F.S.
Columbia Spectator.

Lines to a Monkey.

(After reading Darwin.)

It seems quite funny to reflect,
And yet what else could we expect
    (If Darwin’s true),
That my primeval grandmamma
And prehistoric grandpapa
    Looked just like you.

How any one could ever see
Relationship ’twixt you and me
    I can’t explain. 
You’re such an awkward little beast,
Your features are (to say the least)
    So very plain.

And since the rule’s considered poor
That doesn’t work both ways, I’m sure
    As I can be,
That ages hence, if earth endures,
Some distant relative of yours
    Will look like me.

HENRY RUTGERS CONGER.
Williams Literary Monthly.

Hymns Ancient And Modern.

ANCIENT.

Complexion like the winter snow,
Just tinted by the sunset glow,
  Throat white as alabaster,
Teeth of pearl, and hair of gold,
And figure—­sure in Venus’s mould
  Th’ immortal gods have east her.

And I am proud her slave to be,
And deem it high felicity
  To die, if she should will it so. 
Ye fates! to-night propitious be,
For I approach divinity: 
  My life depends on “Yes” or “No.”

MODERN.

Stunning girl,
  Out of sight. 
Guess I’ll pop
  Tuesday night. 
Bully shape,
  Pretty eyes;
Papa’s rich,
  Quite a prize.

Sure to have me,
  Can’t say no;
Lots of rocks—­
  It’s a go.

R. L. RAYMOND.
Harvard Lampoon.

Nightmare Of A Freshman Sign Swiper.

He turned and tossed upon his bed,
  Repose he could not find,
For all night long such things as these
  Kept coursing through his mind.

“Keep off the Grass,” and “Beer on Draught,”
  “H-O,” and “Pyle’s Pearline;”
“Look out for paint,” and “Use Pear’s Soap,”
  Were signs which he had seen.

And in the midst of all of these
  A demon seemed to dance,
Who asked him with a fiendish grin,
  “I say, ‘Do you wear pants?’”

W.D.  FLAGG.
Harvard Lampoon.

What the Wild Waves Said.

Do you hear the ocean moaning,
  Ever moaning sad and low? 
’Tis because that fat old bather
  Stepped upon its undertow.

University Herald.

A Decision.

  As a maid so nice,
  With step precise,
  Tripped o’er the ice,
She slipped; her care in vain. 
  And at the fall,
  With usual gall,
  The schoolboys call,
“Third down; two feet to gain.”

ARTHUR LLEWELLYN ENO.
Brunonian.

The Thorn that Guards.

Far in the corner on the stairs,
  We were sitting together, she and I;
The murmuring music was soft and low,
  Like zephyrs that float ’neath a summer sky.