Kansas University Weekly.
381
The Tornado.
All creatures fear thee, monster of the air.
And tremble at thy dull approaching tread.
Thy distant voice fills every heart with dread.
The wild beast cowers in his deepest lair.
At noon a fertile valley blossomed fair,
And in its lap a stately town lay spread.
Ere night the plain was strewn with mangled dead.
The marks of thy fierce hand were everywhere.
The works of man which fill his heart with pride Are merest toys, too fragile for thy play. The friends who walked this morning at our side Are pale in death before the close of day. The one who laughs and thinks no ills betide That very hour perchance is borne away.
Vigintennial Ode to the Class of '76.
(By E. B. Tucker, Classis Poeta.)
O June of Junes, fair month of seventy-six,
Thy balmy air once more we breath again,
Once more drink off the cup of life's fair morn
And revel in the loves and hopes of yore.
Let us forget the wrinkles and the frosts
Old Father Time has cast upon our brows
And for the nonce, in Oread's halls re-breathe
The flower-scented, dreamy summer air.
Ah me! how easily, how tenderly
Those mem'ries of the past come floating back
And twenty years seem but as yesterday.
Some trifle laid away may bring them up.
A lettered ribbon and a faded rose. Life's not a playground but a battle-field, And who the victory would win must strive Unceasingly. Though pressed with toils and cares Enshrined within our hearts will ever live The sacred mem'ries of those bygone days. Classmates—all hail—today let friendship's fire Burn clear, a greeting pass the circle round Of hearty love and fellowship for all. On this our twentieth anniversary. Long may the class of seventy-six be spared To do its work right nobly in the world, And. when at last from life we graduate. Be found at Heaven's Great Commencement Day.
And, Alma Mater, ever dear,
May blessings crown thee year by year,
Thy honors as thy nurslings multiply.
Thy praise be sounded to the sky. L.N.F.
The Hotel de Cranium: An Extravaganza.
There was a tired brain once who looked out of her cob-webby window in fear and trembling. She heard in the distance sounds she knew but too well. A Greek root and a Latin construction were approaching to take up their abode with her. She was overrun with Greek roots and Latin constructions already; they dominated everything; the poor brain could get no rest because of them.
As they entered she saw that her fears were well founded. Their looks and their luggage proclaimed that it would take no small amount
of labor and pain to get them satisfactorily lodged. They danced and pranced about the room in fiendish glee at the unfortunate brain's confusion, vehemently refusing to be placed in their proper category and go to sleep.
"Can't you keep still a moment Mr. G. root and tell me whether you are an Iota stem or a lengthened liquid? You Root family all resemble each other so much. How can I show you your room when I don't know your name and you won't register? This keeping a hotel on the classical system is a great mistake."
The Greek root, quite unabashed and unmoved by this pleading, gyrated wildly throughout the entire establishment, woke up several of his relatives who were safely asleep, and brought them out to have a share in the discussion.
Meanwhile the Latin construction clamorously demanded attention and yet refused to tell whether he was an Ablative of Source or of Accompaniment.
By this time the poor worn out brain had become hopelessly resigned to the inevitable, and sat staring vacantly out of the window. All at once something occurred that effectively aroused her interest and thrust the turmoil about her into the back-ground.
A thought was approaching, a beautiful, romantic, original thought that would result in quires of manuscript. The brain watched it, oh so anxiously. Would it come in? Or were the house and its inmates too uninviting? The thought opened the door, letting in a dim but delightful view of the outer brightness, but seeing the Greek root and the Latin construction engaged in hand-to-hand combat, shook its head and departed in search of more peaceful quarters.
Thoroughly overcome by her misfortunes the baffled brain went to bed and to sleep. Occasionally during the night a din of breaking furniture penetrated her oblivion, but she merely turned over and slept on.
A college Senior left his "mater's" wing And started forth to battle with the world. A goodly boy with downy mustache twirled— As much as could be, such a tiny thing. He fought and died of cruel hunger's sting, A monster new to this celestial boy. Then, freed from earth. he longed for heaven's joy, And flew away at heaven's door to ring; But, sad and weeping, he was turned away, For he'd rehearsed on Sunday for the Senior play.