Tell me, President, Harvard, is she all she ought to be?
As the President is, Harvard is, thou art all that we can boast
Was it wise, a Grecian temple, builded on a gilded coast?"
It may be our friends were weary anxious to complete the plan
Mating George the first with Florence in the architects' elan.
Enough that thou and I were lying to excuse Memorial's face
Should we cringe before this also Harvard's last and worst disgrace.
Cursed be the sickly forms that err from honest Nature's rule
Cursed be the gold that gilds the straiten'd forehead of the fool. (1)
Am I mad that I should tarry next to such grotesquerie
I will blast it in my columns safe behind my luxury.
Where is comfort? in cross-section? 'Tis a president's idle word
How can man be individual and yet mingle with the herd?
And the room rents, Oh Comptroller, come and have a look at these
Every door is barr'd with gold and opens but to golden keys.
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CERCLE FRANCAIS PLAY TO BE GIVEN WEDNESDAY
