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Verses

(Supposed to have been written by J.—, during his solitary abode in a higher plane. With apologies to the poet Cowper.)

I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute,
From the tennis courts up to C3,
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Oh, Executive! great are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face!
In spite of extravs. and alarms,
I shall reign in this comfortable place.

The freshers that frisk where they can
My form with indifference see,
They are so unacquainted with man
Their tameness is shocking to me.
I shall move from humanity's reach
And go to my armchair alone,
To ponder upon my next speech
Till it rivals Prof. Florance's own.

I am rather a dog with the girls—
They adore me for being what I am;
You should see them arranging their curls
Before we go forth in my pram.
My sorrows I oft thus assuage,
For my melancholy search after truth
Has taught me the wisdom of age,
With contempt for the sallies of youth.

I have banished the roughs from my door,
And the key is fast turned in the lock,
The mob shall not trample my floor—
Only those in my own little flock.
Each student has gone to his rest,
Each professor is off to his lair,
I feel I am not at my best—
I shall to the Austin repair.