In mazy circles through the frosty air,
Like silky down torn from a wild swan's breast,
We see the fleecy crystals with a sigh
Of strange, sweet sorrow, knowing that no more
For weary months, and maybe nevermore
For us, shall light of Indian Summer cast
Upon the mellow earth its magic spell."
These last quotations show, I think, a pleasing contrast to the first. The poems from which they are taken have a sufficient excuse for existence, and to my untrained taste are better than many pieces that appear in our best magazines.
Undergraduate poetry may be divided into the sentimental and the witty. The sentimental is often well expressed, but is generally trashy; the witty is more likely to be good of its kind. It usually contains too many college allusions to interest any but students, yet it adds to the jollity of student life, and taking the form of satire often lodges a keen shaft where it will do the most good.
I SAT awhile at eventide to-day,
In the still darkness of the hemlock wood,
And listened to the oft unnoticed hum
That filled the air. Before me sloped the bank
Down to a ferny flat. On either side
The solemn hemlocks rose, whose misty gloom
Read more in News
Special Notices.
