Page 166 - YB1899

}f Psalm of £oll¢g¢ tift What the Heart of the Student Said to the Professor. (WITH HUMBT_,; A.POLOG[ES 1.'0 LONGf.'ELLOW,) 'I'ell me not in mirthful numbers, Life is but a campus scene! For the boy is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they mean. LIfe is work! Life is earnest! But the" grade" is not its goal; Flunk thou do, to flunk returnest, Was not spoken of the son 1. Not perfection, and not power, Is our destined end or way; Bnt to act, that ev'ry hour Finds 11S farther on the way. Profs. are sharp, and Time is fleeting; O'er our tricks, though stout and brave, Perhaps we will soon be singing Funeral dirges at their grave. In the college field of battle, In the bivouac of Fun, Let not profs. drive you like cattle! Be a hero! do not run! Trust not in profs., howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past be our guide! Act, act in the li ving Present! Never on a "pony" ride. Lives of great profs. all remind us 'Ve can make our lives much worse, And, departing, carry with us No tender regrets to nurse; / Regrets, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er the college main, A jolly and happy brother Feeling, shall lay down again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Fun for which we had to wait. 156