Bennett Medical College - Em Dee Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

Page 216 text:

iw O doctor! thus the mother cries, And there is terror in her eyes, We hope you have not come too lateg The baby's in a dreadful state. Her eyes are bright, she cries at night, l-ler little clothes are getting tight, And when she sleeps, she kicks and squirms l fear the little clear's got worms. And doctor interrupts Aunt Sue, An elderly lady, triecl and true, This is what most arouses my fears: 5he's too precocious for her years. With such a brain l fear 'tis vain l-ler health and beauty to maintaing This state my point of View confirms- l'm sure the little dear's got worms. Yes, doctor, grandmother avers, And who can doubt these signs of hers? Around her mouth's a line of white, She grits her little teeth at night: She works her toes, she picks her nose, ' And when she sleeps, her eyes don't close. Don't talk to me of various germs- l l-:now the little dear's got worms. G. C. G. 'l6. THE Qocroiz. No higher, holier gift than thine. To mortal frail, is given, To heal the ills of fallen man, A gift of highest heaven. ODE TO A DOCTOR. The doctor comes, and quick prescribes, And then, when we are better, l-le sends a bill that reads like this: To Dr. Cureall, Dr. For when we're in the grasp of pain. And he has come and knocked her, We surely must admit that we Are Dr. to our Dr. Y -j. G. BURNETT. QI!

Page 215 text:

Wfswgyr The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne, The tools so crude, the Master-hand so stern, The price so great, the gain so nearly naught, The effort vain, or knowledge dearly bought, A broken tool, and naught wherewith to mend, A struggle brief, and then we reach-the end! -PAUL LORRILLIERE HSMILES INSTEAD Oli TEARS. Condemn not too quickly, Oh, my friend, Rather help him on his way. With a cheer, a smile and a helping hand, The one who has gone astrayg Remember, you, too, might err some day. Withhold the words of anger, friend, You have no right to judge a man, Until he's been fairly tried. Retain the judgment you would give, Leave that to mightier Power Above. Thinl-L of the sorrow you may cause: To some mother, Wife or child. Deep down within the heart you hurt, You'll find a feeling pure and true, That were he in your place today, Would cause you smiles instead of tears. Perhaps the stride you'Ve made today, lf figured out on the square, 'Twould show a big balance, my friend, To the one who slipped it to you When you most needed a helping hand. lt's easy to keep one down, friend, just because you happen to be up, But let your word be ul forgiveng You'll then rejoice, my friend, That you'caused smiles instead of tears. -j. J. ZAK, 1915 U11

Page 217 text:

THE SAME THING OVER AGAIN. 'Tm tired, he growled, of the endless round Of things I'm doing each day. Each morn, by jinks! at my desk I'm found, To work in the same old way. I get nowhere when the day is through: I'm not like Iuckier men- Tomorrow l'll be compelled to do The same thing over again. That night he dreamed that he heard the trees Complain of the tasks they hadg Their words moaned by on a sighing breeze In tones that were dull and sad, Each year, they wailed, we must leaf anew- The spring time telling us when- And year by year it is ours to do The same thing over again. The clock ticked loud from the bedroom wall And said in a voice all sour: There's nothing new I may do at all But journey by hour and hour. I strike for twelve and for one and two, I shudder at nine and ten, For day by day I must always do The same thing over again. The earth itself all at once complained: 'Tm heartily tired, I sayg I've rolled along, though it snowed or rained, And whirled for each changing day- Through centuries, and through eons, too, I've gone the same course-but then Each year I sigh that I have to do The same thing over again. When a bit of sunshine hits ye, After passing of a cloud, When a bit of laughter gits ye, An yer spine is feelin' proud, Don't forget to up and Fling it At a soul that is feeling blue. For the minute that you Fling it It's a boomerang to you. -1. CRAWFORD 213