true to her colours are we, The learned may mock her and flout her, But surely we’ll rally about her, In the College that stands by the Sea!

p. 65

So here’s to her memory! here to The mystical Maiden drink we, We pledge her, and we’ll persevere too, Though the reason is not very clear to The critical mind, nor to me. Here’s to Kate! she’s our own, and she’s dear to The College that stands by the Sea.

p. 66DEATH IN JUNE

p. 66

FOR CRICKETERS ONLY

FOR CRICKETERS ONLY

June is the month of Suicides

Why do we slay ourselves in June, When life, if ever, seems so sweet? When “Moon,” and “tune,” and “afternoon,”  And other happy rhymes we meet, When strawberries are coming soon? Why do we do it?’ you repeat!

Why

Ah, careless butterfly, to thee The strawberry seems passing good; And sweet, on Music’s wings, to flee Amid the waltzing multitude, And revel late—perchance till three—  For Love is monarch of thy mood!

p. 67Alas! to us no solace shows For sorrows we endure—at Lord’s, When Oxford’s bowling always goes For ‘fours,’ for ever to the cords— Or more, perhaps, with ‘overthrows’;—  These things can pierce the heart like swords!

p. 67

And thus it is though woods are green, Though mayflies down the Test are rolling, Though sweet, the silver showers between, The finches sing in strains consoling, We cut our throats for very spleen, And very shame of Oxford’s bowling!

p. 68TO CORRESPONDENTS

p. 68

My Postman, though I fear thy tread, And tremble as thy foot draws nearer, ’Tis not the Christmas Dun I dread, My mortal foe is much severer,— The Unknown Correspondent, who, With undefatigable pen, And nothing in the world to do, Perplexes literary men.

My

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