ALL alone in a high-studded chamber,
A pale, sad student sat,
While the winds of a bleak November
Came moaning o'er the flat.
And he thought, as he quaffed the crystal,
How when Freshman - a hopeful child -
(Here he snatched up a pocket-pistol,
Then he pointed it grimly and - smiled), -
How at first 't was his modest ambition
To get ninety per cent, or yet more;
And his next, to escape a condition;
Then - to number the Chapel front-door.
He remembered the words of a croaker,
Who had groaned in his Sophomore year,
'Mid the charms of the blind goddess POKER,