Philadelphia Dental College - Class Book Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

Page 200 text:

In our own .estimation we great were and more, When we as Juniors returned next Fall: For most of us had our greenness outgrown, And at our successors Fresh --might call. But soon, when we to work did get, Found how little we really knewg For when in lectures we were quizzed, The questions answered were, Oh, how few! From Stellwagen we learned how to live to be oldg From Guilford were taught to work with precision, And from our silver-tongued orator, Boenning, H. C., To let out the pus with a bold, free incision. With Burehard, as captain, we fought microbes by theory lfVith Howell, Nature's secrets we loved to exploreg And Grcenbaum, how with heart fastly beating, Did we wait 'till his exam. of each Filling was o'er. When we at length our last year began, And beheld the Freshmen who were just starting in, We gazed with contempt on each as they passed by, And wondered, their like could we ever have been. But we are a modest class and do not care to dwell Upon our many virtues, you k11ow them now full wellg In clinic we're a wonder, with our athletes none compare For on the gridiron, in the rushes, '98 was always there. Three years have passed since we first begun, And we our childness have outgrowng For now we moult our college gowns- We have made good friends, and studied-some. And now into the world we come. How we'l1 miss those naps taken quick on the sly, While Burehard, by logic and eloquence great, To prove he's the greatest pathologist, did try. Oh, Guilford, poor Guilford! What now will you do, Since no more can you revel in fiendish delight? For never, thank goodness, will we more COI116 to you To answer that confounded roll-call at night. No more will we assemble at the call of the bell In those old lecture rooms where each year we received From Burchard and Boenning, whom we all know so well Inspirations and microbes every time that we breathed. 204

Page 199 text:

i , 'rx as e 53-wh Ri? ,L V' f 'f ' Ll- ' ,J A qgfvslf if ill' N.. 'JDS' ij Z .gp av ' A 'gk I Q ,Q A 4 no 4, 3 Q nex t- ., im ' , , , - , ,ffszti E' .::1.--,,,-QY'HTiF:-:F- M- '--::.- -11+ ix .:Y ST. -' V POET is born, not made, they say. But I am not one of the fortunate fewg For it takes a born poet to make a good rhyme, A fact you will discover before I am through. I have here no tale of classical lore, Neither sing I of hero great, But in a few words-I'll try not to bore- You will hear of this famed '98 Three years ago, in the Fall of the year, As innocent Freshmen so childlike and green, We began as a class our college career. And to be guyed by the students of loftier mien. Scarce two months we had passed in our course, When by deep sorrow was P. D. C. o'erspreadg For a man whom all men may be proud to have known Our esteemed and beloved Dean Garretson was dead. When the end of our Freshmen year came round, Few hailed its dawn with heart of cheerg For it marked the departure of Flagg and Dorr, Whom we had learned to love so dear. 203

Page 201 text:

How we will miss those hard seats. upon which we sat, I am sure that their hardness would move even a stoieg While the Profs, hour after hour tried our attention to gain, By lecturing from notes made in age Paleozoie. And old Philadelphia, with her maidens so lair, Now, they say we've become desperately dear: But next year they will capture some Junior and then, Womanlikc, they'll forget us in less than a year. Farewell to our landlady, with her stale bread and pieg And though absent afar. we shall think of her stillg But her reign is now over, and no more can she give Us that gentle reminder, Please settle your bill. Our course is rung our record's made: our heart with sorrow fills At thoughts of breaking tender ties and paying laundry bills. Fate's clock has struck. We're hit. And P. D. C. has hurled Her three-year children from her arms out on a wicked world. MEADE I. SCHENCK, '98, Class Poet. 205