The Junior StoodStood waiting for his maiden fair; He softly swore, and did berate The Prof. who keeps his classes late; The class rushed by, but patient there The Junior stood. He looks aloft with restless air; She comes, the maid with golden hair, At last. He needs no longer wait. She meets another up the stair; She gives her books into his care; She never turns, but passes straight. Then grinding hard his teeth with hate And gazing through the vacant air, The Junior stood! ___Perlee R. Bennett
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