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The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe

Household Edition : with illustrations

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A COLLEGE REMINISCENCE.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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A COLLEGE REMINISCENCE.

ADDRESSED TO THOMAS B. THORPE, ESQ., OF NEW ORLEANS.

Dear Tom, have you forgot the day
When, long ago, we used to stray
Among the “Haddams”?
Where, in the mucky road, a man
(The road was built on Adam's plan,
And not McAdam's!)
Went down—down—down, one stormy night,
And disappeared from human sight
All save his hat,—
Which raised in sober minds a sense
Of some mysterious Providence
In sparing that?
I think 't will please you, Tom, to hear
The man who in that night of fear
Went down terrestrial,
Worked out a passage like a miner,
And, pricking through somewhere in China,
Came up Celestial!
Ah! those were memorable times,
And worth embalming in my rhymes,
When, at the summons
Of chapel bell, we left our sport
For lessons most uncommon short,
Or shorter commons!
I mind me, Tom, you often drew
Nice portraits, and exceeding true—
To your intention!
The most impracticable faces
Discovered unsuspected graces,
By your invention.
On brainless heads the finest bumps
(Erected by your pencil-thumps)
Were plainly seen;
Your Yankees all were very Greek,
Unchosen aunts grew “choice antique,”
And blues turned green!
The swarthy suddenly were fair,
And yellow changed to auburn hair
Or sunny flax;
And people very thin and flat,
Like Aldermen grew round and fat
On canvas-backs!
I well remember all your art
To make the best of every part,—
I am certain no man
Could better coax a wrinkle out,
Or elevate a lowly snout,
Or snub a Roman!
Young gentlemen with leaden eyes
Stared wildly out on lowering skies,
Quite Corsair-fashion;
And greenish orbs got very blue,
And linsey-woolsey maidens grew
Almost Circassian!
And many an ancient maiden aunt
As lean and lank as John O'Gaunt,
Or even lanker,
By art transformed and newly drest,
Could boast for once as full a chest
As—any banker!
Ah! we were jolly youngsters then,
But now we 're sober-sided men,
Half through life's journey;
And you 've turned author, Tom, I hear,—
And I—you'll think it very queer—
Have turned attorney!

46

Heaven bless you, Tom, in house and heart!
(That we should live so far apart
Is much a pity,)
And may you multiply your name,
And have a very “crescent” fame,
Just like your city!