Poetry

By Ring Lardner.

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Clever Class Poem

Up Learning’s ladder, round by round
We’ve climbed with many a fall;
But, through the toil, companionship
Has made amends for all.

Now from our giddy heights we glance,
With calm thoughts and serene,
Once more at those we leave today—
Our class of sweet sixteen.

I want to take you with me through
The ranks of our small crowd;
And, if you’ll listen carefully,
You’ll know why we are proud.

Grace, as our goodly president
Has served her second year;
In singing, speaking, poetry,
She stands without a peer.

Blanche is the sunshine of our class,
She drives dull care away
Her laughing eyes, her smiling face,
Have gladdened many a day.

Alice, the calm, the dignified,
I know we’ll ne’er forget;
Her views are wide—but, best of all,
She is the teacher’s pet.

Lena excels in whispering.
Few are the notes she writes;
She studies hard throughout the day,
For pleasure, saves her nights.

Belle was the star in physics class,
She always knew the laws
And when she failed to know a thing,
She always had a cause.

Anna has graced our piano stool,
And mingled tunes with laughter;
Ah, well, one can be young but once,
The frowns may come hereafter.

Ruth is a clever, pretty girl,
So everyone remarks,
Yet lives in constant danger—what?
The danger of her “Sparks.”

Will is the pride of all the girls,
The slave of every teacher,
When someone wants a window closed,
She calls on “Jube,” poor creature.

Clayt is the lad who’s in to win,
He is the teachers’ boy,
And though at times his face is sad,
His heart is full of “Joy.”

Gertie has made a record proud,
She seldom failed in class,
She studied hard these last four years
And well deserved to pass.

Bertha, the singer of our class,
How diligent she’s been!
She did her share of whispering,
But then that’s not a sin.

Bess is the class historian,
That office, well, she’ll fill.
She’s “Sortore” set in all her ways,
And has an iron “Will.”

Lawrence is the one who thinks
He’s been our comrade long;
His fav’rite stone, an “Opal” bright
He’s blest with an “Arm strong.”

Sweet Genevieve has worked and toiled,
Her honor’s justly won,
And every teacher in our school
Will say her work’s well “Dunn.”

And now there’s only one remains,
He should have come before;
His name is John, his hopes all lie
In a corner grocery store.

And now, I’ve mentioned everyone,
I hope no one feels slighted,
But if one does, let him approach,
His wrong will soon be righted.

At last your poet ends his lay,
He’s nothing more to tell,
But leaves the class of nineteen-one
With blessing and farewell.