They both make a roaring—a roaring all night,
They both are a fisherman-father’s delight,
They are both, when in fury, a terrible sight!
The First nurses tenderly three little hulls
To the lullaby-music of shrill-screaming gulls
And laughs when they dimple his face with their skulls.
The Second’s a tidyish sort of a lad,
Who behaves pretty well to a man he calls “Dad,”
And earns the remark “Well, he isn’t so bad!”
Of the two put together, oh what shall I say?
’Tis a time when “to live” means the same as “to play”
When the busiest person does nothing all day:
When the grave College Don, full of lore inexpressi-
ble, puts it all by, and is forced to confess he
Can think but of Agnes and Evey——.