Return again, thou Freshman's year,
When bloom was on the rye,
When breakfast came with bottled beer,
When Pleasure walked the High;
When Torpid Bumps were more by far
To every opening mind
Than Trade, or Shares, or Peace, or War,
To senior humankind;
When ribbons of outrageous hues
Were worn with honest pride,
When much was talked of boats and crews,
When Proctors were defied:
When Tick was in its early bloom,
When Schools were far away,
As vaguely distant as the tomb,
Nor more regarded — they!
When arm was freely linked with arm
Beneath the College limes,
When Sunday grinds possessed a charm
Denied to College Rhymes:
When ices were in much request
Beside the April fire,
When men were very strangely dressed
By Standen or by Prior.
Return, ye Freshman's Terms! They DO
Return, and much the same,
To boys, who, just like me and you,
Play the absurd old game!