 | The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod |  |
23
NOT A GRIN WAS SEEN
Not a grin was seen, not a giggle heard
As the Tutor breath'd his last
Not a Freshman uttered a jesting word
At the thought of labours past.
As the Tutor breath'd his last
Not a Freshman uttered a jesting word
At the thought of labours past.
On his old black board they laid him down
His head on torn [?] Algebras propping
While the light of his whiskers shone around
As they curled for want of cropping.
His head on torn [?] Algebras propping
While the light of his whiskers shone around
As they curled for want of cropping.
Not a coffin was given the Freshman's pest
Nor a hearse nor a cart was found him
But he lay like a tutor a taking his rest
With the loves [?] of his life around him.
Nor a hearse nor a cart was found him
But he lay like a tutor a taking his rest
With the loves [?] of his life around him.
| The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod | |