THERE was a sound of revelry by night,
And Harvard's Senior Class had gathered then
The flower of all her scholarship, - and bright
The lamps shone o'er her hardest-grinding men.
Phi Beta Kappa's heart beat happily, and when
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Lips that had kissed the Muses oft of yore
Sipped lemonade, and sipped and sipped again,
Each got as tipsy as a Sophomore,
And made such music as was never made before.
Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And in hot haste the throng did wildly press;
From Young's Hotel these bold bad men did go,
And smiled at thought of their own wickedness;
For they 'd fain walk to Cambridge, - nothing less.
Holding each other up, along they reeled,
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The Yale and Second Regiment Games.
