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A CLASS POEM.

READ AT THE JUNIOR CLASS SUPPER.

Genius, too long repressed, then sought for fame:

We won the second place in that year's race,

Though that was not a thing to lay much stress on.

IV.

The trials of the early Junior year

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Need not to be particularly dwelt on;

But note - last Saturday did scarce appear

When every student flushed to Boston rushed,

From digs in College House to swells in Felton.

V.

On fire with eager hope and anxious fear

The poet saddled soon his prancing horse-car,

And to the wall of Beacon Street drew near,

Where Harvard's "Lardy Dahs" with loud hurrahs

Showed each one thought his own class had the boss tar.

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