I know you, Edward Olney, Sir,
You pine among your roots and powers;
The rolling light of your red eyes
Is weary of the languid hours.
'Mid wondering trains, with boundless brains,
But sickening of a vague disease,
You know so ill to factor time,
You needs must play such pranks as these.
Edward, Edward Olney, Sir,
If time hangs heavy on your hands,
Are there no hinges off your gate,
Nor any weeds upon your lands?
Oh, teach your little girl to bake,
Or teach your little boy to hoe!
Pray heaven for a human heart,
And let the foolish freshmen go.
GEOLOGY MADE EASY.
"Write me then
As one who loves his fellowmen."
I TELL a tale which makes me pale
For its dismal recollections,
That coming classes may avail
Themselves of its inflections.
