The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/Our Camp-Fire Girls

by Jonathan E. Hoag

Our Camp-Fire Girls

Alas, how swiftly years have flown!
From babyhood how swiftly grown;
Pink ribbons deck blithe, curly hair,
And romping, clattering everywhere,
O happy children, innocent, free,
As little birds in leafy tree;
Hear their shrill laughter on the green,
Each artless nymph a little queen.

Our Campfire Girls in Greenwich High,
Can hit the buckskin on the fly;
Can kick a pigskin o'er the goal,
Or send a hard-head down the Bowl;
From spring-board turn a handspring fine,
Or cast a fly with rod and line.
Can swim or dive in Hedge's Lake,
With oar and paddle progress make;
Down the Pavilion dance a jig,
Or whirl in waltz with small or big;
Can run an auto with one hand,
Can scorch the pike to beat the band.
Our Campfire Girls, erect, unique,
They part their hair at "right oblique;"
Can flirt a bit just on the sly,
Can sing or dance in ecstasy;
Can punish ice-cream by the plate,
And laugh or frolic jubilate.

And now our Campfire Girls are all
Scattered in many a college hall!
Cicero, Virgil, midnight hours—
O for the home 'midst shady bowers!
See! see! the midnight oil burns low,
And clocks upon the mantel show,
How well the tales of classic wit
These modern Amazons can fit!

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