The Dude (Prize Poem)

     

                                   THE DUDE.

 

                                         (Prize Poem.)

 

’Twas springtime in the quaint old town, tho’ somewhat raw and bleak,

And stormy winds still beat the panes with dismal howl and shriek;

And from the Northward mountain peaks the snow came melting down,

Swelling the river to a race, which madly passed the town.

A youth warm-clad in fashion’s garb alighted from the stage; –

An invalid he looked to be, of wealthy parentage,

Who sought to find a boarding place within the town remote,

Where to restore his broken health in forest, field and boat.

The village folk were good of heart and kindly as a rule,

But looked on fashion as a thing to scoff and ridicule;

So when the natty college youth at front doors did appear,

He met the same forbidding words, “No dudes are wanted here.”

 

    *               *               *               *               *            *

The day grew faint, the rain still beat, and high above the town

A dam gave way, and in the swirl huge wreckage floated down;

And through the dusk someone discerned a cabin drifting by,

On which a child lay helplessly with hands stretched toward the sky.

An eager crowd rushed to the bank, no boat was near at hand,

When lo, a stranger from the rear with lightning movements shed

His outer clothes and plunged the stream with naught of fear or dread.

With rapid strokes he reached the babe the while the people cheered;

A score of hands were reaching down when he the dark shore neared.

And when they drew him up the bank, beneath the lantern rude,

A cry of great surprise went up – it was the college dude!

Strong, loving hands bore him away, and by his side for weeks

Kind hearts held watch, till come again the health-glow lit his cheeks.

And when he greets the fair old town, where he sojourns each year,

They wring his hand and nobly say, “Such dudes are wanted here.”

 

                                                               (undated)