Accompanied by Cousin Lu,
So, though my "piece at sight" was done,
I thought I'd cut my Latin 2.
And when the bell its warning peal
Rang out upon the noontide air,
I hastened through the crowded Yard,
And stood by the Professor's chair.
"This morning, I'm obliged to cut;
I'm very sorry, sir, indeed."
I gave him then my written work,
And watched him spread it out and read.
A chuckle rises to his lips,
A merry twinkle's in his eye,
And each line in his kindly face
Is bubbling o'er with jollity.
He hands my folded paper back,
Remarking, "Though we all may know
Your theme's as old as R me itself,
We can't take this for Cicero."
What! "Lines to Lucy's Nut-brown Hair."
That's lain perdu since last July;
I wrote it for that little flirt
I met last summer down at Rye.