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Undergraduate Literary Exercises in Sanders Theatre.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

Their sober minds unto the college-mill,

Though now they do not go in ruff or frill.

Behold the modern Puritan, his talk

Is all of matters grave, his face sedate,

He moves and 'tis a most majestic stalk,

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His flashing eye could rule a troubled state,

He yearns to serve his country, and meanwhile

For college offices has no distaste;

And yet, forsooth, let him provoke no smile,

'Tis only sad that in our age he's placed

And that so much stern virtue goes to waste.

And those young princes of the native race

Whom our fore-fathers vainly tried to tame,

Does haze that fills the distant years efface

Their savage splendor, or does it still flame

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