On the occasion of the fiftieth reunion of his class he wrote a poem. (There were other poems for other reunions - I'll have to gather them all eventually)
Those Hopeful Oldsters
So now it's full two score and ten
Of episodic years since when
The gallant crew of Ninety-nine
Did sally forth to rise and shine.
To battle on the fields of strife
And learn the mystery of life.
Full armed with crackling parchment each
Did look for things within his reach,
For what to seize and what to do
And what ambition to pursue.
Full armed with Prexy Timothy is homily,
With Irvie Fisher's fancy formulae,
With Billy Sumner's pregnant facts,
And Billy Phelps's lively tracts,
Full stocked with academic lore
They gazed upon the distant shore
Where hung the plume of light and win,
To combat evil, conquer sin.
Full armed with varied erudition
In the best old Yale tradition.
And as the rapid years rolled on
Two wars have come and two have gone
(Or nearly so, I dare to say,
I haven't read the news today.)
One war to stop the next that came
Another war to do the same.
And now of course we're better off,
A fact at which some cynics scoff.
We've learned to hate a lot since then.
We've learned to hate and love again.
We've learned to ride in motor cars.
We've learned the way of cocktail bars.
We've learned to soar the atmosphere.
Without a doubt or single fear.
We've weathered Prohibition's joke.
Our women folks have learned to smoke.
We've mastered bridge, likewise gin rummy,
And all the joys of double dummy.
We've witnessed pictures start to move
And talk and teach the art of love,
And then from Hollywood of course
We've learned the value of divorce.
We've learned to golf, we've learned to ski.
We've learned about the fickle she.
We've learned to foxtrot, learned to jive.
We've seen the radio come alive.
We've met a lot of varied jerks.
We've gone the limit, shot the works.
We've had a lot of great adventures,
Such as getting our new dentures.
And some are here and some are there
And some have left this scene of care.
And some are thin and some are stout,
And all are gray as all get out.
Arteriosclerosis grim
Has slowed the pace of many a limb.
We've looped the loop, we've fed the kitty.
We've tried the country, tried the city.
When the teeth fall out and the cheeks fall in,
When the nose grows down to meet the chin,
When wrinkled phiz looks like a griddle,
And comes a bulge in the old south middle,
When the old pump lags with weakened beat
And skimps the blood to hands and feet,
When bladders, kidneys, livers, lights
Disturb the days and vex the nights,
When sundry things like these and those
Demand attention, swell our woes,
Why then to all it doth occur
We're not as young as we once were.
But even so, you'll all agree
We're not as old as we hope to be.
(Presented by the author at the 50th Reunion of the Yale Class of 1899. June 1949)
This was the same year and month as the wedding of Anna and Ollie Jones.
