Love presided o'er the game.
Finally, in Jennie's corner,
Stood her only man at bay;
Battling nobly for deliverance,
'Gainst the enemy's array.
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Ah, 't was but a useless struggle!
Pressed the foeman fierce and hard,
Till at last the only outlet
For escape was closed and barred.
Half caressingly, her fingers
Rested on the checker then,
While the rascal Dick bent over
And surveyed his conquering men;
And his hazel eyes grew softer,
As his gaze upon it fell, -
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Typhoid at Yale.
