My Mary Hicks
Osroe's knocking at thy door,
Just as he's knocked so oft before,
Doesn't he become a bore?
For he keeps coming 'more and more,
And he's calling as of yore,
"Mary Hicks, my Mary Hicks."
Listen to his sweet...
A Junior's Lament
Where? Oh, where, is that old class?
They're gone, they're gone, alas, alas!
Once m,ore they waken in my breast
The thoughts of school, of thoughts the best.
Once more I hear and see and trace
That happy bunch, also each face,