ON University I stand,

And cast a longing eye,

On Matthews' massive pile of bricks,

Where my possessions lie.

Between us rolls a mighty flood

Of muddy slush and snow;

Unless I trust me to its waves

My rooms I must forego.

The heads of struggling sinners bob

Upon each tossing crest;

Some sink exhausted in the strife, -

The waves they cannot breast.

Some reach at last the promised shore,

But sink exhausted down;

The breakers' harsh and deafening roar

Their shouts of triumph drown.