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From the Mailbag

Two Poems

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

To the Editors of the CRIMSON:

I am enclosing two verses, hoping you might consider them for publication in the CRIMSON.

REALITY

The Establishment, under duress,

Will never (they say) acquiesce.

But is it the time to be picky and choosy?

The time for rigidity now, Nathan Pusey?

Or time to admit that you're fainting and woozy?

And time to accept SDS?

UP THE GOWN STAIRCASE

Hung up in the Ivory Tower,

Scholars contemplate and glower

Down upon the little people

Shuffling by beneath their steeple.

The bottom of the Tower's crammed

With pseudo-scholars who have shammed

And wriggled in to gain a seat

Among the literate elite,

Assured of academic status,

They roam the sacred Tower gratis,

And with some luck, a publication

Might bring further elevation.

Their goal? The Ivory Tower's apex,

And a Full Professor's paychecks.

But who would choose to be in their place,

Up a Tower short of heirspace? Michael M. Stewart, MD '65 MPH.

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