News

Cambridge Residents Slam Council Proposal to Delay Bike Lane Construction

News

‘Gender-Affirming Slay Fest’: Harvard College QSA Hosts Annual Queer Prom

News

‘Not Being Nerds’: Harvard Students Dance to Tinashe at Yardfest

News

Wrongful Death Trial Against CAMHS Employee Over 2015 Student Suicide To Begin Tuesday

News

Cornel West, Harvard Affiliates Call for University to Divest from ‘Israeli Apartheid’ at Rally

MY QUEST.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

I LAID me down in the Fairy Ring,

Pillowed by fairy stone;

A bat brushed by on its dusky wing,

And I was left alone;

I slept, and in dreams a fairy hand

Beckoned me on to the Elfin land.

Hidden away from the realms of day,

Deep in the rock-ribbed earth,

Are caverns whose walls of sombre gray

Bear gems of priceless worth, -

Caverns whose echoes echo again;

There the king of the elves doth reign.

The floors are broad and the vaults are high;

Fairy-craft made them so.

Diamond stars in a turquoise sky,

Emerald fields below;

A silver stream on a golden strand, -

Such are the treasures of Elfin land.

The king sits high on his throne therein,

His courtiers ranged around;

A pompous young chamberlain leads me in,

And bows him to the ground.

How the queer little people open their eyes,

To see a beast of such wondrous size!

Some slight formalities are o'er;

Then follows the king's decree,

Which those acquainted with Scottish lore

Know equally well with me.

Whoso sleeps in the Fairy Ring

Must aye be slave to the Elfin king.

He aye must serve in the Elf-king's fear,

Unless, by some chance, he can

Discover on earth, or far or near,

One thoroughly happy man.

"And is this all?" perchance you ask.

Listen, nor think it an easy task.

My body shrunk to the Elfin size,

My face to the Elfin grin;

And merrily sparkled my little green eyes,

And sharper grew nose and chin.

Forth I went, and straight began

To search for the unknown happy man.

I went to the rich, and great, and grand,

But never a one found I;

Scatter your gold with lavish hand,

Content you may not buy;

Fleeting the joy that power adorns,

And a crown oft-times is a crown of thorns.

I went to the low, despised, and poor;

For there we are often told,

Happiness dwells mid folk obscure,

Undazzled by glare of gold.

Nothing but hunger, sorrow, and care,

Vice and misery, everywhere.

I went to the young who pined for joys

The future might have in store;

Older, they find that pleasure cloys,

Then mourn for the days of yore.

The good lamented some trifling sin,

The wicked chafed at restraint therein.

I went where our Congress doth adjourn,

Duly, from day to day;

And granteth sums which somehow return,

Like the bread that floats away.

But all are nervous, - frightened, in fact.

A thief is not happy when caught in the act.

I went to a famous college. "And there,"

Quoth I, "one may surely meet

Some fortunate youth, untroubled by care,

Merry and yet discreet.

Sure, on jollity's chosen ground

There may the happy man be found."

I hurried about from room to room,

But never a word of cheer

Heard I; each countenance, wrapped in gloom,

Suggested exceeding fear.

And many did groan and moan and sigh,

For Semi-Annuals were nigh.

Tutors mourned that the days had not

Some hundreds of hours more;

Obtaining three dollars for each, their lot

Would be brighter than ever before.

But time and tide heed no advice,

And the tutor can only advance his price.

I turn in despair to leave the scene,

Disheartened, weary, and sad;

When a tall young Proctor, of stately mien,

Passes with smile so glad

That I cry straightway, "I have found my man,"

And follow as fast as my small legs can.

He climbs full many a steep, stone stair,

He enters a large, long room;

There sits a party with grizzled hair, -

Some officer, I presume.

The tall young Proctor, smiling again,

Sits down and writes with a rapid pen : -

"Whittington, Junior, Matthews, -,

Doubtless with bad intention,

Dodged a snowball, for which mad prank

I recommend suspension."

The Proctor laughs with uproarious glee ;-

The spell is broken, and I am free.

C. A. M.

Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.

Tags