A few days more, and Smintheus sadly leaves
Columbia's halls and hypothetic bowers: -
To go unblessed by thee, his pensive spirit grieves.
There was a time, not many years ago,
When you stood forth in all your pride and pork,
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Wagging your head, censorious, to and fro;
And, lofty as some literary stork,
You styled Columbia, "Ah-don't you know-
A minor institution in New York."
You never do so now; methinks you show
You've learned 'tis wise to drop such terrorizing talk!
Yet if, at times, I've made a verbal spurt,
Piercing with pen your queer conceit's cuirass,-
Great Heavens! what an avalanche of dirt
You've hurled upon me in a single mass!
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Class of '91.
