Kenyon College - Reveille Yearbook (Gambier, OH)

Page 9 text:

 “NOVUM ORGANUM.” Pearly glows bright “the weed” by dollar’s Flash ignited. For longer yarn craze Granville’s Fair, whom he did so amaze By his blazing skill at pipe and hat, As well’s in other ways. “For a’ that” We yet must own this youth has one sad Fault, which could we skip we’d be ten) glad; To Virgin worship he’s given By far too much for hope of Heaven. Alack, that Circe-like sylphs should witch With Syren songs so low and rich, This Paris fair; that smiles so coy, Should once again burn up a Troy! But hold, thou quill, reserve thy lire, Yea, let us cease to pluck his heard; (’Tis even now too sparse.) We’ve heard Him roar full oft enough, this “Lion In his den.” Patience now, and we’ll on To a piece of liner clay well tried In lircs of Kenyon Court from “Oxide Slugs” and every sort of gas; tho’ Still, his kindly critics grieve to know, His “brass” gleams brighter than before. Yet haste thee, muse, nor tarry more This Pennsylvanian “hoar” to sing, Lest with huge fang and frightful spring II 5 grind you into dust. “With fear And trembling,” then, low lisp tliee, dear, In whispers under breath, how sobbed “Tho City” at his loss; how throbbed Our hearts with gratitude profound At sight of him; and how, when found That for to civilize us boors Was ho come down, leaped forth from doors And windows too, at cry—“ Heads out,” That thnnd’ring clap and stentor shout That made tho welkin ring, with welcomes Loud, at our Apostle's landing! Beams Next this errant saint o’ Bhenish fame To Prelate’s festive board. All, fine Sight that, like moonlight’s'rain Ik» w splendid, To’ve seen him bow, this beau, while down did Beam from painting’s frame his lustrous Card divine. But hold! For gracious Snkes his idiocrasics deep slough Don’t try to sound, or you’ll drown; for though

Page 8 text:

“j lovujvi 'pRQAJ UM.” « - Veni lam’s Lord in days of old, wJfA. With hook so keen and heart as hold, Lopped off excrescences that marred The fair tree of knowledge; and starred, With special vim, the “Idols of Den” As fraught with shame: What hindoreth then Our seizing a pen for floggings likef Not modesty sure! Sophs for a “ strike” Are not more famed, when the bell dies sweet And distant’s the roar of angled feet Round “the corner” wending, than Reveilles For brass. Yes, “cheek” that puffs and swells. Alone, we wot, can suit the taste Of not a few whose names’t were waste To sound, so well they’re known. As sample Thine, 0 youth divine, for example Curls and cards for aye to he proclaimed By clarion’s clang, as well’s for maimed And mangled colts felled low to earth By thy true shot. Ah, at farm-house hearth What wailings must have been! E’en Sony’s Tears must sure have thawed at Lucy’s Rueful plaints, “0 sportsman stern who’d ’spose Thou could’st plant a thorn where once the rose,— Thou, so ‘wondrous fair!’ Alas, what wreck! Thou’st bagged a bird indeed; for to check My flutterings ’twere vain to try! Then Give, pray give, my “pony” back that, when By swiftest flight I’ve ’scaped thy slauglit’riug Face, my woes may end by mournful spring From some Lcucndinn Rock!” Who’d fain Know more, scold Fame, which hero the curtain Drops, nor lifts again, save for one sweet Glimpse,—our Hero at the maiden’s feet, All troubles o’er, while ’twixt his molars

Page 10 text:

8 “NO YUM OR GANUM. We’ve toiled amain, tlio weary “plumb0 Nor base, nor rest bath found. No crumb Of hope, that he’ll amend, our gloom At all allays; then up; his doom Pronounce; his “papers” give! Yet still Our hearts relent and fain would fill This lad’s last cup brimfull with sweets. So then we’ll vouch for luscious treats ’Midst truths and garnered stores, When once you’ve opo’d her golden doors With Senior key. Oh, but wont you joy In your loved “Ego’s” much employ! My eye! You’ll grow of such account. That to the very “star(rh)’s” you’ll mount! Such “feastsof soul” will also warm Fierce Dick the “Duelist’s” stout arm To break a Law—all, oh, pray all That ne’er again those lists may fall On luckless mortal’s nose! “Spare speech,” Howe’er, pack close and tight, you’d filch His precious time! Now, thieves we’re not And so’ll quit quick; this Gordian knot No more we ’ll hack, but only laic “Bisk,”—nor him, save with mild, cleric Tones as seemeth well our lowliness. Good my Lord, may’t please your Holiness, Wherefore such fearful mein and visage Harsh? Thou well art famed for a carriage High; woro’t else, ’twould ill beseem thy rank. But, sure, the MKAT-AX-look that steels Your face and plays from head to heels Round “embonpoint” so very marked Is hardly meet! Who so hath harked To Cheney’s vaunts will sure ne’er rate This showing of a “Bishop’s” trait— Or foible, if you’d rather. But, If that’s the “why” you’re pleased, ne’er shut Blaine’s windows up; nay, let it pour! Welcome, c’re that, the tempest’s roar! Our task’s now done; the glass is run, Or will be in n trice. Not fun Alone hath been our aim ; ah, no! 'flie mirage’s antic scenes soon go— And leave tlf athirst in tears. A thought Sad we’d have some, then, for sins so fraught With shame, as ’hind the organ sneaking,