CLASS-DAY-HARVARD-1873.

BANISHED be Bacchus and ivy; exiled Apollo and bays;

Nothing but beauty and roses bring to our dearest of days,-

Roses and beauty and sunshine, sparkle and lustre and bloom,

Shedding the freshness of Eden over each desolate room.

Throw aside Hamilton's gropings after a why and cause;

Shame on a man who could argue, beauty prescribing the Jaws.

Toss away cosine and secant; angles? 't is all a mistake;

Angels are what were intended, they the electives we take.

Horace alone, of the ancients, welcome we here as our guest;

He, with his garlands of myrtle, adds to our merriment's zest.

Plato may lie in the corner, folly in laughter he'd find;

E'en to the pleasures of Class Day Homer himself would be blind.

Mark how the oldest of buildings seem to grow young with surprise;

Finding their entries illumined, bright with the flash of fair eyes.

See how our elms, as a welcome, do all their standing allows;

Showing a graceful politeness in most super-elegant bows.

Then the delights of a corner, she you adore, and an ice;

Gloves, with whose keeping you 're trusted; (needless to say, in a trice,

One disappears, in a manner strangely suggestive of theft;

Isn't it wondrous, the value set on the one which is left?)

Blushes? Well, dancing is heating; blame the last waltz if you choose;

I'll never raise an objection' gainst such a capital ruse;

Only be careful of whispers; alcoves, though shaded, I fear Sometimes hold more than two persons,-double, you know,- "ma" might hear.

Cometh the evening and moonlight, whispering then is allowed;

Noise would disturb the musicians,-don't promenade in the crowd;

Dresses will surely be ruined, trampled by hurrying feet;

Stroll down the lane!-Is it really?-Oh! but the moments are fleet.

Carriages come, and fair faces smile for an instant, then fade

Into the darkness, and Class Day closeth for student and maid.

All that remains are its memories, ribbon or ringlet or rose;

Memories will treasured be ever; as for the others, who knows?

F. C. G.