AT THE COLLEGE SPORTS.

HEIGHO for the morning, murky and dark, When, heedless of threatening cloud, I ventured to visit the green College park, And mingled along with the crowd. I am almost now on insanity’s brink, And this I attribute to Either a fairy attired in pink Or an angel whose robe was blue. The world considered my heart was flint, And futile were womanly wiles— Sigh and ogle, whisper and hint, Glances and glittering smiles. I meant, uncontrolled by the marital link, My journey of life to go through, But in those days I hadn’t met beauty in pink, To say nothing of beauty in blue. I’ve had thirty odd years of a bachelor’s life, Bachelor’s buttons and fare; And escaped all the bankruptcy, troubles, and strife That Benedicts weepingly share. But to-night I believe that I scarcely would shrink To join the Hymeneal crew, If the ship were controlled by a captain in pink Or a lovely commander in blue. I didn’t go, like the mob, to the place For frivolous chatter and talk; I was interested in every race, Jump and hurdle and walk; Yet when all was over I’m hanged but I think— Of course it can hardly be true— That the quarter was won by a sprinter in pink, And the mile by a stayer in blue. It’s over now, and I feel quite wise, For I mean in futurity’s days When I go to races to cover my eyes With glasses to temper my gaze, Lest my heart intoxicant draughts should drink Of Cupid’s ambrosial dew, Supplied by a nymph in bewildering pink Or equally dangerous blue.