 | Fantasy and Passion |  |
THE SCHOLAR'S SWEETHEART.
All day he toils, with zeal severe,
On something learnedly polemic;
From Harvard he returned last year,
With bounteous honors academic.
His parents name him but in praise,
His little sisters quite adore him,
And all the loving household lays
Allegiance willingly before him!
On something learnedly polemic;
From Harvard he returned last year,
With bounteous honors academic.
His parents name him but in praise,
His little sisters quite adore him,
And all the loving household lays
Allegiance willingly before him!
What forms his labor, week by week?
They could not understand—oh, never!
'Tis something eminently Greek,
'Tis something intricately clever!
But still his task, unfinished yet,
He shapes with industry unflagging,
And writes his treatise that shall set
The heads of noted pundits wagging!
They could not understand—oh, never!
'Tis something eminently Greek,
'Tis something intricately clever!
But still his task, unfinished yet,
He shapes with industry unflagging,
And writes his treatise that shall set
The heads of noted pundits wagging!
Is it of Homer's doubtful lines?
Or yet some question, subtly finer,
Of whether certain famous wines
Were first obtained from Asia Minor?
Is it of dialects impure?
Is it some long-fought rule of grammar?
Is it old Sanscrit roots obscure?
Is it that wearisome digamma?
Or yet some question, subtly finer,
Of whether certain famous wines
Were first obtained from Asia Minor?
140
Is it some long-fought rule of grammar?
Is it old Sanscrit roots obscure?
Is it that wearisome digamma?
But whether this or whether that,
Through fragrant fields, when work is ended,
While darkly wheels the zigzag bat
And all the West is warmly splendid,
He steals to meet, in loving wise,
With eager steps that do not tarry,
A rosy girl whose shining eyes
Grow tender as she calls him “Harry.”
Through fragrant fields, when work is ended,
While darkly wheels the zigzag bat
And all the West is warmly splendid,
He steals to meet, in loving wise,
With eager steps that do not tarry,
A rosy girl whose shining eyes
Grow tender as she calls him “Harry.”
What altered thoughts can she awake,
This pearl of sweethearts, best and fairest!
And what a contrast does she make
To ‘comments on the Second Aorist’!
So strongly round him can she throw
Her dazzling spells of sweet retention,
'Tis doubtful now if he could go
Correctly through his first declension!
This pearl of sweethearts, best and fairest!
And what a contrast does she make
To ‘comments on the Second Aorist’!
So strongly round him can she throw
Her dazzling spells of sweet retention,
'Tis doubtful now if he could go
Correctly through his first declension!
For while near mossy meadow-bars,
With spirit thrilled by sacred pleasures,
He lingers till the dawn of stars,
He lingers by the girl he treasures,
This grave young scholar scarcely knows
If Hector was a fighting seaman,
If lofty Pindar wrote in prose,
Or Athens lay in Lacedaemon!
With spirit thrilled by sacred pleasures,
He lingers till the dawn of stars,
He lingers by the girl he treasures,
This grave young scholar scarcely knows
If Hector was a fighting seaman,
If lofty Pindar wrote in prose,
Or Athens lay in Lacedaemon!
| Fantasy and Passion | |