ALMA MATER
He knocked, and I beheld him at the door—
A vision for the gods to verify.
"What battered ancientry is this," thought I,
And when, if ever, did we meet before?"
But ask him as I might, I got no more
For answer than a moaning and a cry:
Too late to parley, but in time to die,
He staggered, and lay shapeless on the floor.
[95]
