An' then one day in fall they buried him on father's hill ; 'N I cried all day, an' wished 'at I was laid along of Bill ; Fer it seemed so queer an' lonesome 'thout no brother any more ; — An' now the grass is dyin' there, an' winds are sighin' o'er ; — 43 With Pipe and Book I can hear the sor'f'ul meado' lark a-singin' over him. — O, I wisht 'at I was back there in the valley of the Jim. WILL DILLMAN. COLIN'S CALL Oh ! who will be my true love And put her hand in mine ? Oh ! who will to the alleyed grove And garlands gay entwine ? For her who'll be my true love The fairest flowers I'll find ; The loveliest posies in the grove For her shall all be twined. Oh ! who'll be my true love And wander forth with me To where the clouds float soft above. The primrose dots the lea ? For her who'll be my true love The skies will aye be blue, 44 A Collection of College Verse The meadows always green prove. My heart be ever true. F. T. W. WITH JENNY IN THE RAIN As sad I was as any. With all a lover's pain. Till I walked that day with Jenny — With Jenny in the rain! Past fresh'ning fields of clover And sweet with ripening grain. And blossoms blowing over. With Jenny in the rain! The silken shade above her — The violets at her feet ; The raindrops seemed to love her. And fell in music sweet. And O, the south wind blowing In many a glad refrain. When love and I were going With Jenny in the rain. Each breeze that rippled past her Stole kisses on the way ; 45 With Pipe and Book The rain fell never faster Than beat my heart that day ! And O, the fields of clover. And O, the golden grain ! For love came home — the rover ! With Jenny, in the rain ! FRANK L. STAMON. TO A GIRL ON A GREEK FRIEZE How often have I gazed into thy face. And wished those lips could pulse again v^ith red. Those eyes could answer mine, thy feet could tread The choral dance anew with old-time grace. Thy rounded arms, which now entwine that vase. And poise it high above that perfect head. Could clasp me in their new-found warmth in- stead. Thy heart could join with mine in sweet em- brace. Ah, then we'd leave the noisy, smoky town, 46 A Collection of College Verse And through the fragrant meadows haste away And whispering woods, to some fair sleepy- glade. Where fairies weave the flowers in many a crown. Where all is rest and mirth, where wood-nymphs play. And Pan still pipes beneath the friendly shade. ASHLEY HORACE THORNDIKE. TO A FRIEND IN LOVE In Arcady ! I envy you. Arcadian hillsides never knew A more bewitching shepherdess To take an humble swain's caress ; Ne'er thrilled a shepherd heart more true. Has not each flower a magic hue ? Has not the sky a richer blue ? Is not life sweet — come, now confess. In Arcady ? 47 With Pipe and Book One time I dwelt where now you do. Old friend ; — but loves that last are few — Now since I know your happiness, I'll try my luck again, I guess. For I should like to be there, too. In Arcady. LOUIS JONES MAGEE. MY PIPE Two years old, this httle fellow. Yet he's strong and sweet and mellow. Yesterday, to-day, to-morrow. Always sharing joy and sorrow. Sticking by me like a brother. Soothing far more than a mother. Two years old, and yet quite ripe My little bulldog, brier pipe. Yes, he goes to church on Sunday (Oftentimes to worse on Monday) ; Then, of course, he's under cover. Yet this patient little lover, 48 A Collection of College Verse Grumbling, hateful ways disdaining. Ne'er was known to be complaining. Two years old, yet strong and ripe - My litde bulldog, brier pipe. Over there at Charlie's soaking. Round a social table smoking. Pouring over analytics. Talking football with the critics. Making love to German lasses. Walking 'midst the crowded masses. He is with me strong and ripe. My litde bulldog, brier pipe. Cheer and comfort always lending With his curling smoke ascending ; Never cold and apathetic. Always warm and sympathetic. He and I are single-hearted. He and I have never parted. Yes, I love this strong, this ripe. This litde bulldog, brier pipe. F. S. CAI 49 With Pipe and Book RING-DOVES AND ROSES O Youth and Love and plighted faith. They laugh to scorn the thoughts of death With merry quips and dukes ; While memories of eyes of brown And lids Maid Modesty kissed down. Beat softly in the pulses. And oh ! and aye ! As Time files by. The sweetest chords may twang awry. And song oft sinks to sobbing. But roses die in cheeks so fair. White age steals lighdy through the hair. The scorn of youth defying. And compliment is out of tune. And through the balmy bowers of June The Autumn winds go sighing. And oh ! and aye ! But Youth fiits by, I catch the echo of a sigh Within my heart low throbbing. ■ CHAUNCEY WETMORE WELLS. 50 A Collection of College Verse OH, FOR THE STORM-SCARRED HEADLANDS Oh, for the storm-scarred headlands. The hoarse, unresting seas. The shifting mist and sunshine. The cool, soft eastern breeze ! Oh, to trace the low pine woodlands. Or walk the windy shore. Or feel the muscle tighten Against the straining oar ! Sweeter than harp or sackbut To weary ear and brain. The lapwing's low, wild whistle. The sea-gull's angry skane. Better than books or study On gorse-grown cliffs to lie. And watch the cloud-wrack slowly Climb up the summer sky. Oh, for the blackened headlands. The hoarse, tumultuous seas. The trailing mists and shadows. The strong, salt eastern breeze. A. M. LORD. 51 With Pipe and Book AT SWEET SIXTEEN At sweet sixteen, with roseate hue The blushing morn comes into view. And kisses with surpassing grace The beauty of a maiden's face. O blushing morn, would I were you ! The maiden smiles, with love-light true. Oh, would that love were entre nous. And in her heart I had a place. At sweet sixteen. If she but felt, if she but knew. The love which thus her beauty drew. Then, smiling o'er her happy face, I'd never leave the morn a place To touch those lips, where Cupid flew. At sweet sixteen. N. H. PITMAN. -«- APRIL April, a lovely little maid thou art. Thyself so trustful and so pure in heart. Thine hair of gold for dancing sunbeams meet. Thine eyes of blue and face so dainty sweet 52 A Collection of College Verse Alas, thine eyes are often filled with tears At eve, to gently sob thyself to sleep. Next morn to wake, a happy child that clears Away all cares and sorrows, howe'er deep. Around thy head, a wreath of mayflowers twined. White and sweet pink, thine own cheeks rivalling. Breathing new hope and life in balmy wind Thou comest, cheerful daughter of the spring. Thou bringest joy and peace to all mankind. And all our hearts in love to thee dost bind. JAMES DAWES WILLIAMS. A HUMBLE ROMANCE Her ways were rather frightened, and she wasn't much to see. She wasn't good at small talk or quick at rep- artee. Her gown was somewhat lacking in the proper cut and tone, 53 With Pipe and Book And it wasn't difficult to see she'd made it all alone. So the gay young men whose notice would have filled her with delight Paid very small attention to the litde girl in white. He couldn't talk the theatre, for he hadn't time to go. And, though he knew that hay was high and butter rather low. He couldn't say the airy things that other men rehearse. While his waltzing was so rusty that he didn't dare reverse. The beauties whom he sighed for were most frigidly polite. So perforce he came and sat beside the litde girl in white. She soon forgot her envy of the glittering beau mondey For their common love of horses proved a sym- pathedc bond. She told him all about the farm, and how she came to town, 54 A Collection of College Verse And showed the honest little heart beneath the home-made gown. A humble tale, you say, — and yet he blesses now the night When first he came and sat beside the little girl in white. JULIET WILBUR TOMPKINS. IF I BUT KNEW If I but knew what the tree-tops say. Whispering secrets night and day; If I but knew what the birds on high So sweetly warble beneath Love's sky, I'd make a song For you To sing throughout your whole life long — If I but knew. If I but knew how the lilies brew Nectar rare from a drop of dew; If I but knew what in trellised bowers The night-winds tell to listening flowers, I'd make a song For you, 55 With Pipe and Book And speak of days when Love was strong If I but knew. If I but knew what brook and river Murmur sofdy, murmur ever ; If I but knew a tuneful word. Sweet as the note of a wooing bird. That word I'd sing To you. An answer from your lips to bring — If I but knew. DIE WEINSTUBE The coziest nook That good friends know Is the litde old room at the end of the hall. Wherever you look The maxims show. And there in a row. Good comrades all. Hang seven old tankards on the wall. 56 A Collection of College Verse A good man laughs In a jovial way. Knows never the strength of sorrowful thrall. And vows as he quaffs That a king might pay To dream one day Where the shadows fall Of hfe and love and dear friends all. Sympathy, cheer. And a lyrical song And that is the way content is found. Hopes that are dear. Hearts that are strong, Cares that belong Under the ground. And that is the way the world goes round. Old friends who hear Have never a moan For dear days perished and buried all ; Youth's young cheer Comes following on. So we take down When the dead leaves fall, 57 With Pipe and Book Take down for youth and dear friends all. The seven old tankards on the wall. ROBERT L. MUNGER. DOROTHY In happy times and merry whiles This song might garland o'er with smiles The new-born love that cradled lies Within thine eyes : Wheti far-off wedding bells a- chime Are touched with magic wand^ And life is at the crescent time. And all is fairyland. Then Song and Echo in my rhyme Go straying hand in hand. But if thy heart is turned from me. Then empty is my heart for thee. And this sad lay is wandering through : When lilting love-songs lose their grace. And jealousies arise, 58 A Collection of College Verse A?id steals a mist across the face. Where love a-gaxing lies, O then are sobs in Echo* s voice. And tears within her eyes. CHAUNCEY WETMORE WELLS. FAIRYLAND Sith none that breatheth living aire does know- Where is that happie land of Faerie. — Spenser. Fairyland, oh, Fairyland ! Show us the road to Fairyland. We are weary of work and woe. Along our pathway the briers grow. And high is the hedge on either hand. Far have we fared from the Fairyland, Fairyland, oh, Fairyland ! Show us the road to Fairyland. Fairyland, oh, Fairyland! Lost is the road to Fairyland ; Across the storied years it winds. Through human hearts and human minds. 59 With Pipe and Book None liveth now who may understand The mystic magic of Fairyland. Fairyland, oh, Fairyland ! Lost is the road to Fairyland. Fairyland, oh, Fairyland ! Who will win back to Fairyland ? He who dwells in the yesterdays May find the path o*er ** ferny braes,** May meet the queen of the elfin band. And come to the long-lost Fairyland. Fairyland, oh, Fairyland ! Who will win back to Fairyland ? MARY HOLLANDS McLEAN. TRIOLET She wears a rose upon her breast ; My heart is folded in the leaves. By fine and filmy lace caressed She wears a rose upon her breast. And little dreams how fair a nest For my poor heart each petal weaves. She wears a rose upon her breast ; My heart is folded in the leaves. 60 A Collection of College Verse IN THE DARK Have you ever been a-walking on the grim old hills at night. When the stars go twinkle-twinkle, and the moon is not in sight. And the big trees in the forest seem to keep out all the light ? You hear a noise behind you, and you start, you don't know why. And somethin* in the darkness seems to moan and pass you by. And the blackness, gettin' blacker, shuts you off from all the sky. Our ancestors were foolish to believe in spright or fay. Or in ghosts that love the darkest night and always shun the day. And that spirits of the dead still walk in their mysterious way. Yet, though it's kind o' childish, I sometimes feel as though 6i With Pipe and Book They weren't so wrong as we believe, and maybe here below There's more around us in the dark than any of us know. JAMES BISSETT PRATT. -♦ CHIVALRY From out the deep and soulless gloom. That his own hand could scarce relume, A voice was heard, as from a tomb, — ** For God and her ! " And straightway in that darksome time. The kloster bells began to chime In sweet, rare tones of song sublime, — "For God and her!" Athwart the gloom bright arms flashed light. While on the lance he bore, each knight Inscribed these magic words of might, — **For God and her!" Then ghastly shadows fled away. And through the darkness stole the gray Of hope's fair morning, and the day For God and her. 62 A Collection of College Verse And when at last within its tomb The knight had swept the lingering gloom, Achilles-like, he faced his doom. For God and her. The knight is gone ; but yet we see Within best manhood, beating free. The ancient heart of Chivalry, — "For God and her!" T. W. BUCHANAN. TWILIGHT SONG Sweetheart, night is falling. Falling Soft o'er land and sea. And my love is calling. Calling Through the night to thee. Fairy fire-lights gleaming. Gleaming, Dancing merrily. Heed me not a-dreaming. Dreaming Dearest heart of thee. 63 With Pipe and Book But the shadows playing. Playing, Seek to comfort me. And afar go straying. Straying, Through the night to thee ; Till about thee bending. Bending, Tell with kisses light That to thee I'm sending. Sending All my love to-night. THE NINETEENTH CENTURY As one who, coming from a darkened place Into full daylight, dazzled by the glare. Sees nothing of the beauty that is there. But only lurid spots that whirl and race ; And stands a moment with bewildered face Till the mists vanish, and the landscape fair Appears in all its glorious splendor rare Where sun and wavering shadow interlace ; 64 A Collection of College Verse So we from ignorance, into the day Of knowledge coming suddenly, assailed By the fierce light of new-found truth, have failed To see the glory that before us lay. But presendy the mists will clear away. And, wondering, we shall see God's face, unveiled. HARRY RUTGERS CONGERo MABEL When Mabel, in the springdme. Leans on the garden gate. The blossoms come to meet her The roses dare not wait. When Mabel, in the summer. Stands in the grassy lane. The daisies nod about her — Bees follow in her train. When Mabel, in the autumn. Walks on the windy street. The blushing leaves attend her. And chase her hurrying feet. 65 With Pipe and Book When Mabel, in the winter. Rides in the merry air. The snowflakes crowd to kiss her. And loiter in her hair. While I, in all the seasons. Join the constant chase — In turn, as flower or snowflake. Pursuing one fair face! THE GLEE CLUB CONCERT The club sings to-night — Are they nervous, I wonder. Hoping all will go right When the club sings to-night ? God save the poor wight Who by chance makes a blunder! The club sings to-night — Are they nervous, I wonder ? My heart sings to-night. For to-night I will meet her. 66 A Collection of College Verse Oh, the world is all bright. And my heart sings to-night. The club is all right. But I think my song sweeter. For my heart sings, <* To-night, Oh, to-night, I will meet her! " The world sings to-night. Though the concert is over. Oh, my heart is light! The whole world sings to-night. She has said that I might For eternity love her. And the world sings to-night. Though the concert is over. JAMES WEBER LINN. FREE LANCES A-RiDiNG, a-riding i' the growing morning light! The bugles blow, and all a-row our lances glitter bright. 67 With Pipe and Book Along the winding river, beside the beached sea. By lonely tower, or high-walled town, or heathy wastes of lea ; Where'er we go, whate'er good cause our strong right arms may claim, God guide us, merry gentlemen, and keep our swords from shame. We squire to no lady's whims, we serve nor church nor lords. But worship upon God's green hills, and love our own bright swords. Let friars pray, and striplings love, and courtiers bend the knee. While blood is hot and muscle firm, our hearts and hands are free. A-riding, a-riding, — the east is all aflame : God guide us, merry gentlemen, and keep our swords from shame. AUGUSTUS M. LORD, A RONDEAU Clarissa laughs. I plead in vain ; She hears my suit with sweet disdain. 68 A Collection of College Verse When I remind her — speaking low — That once she did not flout me so. She asks me — do I think 'twill rain. Then when in anger I am fain To leave her, swear I've naught to gain By staying, save th' increase of woe, Clarissa laughs. Yet when I beg of her to deign To answer, give it joy or pain. She smiles. So then I cannot go. For with her smiles my love doth grow. Yet when I press my suit again, Clarissa laughs. RUTH PARSONS MILNE A MISUNDERSTANDING Came the West Wind, careless rover. Came and lightly kissed the rose. No one knows. No one knows the whole world over. Why she turned her head away ; 69 With Pipe and Book Turned, his coming would not greet. When the West Wind kissed her sweet. Then the West Wind, reckless lover, Lighdy, lighdy shook the rose. No one knows How, dismayed, he sighed above her ; For her petals, one by one. Fell, down-dropping strewn they lay ; Then the West Wind stole away. s. c. w. LOVE'S ORIGIN Midst the deepening shades of night, infant night. Look above, look above ! While the leaf a love-lay breathes from its height ; While the shadows hide the dross and the blight ; All is love. All is love ! List the chant of distant bells on the air. Up above, up above ! 70 A Collection of College Verse Through the honey of the dew, O so fair ! Through the depth of silent thought, ah ! up there All is love. AW is love ! Melting music from afar on the ears, God above, God above ! Lulls to sleep the rolling years, anguished years. All the pain and bitter strife, inward tears. For all is love. All is love ! ARTHUR D. CALL. THE CROCUSES High in the night hung the moon, so cold. Bending down to the earth, so old. With her finger-tips on her icy lips. Hiding her face in a cloud eclipse, Silendy touched the crocus cups. The shivering crocus cups. Back shrank the spirit of Spring, so chilled ; Eyes with the tears of a hurt so filled ; 71 With Pipe and Book But pitiful Night, with a coverlet white, Crooning a lullaby, tucked out of sight The quivering crocus cups. Deep in the crocus heart, so still. Slumbered the soul of Spring, until Through the tears and sighs of April skies The sun dropped a kiss on the wide, sweet eyes Smiling up from the crocus cups. The trembling crocus cups. MARY HEFFERAN. POLLY, MY SWEETHEART O, Polly, my sweetheart, so tender and true. Alone in the gloaming I'm thinking of you. And Polly, my sweetheart, my heart says to me. Wherever she is, she is thinking of thee ! O, Polly, my sweetheart, so tender and true. How long are the days till I'm married to you. And, Polly, my sweetheart, my heart says to me. The days are as long, too, for her as for thee. 72 A Collection of College Verse O, Polly, my sweetheart, so tender and true, I'll laugh at the king when I'm married to you. And, Polly, my sweetheart, my heart says to me. She'll blush like the rose as she listens to thee. O, Polly, my sweetheart, the dark day must come When fond eyes are darkened and dear lips are dumb. But, Polly, my sweetheart, my heart says to me. Wherever the one is the other shall be ! S. A. JONES. SONG To-day's to-day, and what's to-morrow ? Here's a tankard unto sorrow. The past is dead, and who will borrow Care from what is yet to come ? We have journeyed o'er the stubble. Arm in arm with sad-eyed trouble. Care will vanish as this bubble. Sing the louder ; are you dumb ? 73 With Pipe and Book In this wine there lurks a fairy. See, she bids you all be merry ! Drink a goblet of this sherry. Pledge with us again a toast ! Seize the moment e*er it passes. Drink the wine up, drain the glasses. Drink a health to all the lasses. Pledge the girl you love the most. If the one that you adore is Graced with all her wondrous glories. Be she Bess or dark Dolores, You're the one to know it best. And if other names incite you. Here's to her who may delight you. If in doubt this cup will right you. Pledge the one you last caressed ! In this draught you'll find a treasure. Just but see its golden measure ! I will warrant there's no pleasure Such as lurks within this glass ! Let the outer world abuse us. If they drank of this they'd choose us, 74 A Collection of College Verse But in hollow love they lose us Till their dusty lives do pass. EUGENE RICHARD WHITE. MY OLD GUITAR By some eastern river thy rosewood grew. Thy inlaid pearl in the restless sea ; What craftsman moulded thy bosom fair. Sounding with dreamy melody ? What maiden's fingers have swept thy strings. In the distant vistas of long ago ? What love-lorn gallant has sung his lay To thy tuneful cadence sweet and low ? What odors of romance round thee cling. As each chord swells in thy bosom deep ? Whispering long-forgotten loves. Trilling the soul to rest and sleep. Oh, Muse, who dwells in the hollow shrine Of my old guitar with its tales of yore. Grant me the power to wake thy strains In music sweeter than e'er before. F. G. HINSDALE. 75 With Pipe and Book JOCK AND JENNY Oh, Jock and Jenny, they went to the fair ; So gay and so charming was never a pair. No lad was so bold and no lassie so sweet, — And the piper played faster to follow their feet. Trip it high ! Trip it low ! Join hands and curtsey ^ then off with a swing. And follow your partner around in the ring ; Now fast ! Now slow ! So long as the sun shines this bright summer dayy We"* II trip it and ship it, so blithe and so gay. Said Jock, "I've but threepence ; 'twill be but a bite. The parritch we'll sup on thegither the night." Said Jenny, ** 'Twill do for a bit o' a treat ; Let's laugh and be merry, — there's nae need to greet. "There's ane for a token; we'll break it in twa. And swear to be leal till the last day o' a' ; 76 A Collection of College Verse And ane for a ribband to twist in my hair. And there's ane for the piper and there's — naething mair." Said Jock, "I'll not hunger ; I have na a fear. For I'll feed on the smiles o' your mouth, Jenny dear ; As for drinkin', the glent o' your bonnie brown ee Is makin' me toisie, as 'twere barley-bree." Then Jenny looked up with a roguish surprise. And whispered, ** Sure, Jock, ye are tellin' me lies ; But whilst ye are dinin' sae dainty and well I'll be wantin' a bit o' a sweetie mysel'." Oh, Jock and Jenny, they went to the fair. So gay and so charming was never a pair. No lad was so bold and no lassie so sweet, — Going home in the moonlight thro' acres of wheat. LOUIS PACKARD GILLESPIE n With Pipe and Book THE FIRST SNOWSTORM A Child's Poem Little Miss Snowflake, dressed in white. Came down the dusty road one night. Her dress was as white as a piece of chalk. And she pranced around, but did not walk ; For she was going to a ball that night. And that was the reason she dressed in white. There were fifty thousand, and many more, too. And they looked like the children that lived in the shoe. They had for music, that happy night, A little brook that sang about flight ; They had for chorus the rustling leaves That came from the top of the tallest trees. EMILY EUGENIA MORRIS. UPON HER MANDOLIN The roses climb and cluster On Margery's lattice tall ; Aloft, with lucent lustre. Stars gem the heavenly hall ; 78 A Collection of College Verse Soft cadences are straying Where silence late hath been : 'Tis bonny Margery playing Upon her mandolin. The crickets cease their trilling Amid the grassy aisles ; Charmed by the music thrilling. The drooping jasmine smiles ; The mocking-bird, delaying. Forgets his silvery din. And lists to Margery's playing Upon her mandolin. In envy, 'neath her bower. Whose blossoms scent the gale. Her lover sees a flow^er The slender lattice scale ; I ween there is no saying What he'd not dare, to win The brown-eyed Margery playing Upon her mandolin. CLINTON SCOLLARD. 79 With Pipe and Book SUPPOSE A SOFT cloud is drifting away in the night, — Drifting away in the pale starlight ; With the gentle moon to shine on me. And the glimmer of stars for company. Wrapped in the downy folds to lie. With the night-wind to kiss me a soft lullaby. Answer me, is there sweeter bliss Than this ? But what if the storm-winds should arise, As I drift with the cloud thro' the starlit skies ; And the moon should hide and the stars go in. And with tear-drops big should the rain begin, I cannot but think that I might weep too. As my soft downy quilt to a wet sheet grew ; And I might be dropped in a big thorn tree. Ah me! THE SONG OF THE JOLLY FAT FRIAR A JOLLY fat friar once lived in a dell ; He told oft his beads, and he toll'd oft his bell ; 80 A Collection of College Verse Though he didn't fear heaven, he wouldn't fear hell. For he liked Billy Satan a trifle too well. Chorus : Oh ! ' Twas ding ! dong ! ding ! dong / gluckety ! gluckety! gluck! He pulled at the belly a good pull and strong. Then pulled at the jlagon for lucky With a gluckety ! gluckety ! gluck ! This jolly fat friar threw over his care. With merry good fellows and jolly good fun. He learned from the wine-cup a new-fashioned prayer. And morning and evening he'd over it run. Chorus : With a ding! dong! etc. It 'gan with the famous old Latin word *'hoc," And rambled along o'er the saints of his stock. Till the flagon grew thin and his mutterings grew thick. When it ended itself with an infamous **hic!" Chorus : Oh ! ' twas ding ! dong ! etc. CLAY ARTHUR PIERCE. 8i With Pipe and Book A VALENTINE I'm penning you a greeting This sweet confession-time With Cupid gently beating The music of its rhyme. Pray list to my entreating. Pray read this pleading line. For I in song so deeply long To be your Valentine. My page will soon be bearing This message Love has framed. And eager hopes preparing To share what it has claimed ; Let, dear, your heart be daring. Give Cupid but a sign That he may say for this one day I am your Valentine. My page will whisper sweeter Confessions than I write ; His cunning wings are fleeter Than flash of morning light. 82 A Collection of College Verse Forth, Cupid, then, and greet her. Breathe magic words of thine. And backward fly, and say that I May be her Valentine. S. T. LIVINGSTON. WHEN LOVE WAS BORN When Love was born, he found all nature drear ; The silent birds knew naught of friendly cheer. And forest trees were bare. The sweet breath' d pine Gasped on the earth. But nature 'came divine When Cupid dropped from God with winged spear. Each star, till then fast fixed in its sphere. Sped through the shady blue like startled deer. And knelt adoring at some planet's shrine. When Love was born. The birds built nests, rejoicing far and near ; The air was music with their glad career ; ^3 With Pipe and Book Light zephyrs kissed the joining tree and vine : For God gave to the world this Valentine, And bade the sun-clouds drop a joyous tear. When Love was born. NORMAN HUTCHINSON. MY LADY NICOTINE Realmed in the dreams of Fancy, Crowned with the pearl of smoke. From the lost land of necromancy My lady of old I invoke My lady of Nicotina, As gay as the laughter of dreams. As subtle as purring waters. As fair as the woodland streams. Crowned in moments of pleasure, A friend in time of fear. Like the sway of a love-caught measure. She speaks her word in my ear. Until in moments of longing She banishes doubt and regret. And I touch her lips uplifted With the wand of my cigarette. 84 A Collection of College Verse You awake from the dreams of Hashan, There is doubt in your castles of Spain, Love lurks in eyes Caucasian To leave them again and again ; Yet soft at the hint of my bidding. There floats on my vision a queen Who lurks in dreams and fancies. My lady of Nicotine. THE NIGHT-WIND'S SONG The night-wind sings ever of thee, sweetheart. Tenderly low ; The night-wind bears its song to me, sweetheart. Through moonbeams* glow. And the night- wind's song and mine are one. And together of thee we sing, my own. We love thee so. The night-wind has drunk of thine eyes, sweetheart. And kissed thy hair. The night-wind thy every glance espies, sweetheart. Thy joys doth share. 85 With Pipe and Book And ever it brings a breath of thee That fills my soul with ecstasy. Oh, sweetheart fair. HARRY C. PORTER. LULLABY Dreamily, dreamily, swinging, swaying. Blow as the blossoms blow, — Babekyn rocks in a faery cradle. Now high, now low. Babekyn rocks in faery cradle. Hung from the white moon's horn. Pillowed on clinging, shimmering fleeces. From bright clouds shorn. Merrily, gleefully, tossing, rocking. Sunshine on every side, — Appleblows daintiest, sweetest, palest. His Majesty hide. Gleefully, daintily, swinging, swaying. Blossoms blow light in the wind ; Dawn-tinted petals fall thickly, till Baby Is hard to find. 86 A Collection of College Verse Wearily, wearily, rocking, swaying. Even the robins rest ; When the sun is dead and the blossoms shiver Long dreams are best. EMILY S. JOHNSON. WHERE LOVE DWELLS Canst thou tell me where love dwells ? Is it in the tender bells Of the wakening flowers at morn ? Is it in the starry skies. Ever twinkling lullabies To the spirits sorrow-worn ? Canst thou tell me where love sleeps ? Is it in the mystic deeps Of poet* s fondest fancy? Poesy! the echo long Of thy minstrelsy and song Dies as a music on the sea. Where, then, tell me, dost love rest ? It is in the heart that best Bears its sorrow love is born. 87 With Pipe and Book In gentle Faith — there love abides Whispering that naught besides Holds the spirits sorrow-worn. LEWIS L. BRASTOW. IMMER MEHR It was just a sweet song that she sang, A mystic and wonderful song ; Through the halls of my being it rang. And echoed so clear and so strong That I cried, **This is more than a song.'* It was only a word that she spoke, — A tender and beautiful word ; Yet the voice of my passion it woke. As dawn wakes the voice of a bird. And I said, **This is more than a word." It was only a clasp of the hand. And a glance from two lovely dark eyes That timidly, dreamfully scanned My own, seeking love to disguise. But I saw there was love in her eyes. 88 A Collection of College Verse And the love half-concealed in her eyes Met the love that was restless in mine. And her blushes were sudden to rise As the tongue of the flame by a shrine. Then I whispered, **I know she is mine.'* THOMAS POTTER SANBORN. MY HOUNDS When *neath my window's bar my good hounds growl. And through the darkness frantic rushes make At unseen foes, until the echoes wake And lift their voices up in answering howl ; Then do I scorn the terrors of the dark. And laugh aloud, and cry out in delight, ** No danger need I tremble at to-night — My good hounds bark." But when no deep-toned baying breaks the hush. When all the silent night my ears I strain To hear their watchful muttering, in vain. With Pipe and Book And the ground quakes not with their sudden rush. Then shadowy forms my chamber seem to fill. And stealthy footsteps on the stair I hear ; My heart leaps, quivering with a nameless fear — My hounds are still. JULIET WILBUR TOMPKINS. SONG OF RETURN Come, love, come where lilies blow. For the long grass waves in the sun. And the wind is kissing the dew from the flowers One by one. Oh come where wandering rivers find Their home in the heart of the sea. And I'll tell thee how this vagrant heart Hies back to thee. Come o'er the hills to the Sunset Gate, When crimson couriers run 90 A Collection of College Verse To tell in the land of the Evening Queen That Day is done. Oh come to the glimmering lake's brown marge. Where the waters soon will be At rest with the holy vesper hour ; So I with thee. Come out in the silent night, my love. Oh come to me ! For I am here beneath the stars. Returned to thee. And thou art mine, I thine for all Eternity ! PROM. ROSES Only a bunch of roses fair, A cluster of pink and white, Roses that nod to the music low. The flowers she wore that night. She tenderly lifts each drooping head That gracefully tosses there. And the dainty flowers, nestling close. Smile back at the maiden fair. 91 With Pipe and Book "How beautiful they are," she said. As she pressed them to her cheek, **Why, the opened petals almost seem As if they were trying to speak." I wonder why she cannot hear The song that the flowers sing, I wonder if she knows or cares For the message the roses bring. JAMES p. SAWYER. LOST LOVE In my heart a silent chamber. No one dwells there, no one enters. From the walls the busy spiders drop and spin their webs of gauze. Watch and weave in vain endeavor. Weak and dying, fall forever. While the gray dust sifts and settles, all along the barren floors. Once it was the scene of splendor. Light and gladness, joy and glory. There my princess dwelt in beauty, never seen on earth before ; 92 A Collection of College Verse And the candles by the fire Leaped and quivered with desire. Joy that she should look upon them, longed to feel her presence more. By the ancient carven portal Hangs the key now rusted, broken. And across the bare, garret windows stretch the curtains, old and thin ; Time has dimmed them, moths have eaten. Winter storms have tossed and beaten. In my chamber, silence, darkness ; sunshine never enters in. THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM One star from all eternity has hung. The porch-light of God's house, to be a guide To weary angels, speeding to his side From ministry on earth ; and shines among The lesser lights with glory that has sprung From nearness to his presence, and the wide White gates of Heaven, where the hosts abide Who chant his praise with undefiled tongue 93 With Pipe and Book But once, when wise men journeyed from afar With gifts of gold and incense in their hands, God left the portals dark, and sent his star To guide their footsteps over desert sands. To where, in stable, as the oxen are, A little child lay wrapped in swaddling bands. ELIZABETH KEMPER ADAMS. DREAM SONG At eventide, at eventide. When the golden sun drops into the sea. Then over the waters, deep and wide. The little dreams wander so gleefully. Some come on rafts, and some in boats. Or anything else that sails and floats! They moor their ships, they moor their ships. Just as the stars begin to peep. And silently each little dreamling slips Through the nursery windows, where children sleep. And they sit on the children's pillows all night Telling them stories till broad daylight! 94 A Collection of College Verse They tell such tales, they tell such tales. Of gardens as fair as the Paradise ! Of mermaids and nixies, — and giant whales That live far north, midst the snow and ice, — Or of countries where always 'tis Saturday, And children do nothing else but play ! But when dawn draws nigh, when dawn draws nigh. The dreams flit back to their boats again. And the stars, one by one, drop out of the sky. And the moon's bright lamp begins to wane. Then they sail to the land of the rising sun To wait there and play, till day is done. GERTRUDE CRAVEN. WHERE CUPID DWELLS Way over the seas, in a far, far land. Where skies are blue and gold ; Where ripples break on a silver sand. And sunbeams ne'er grow old ; There's a dale where Cupid dwells, they say. And 'tis there that he rests from his frolic play. 95 With Pipe and Book Oh, there's many a lass and many a swain That knows of his shafts made there ; For Cupid spares naught of a deep heart-pain. Though love be all his care. And I think he should make a reflection or two. When he rests over there from his play. Don't you ? ROBERT L. MUNGER. WOODLAND WHISPERS O GROVES of my own dear home-land Wrapped in tender twilight shades. My soul goes out in longing For your dim and sheltered glades. With their sweet familiar murmurs Which I still in fancy hear Like a strain of distant music. Falling soft upon my ear. O dells of my boyhood roamings Glamoured with the spell of youth, 'Midst your soft and hallowed gloamings Every fancy seemed a truth, 96 A Collection of College Verse And the pure untainted fragrance Breathed from out the forest aisles Seems to haunt me in my vagrance Through the weary waste of miles. Ye dear and hallowed echoes. With your wistful, sad refrain. Ye breathe through all my spirit. Till I scarce can quell the pain Of the longing for the dear days That have fled into the gloom. With the dusky, tangled byways And the woodland's sweet perfume. R. P. COOKE. SONG OF THE SEA FLIGHT Sing ho ! sing ho ! for the sailing, O ! For the salt, salt surge and the winds that blow! And the foam that's flung from the rail, bent low O'er the roaring sea! Sing ho! then, loud, for the rattling shroud. The whistling gale, and the scudding cloud. And the gay gull soaring on pinions proud So far and free! 97 With Pipe and Book Sing ho for the stars that bloom at night! For the streaming wake, soft-sown with light! And the face that shines in the moon's mist white Near, near, and sweet! For the tale oft- told that will ne'er grow old. The shy, sweet glance, and the hand-clasp bold. And the mad, wild music that young hearts hold When warm lips meet! Then ho for the salt sea's breath divine! It thrills the blood like the rage of wine As, borne by long billows that shake and shine. We lose the lea! Unsullied the breezes sing and sweep ; Forgot are dull shoreward hours that creep ; With joy past naming our pulses leap Far out at sea! W. C. H. A MAY SONG Heydey! for the maids of May! Love alone is the game to play! 98 A Collection of College Verse Turn on me your girlish glances. Every look my love enhances. Every smile my heart entrances. Oh, May, I pray but stay! Heydey ! for the maids of May! Laughing, loving, blithe and gay! Laugh and part your lips in singing. Let my heart w^ith echoes ringing. Haste the hours upon their winging. Oh, May, but stay, I pray! Heydey ! for the maids of May ! Love and life have come to stay! Still, alas! v^hilst I am singing. List how Cupid's bow is ringing. See how deep his darts are stinging. Oh, May, I pray, awa;^ ! CHARLES SUMNER PIKE. JACQUEMINOT Are you filled with wonder. Jacqueminot, Do you think me mad that I kiss you so ? If a rose could one of its thoughts express, I'd find you mocking, I more than guess; 99 With Pipe and Book And yet if you vow me a fond old fool. Just think if your own sweet pulse was cool When you lay in her tresses an hour ago. Jacqueminot. This pale, proud girl, you must understand. Held all my fate in her small white hand. And when I asked her to be my bride. She wanted a day to think, — decide ; And I asked her, if her answer were ;/3i,99 Leonard, Ellsworth, 1 1 1 Levier, E. M., 149 Linn, James Weber, 2, 66 Livingston, S. T., 82 Lord, Augustus M., 51, 67 McClellan, George Brown- ing, 120 McDonald, Francis Charles, 134 15 Author Index McKinney, Fanny L., 35 McLean, Mary Hollands, 60 Magee, Louis Jones, 47 Merrill, Charles E., Jr., 13 Milne, Ruth Parsons, 68 Morris, Emily Eugenia, 78 Munger, Robert L., 28, 56, 95, 118, 131 Pierce, Clay Arthur, 80 Pike, Charles Sumner, 14,28 Pitman, N. H., 52 Porter, Harry C, 85 Potter, David, 19, 121 Pratt, James Binett, 61 (^uinn, Arthur Hobson, 10 1 Raleigh, Edward A., 140 Reed, Amy Louise, 25 Reimer, Marie, 21 Sanborn, Thomas P. , 8 8 , i o 3 Sawyer, J. P., 91 ScoUard, Clinton, 78, 105, 108 Scribner, Annie Nyhan, 119 Simmons, Theodore Hin- man, 112 Stamon, Frank L., 45 Stone, Henry Morgan, i 5 Tatlock, John S. P., 135 Thomas, Albert Ellsworth, 27 Thomas, Charles Edward, 117 Thorndike, Ashley Horace, 46 Tompkins, Juliet Wilbur, 18, 53, 89, 147 Townsend, H. H., 30 Webster, Henry K., 109 Wells, Chauncey Wetmore, Welsh, Henry Hunter, loi, "5 White, Eugene Richard, 73 Williams, James Dawes, 52 Winter, Louis V., 143 52