The record of the class of 1914 . y—mind you. I dont sav it would l>e -;o. onlv perlia])s why—•why—(his oicc trails az^.av and is lost). (During this Mr. Lifl^iiianii lias loohcd iicrroiisly at his anj lie noii. leans uvcr and iinbliisliinglvdizrsts himself of his boots. He now thrusts his feet into his /^iiinf^s, and pref^ares to put on his top eoat). Mr. L.—Well, gentlemen, its really been fearfully decent of you to have asked me over, andthanks awfully. But really. Im afraid that I cant stay any longer, for Im booked for a dinner dance intown, and if I stay another moment Ill mi
The record of the class of 1914 . y—mind you. I dont sav it would l>e -;o. onlv perlia])s why—•why—(his oicc trails az^.av and is lost). (During this Mr. Lifl^iiianii lias loohcd iicrroiisly at his anj lie noii. leans uvcr and iinbliisliinglvdizrsts himself of his boots. He now thrusts his feet into his /^iiinf^s, and pref^ares to put on his top eoat). Mr. L.—Well, gentlemen, its really been fearfully decent of you to have asked me over, andthanks awfully. But really. Im afraid that I cant stay any longer, for Im booked for a dinner dance intown, and if I stay another moment Ill miss the Oh! by the way. Dr. Jabbitt, youll l)e passing Lloydand I really wont need these boots on such a warm night. Could I just bother vou to run them up to myrooms. If John there just chuck them in the closet. Ill look you all u]) later on. My regards to thePresident. Sorry I cant stay. Good-night. (Exit.) Prof. Breed—Why. why, o cose— Relentless Rudoljih—Well. Ill come, lets have Sangree. (Curtain.). 14g F UEnvoi (An adaptation of the mystic poem used by R. Tagore) AREWELL, brother, our time has come to part. Four years in the daily round of duty, have we toiled and rejoiced. The past has been beautiful; we feel its force. The Present we hold but as a drop of dew struck by the morning sun. The Future is expectant prismed, spectrum-like, in the knowledg-e of lessons the blossoming garden we gather fragrant memories of vanished the joy of our hearts we feel the living joy that oft sang heart to heart. Farewell, brother, out from our finite selves we grow; Our college days droop toward their sunset to be drowned in golden shadows. The hours trip rapidly away, hiding our aspirations in their skirts. Our life is short; it yields but a few days of love. Were it but to work how dull and eternally long life would be. But life is not the one old burden, our path is not one long journey. So the joy of our heart l)i(ls still to live t
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjecthaverfo, bookyear1914
