Page 93 - 1930 Hartridge

TEnPDRRETNDRES
Academic Prize Poem
Once within a schoolhouse dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary. Over many a dogeared volume of fatiguing Latin lore.
While I nodded, all but napping, down the hall there came a tapping
As of high heels loudly rapping, rapping on the hollow floor,
“ 'Tis some day girl,” low I muttered, “coming down that ancient floor;
' Only this and nothing more.)\}
N ow in this dear seminary, in the month of January
’Tis an ancient honored custom to prepare as ne’er before. Yesterday, today, tomorrow—vainly we have sought to gather
Knowledge of the different subjects that we should have learned before. Of the great amounts of knowledge that we should have got before.
Lost to us forevermore.
Then I turned to see more clearly whom I thought a day girl merely. There a teacher stood austerely glaring at us from the door.
Not the slightest pausing made she, not a minute stopped or stayed she.
But in accents wise and sage, she spoke thus loudly, “ Heretofore If you failed examinations, re-exams saved you.
But, my children, nevermore!”
\[over. What? No Re’s? A mournful whimper! Salty tears our eyes brimmed
And we all grew limp and limper with our eyes upon the floor. Our smooth brows of alabaster soon resembled wrinkled plaster
Ph'om this unforeseen disaster, till our minds one burden bore, We can’t have our re-exams, as in those days of yore.
No more Re’s! No! Nevermore!
And the teacher, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On that little wooden platform raised above the inky floor.
Desolate, yet all undaunted— can’t we have the re’s we wanted? In this hall by Horror haunted—tell us truly, we implore,
(live us re-examinations—Please, dear teacher, we implore. Croaked the teacher “Nevermore!” *
W’ith apologies to Poe.
H.F.,’3 2
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