DYouville College - DYouvillian Yearbook (Buffalo, NY)

Page 126 text:

W f .i0uv1I.L1A we 6 N fm A BOARDER'S PRAYER So many lessons to do, so many left undone, So many themes unwritten as the ten o'clock bell is rung, So many thereoms unlearned, so many notes unread, O, brace me 'gainst the eightfforty gong,---sweet bed. One junior to another on day of make'up : I've heard a lot about affection I have no doubt it's true. But tell me what kind of connection Results from what we're going through? Second junior: I've known the kind of love you mean, It's sort of a friendship's chain That's at a time like this between All Hunks who suffer makeup pain. OUR TOAST TO US Here's to the Juniors at College, A wonderful class, so they say- Every one is supreme in her knowledge, They're like comets that blaze in the day. They're always at best in their classes, For there's where they work with a will. So here's to the K. X. lasses- The pride of our own D'Youville. Ego sedeo down to write, A pulchra little ditty, Sed ingenium is slight, Diflicile est to be witty. Sententiae, they come and go, Non possum make them rhyme, Discessa verba cause me woe, Scribam some other time. 136

Page 125 text:

W 1 HE v.fOUVILLIAN sa M T tx . GF ' if I4 , V! 5:1 ' I Xxx . I l x 5. 1 I MISERIA I exult! I prance I leap, I shout for very joy! My azure orbs glint with the laughter Of carefree, mirthfliving youth. My feet encased in dainty cowhide, Clog the light fantastic Over the downy carpet of asphalt. But suddenly I see a sorry sight Which sickens the very soul of me. My pedal extremities falter-fail! Why move them? Ave let them stay thcre till they take root And can never be transplanted. 'Twould be a fate less cruel Than that which now assails me. My soul struggles to rise triumphant Over disaster, but the ebon wings of Care, dull care, o'erwhelm and strangle it. I sink in a graceful pose on the curbstone, The light of my life extinguishedf O cruel Fate! O dire Destiny! O sight unspeakable-- The smirking tail light of the Eighteiifteen Connecticut, dashing away, Unmindful of my pleas, My moans, my piteous cries. And, oh, ye gods! I've Latin At twenty minutes of nine! One evening some dear little Freshmen Decided to go for a swim, This account will not be tragic, No one of our class fell in. The reason was most explicit, No one of our class could go, Because they had not a certificate- Which, at the pool, they must show. Before exams they shake and quail For all is deep suspense, After exams they weep and wail For now comes dire expense. 135

Page 127 text:

-:ui 9 N '-fasx .0 X NX -A AIQUVILLIA TRAGEDIES AN EIGHTFORTY The maiden stood at Shelton Square At twentyffive to nine, Her noble brow was creased with care, Oh, could she be on time? A car slid slowly into sight, Oh, heavens! could it be? She rushed up frantic with delight- But 'twas a number three! EXAM WEEK In the hour between darkness and daylight, When the cocks are beginning to crow, Comes a pause in the night's hectic cramming, That is known as the hot coffee hour. Six wearyfeyed, sleepfmaddened Freshmen, Gaze on notebooks and outlines galore, They seem to rise up and confront them, And they sigh that they'll never rest more. Now rises th' entrancing aroma Of simmering Japanese the, And they gaze like feverfparched sailors, On the gold of their cafe-auflait! In the hush of that rosy morn's dawning, A shriek echoed far and wide. For they found the Carnation was turning, And their sugar was sodium chloride! y DREAMS A perfect schedule-no eight forties Wonder of wonders--no five twenties. What,---what can it mean? 'Tis only a little sophomore's dream. No school tofday? No school tofday! It's been declared a holiday. Alas!--but soon 'tis seen, 'Tis only a little sophomores dream. Fine reports! splendid things! We got honors in everything! Ah-for the things that might have been, 'Twas only a little sophomore's dream. W- Som-IIE f MORE. 137