Halcyon . d to the dining-room. To reverence tuned, the bell oft rings, Subdued and peaceful strain,A harbinger of perfect peace,An hour of quiet and release, A rest for the tired brain. Responsive to the wild hurrahsThat arreet our athletes grand. The bell proclaims the victory ours,And quick the light from bonfire towersAfar oer all the land. And then on Whittier Field appears A weird unearthly wagon drawn by sturdy ladsAre Profs, and team of foot-ball Bathed in the bonfires light. A stormy clang from the belfry tower In the stillness deep of night,A story tells of the ruin
Halcyon . d to the dining-room. To reverence tuned, the bell oft rings, Subdued and peaceful strain,A harbinger of perfect peace,An hour of quiet and release, A rest for the tired brain. Responsive to the wild hurrahsThat arreet our athletes grand. The bell proclaims the victory ours,And quick the light from bonfire towersAfar oer all the land. And then on Whittier Field appears A weird unearthly wagon drawn by sturdy ladsAre Profs, and team of foot-ball Bathed in the bonfires light. A stormy clang from the belfry tower In the stillness deep of night,A story tells of the ruin wroughtBy the fiery fiend as it shoots aloft, A monarch in its might. As twilight gathers on the Crum, Old Bell, why not keep quiet ?We want to skate, you know we then retire from public view, And let our hearts run riot. While sinks the sun neath Swarthmore hills While flows the Crums pure neer forget the lessons taught,Well oft recall the message broughtBy the Bell of Alma Mater. 193. fiD^ moc5 How do we go a-swimming? Thats not very hard to say;We jump into our running suits In the early part of May. We run down to the water,A beautiful color of green,— The most inviting bathing placeThat ever vou have seen. We dive, we splash, we absorb it,This liquid of emerald hue. We get out and look just like Freshmen,So green are we through and through. A FOGGY November morning, A room as cold as a cross as the mischief— Hash enhances the gloom. A long Greek lesson unstudied, A million letters to write,Somebody whistling Haverford songs Learned from her beau last night. No mail—and the shadows deepenWhen a maid, irritatingly bright. Reminds me of Halcyon meeting, Have you got yours done for to-night? Then with pencil and sorrow and paper,And a heart full of utter despair, I set out for the Alligator, Where I rage and tear my-hair. Then, in anguish and dull lead pencil. My grievances sore I write,Quorum causa. Mister Editor, Maynt I be excused t
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidhalcyon1905u, bookyear1905
