THE TASK

Twelve well-crammed lines, firm, juicy, marrowy, sweet,
No bone or trimmings, nothing here but meat,
With rhyme run through them like a golden skewer.
Taste might approve and patience may endure.

THE EXECUTION

Long live old Harvard! Lo, her rushing train
Greets a new sign-board stretched across the plain,
While the bell rings —(and that the bell shall do
Till Charles shall drop his worn-out channel through,)—
It gently hints to every our that barks,
Here comes the engine ,—don't you see the Sparks?

How changed the scene! The forest path is clear;
That mighty engine finds no Indian here!
The world's great teachers quit their native Alps
To fill the skulls once trembling for their scalps,
When the red neighbors or our ancient school
Let their own wig wams others' wigs to cool!