The College Widow Poem by George Ade

When I was but a Freshman — and that was long ago —
I saw her first, but did not learn her name.
She was at a lecture, I believe, in the first or second row,
And the Junior with her seemed to be her flame.

He held her fan all evening and gazed into her eyes;
Thought I, ' Now they're engaged, or soon will be;'
But afterward they quarreled, as I learned with some surprise,
When the faculty conferred on him G. B.

That very spring a rumor in the college circles spread,
That a Senior had her young affections snared,
And after he had graduated then the two would wed;
'Twas even said her trousseau was prepared.
It didn't come to pass at all; when I returned next fall,
She had a young professor on the string;
He used to send her flowers, and frequently would call,
And kindly turn her music when she'd sing.

The prof received an offer from some college in the east,
And left quite unexpectedly one day;
Within a week the charmer wasn't grieving in the least,
When I saw her with a Freshman at the play.
She had a gay flirtation with a special, taking art;
I went with him to call, one Sunday night;
He kindly introduced me, then I played a villain's part,
For I made a mash, and knocked him out of sight.

O, charming college widow, I never can forget
The night when you put on my college pin;
I pressed your hand and told you that the act you'd not regret,
And you said you'd stick to us through thick and thin.
I remember still the picnics and that moonlight promenade,
Just the night before I paid for my degree,
When we interchanged such sacred vows, and declarations made
That we'd love each other through eternity.

I heard from you quite often — I liked your letters, too —
They were spicy and chuck full of college news;
But the interval between them soon became a month or two,
And our courtship seemed its interest to lose;
I didn't write for full three months, and one day I received
By express, collect, each love-stick billet doux,
And though I swore that I had been both jilted
and deceived, I returned your letters, paid the charges, too!

Last commencement I revisited the scenes of college life;
Six years had brought about a wondrous change.
I knew a few professors, who were glad to meet my wife,
But the students all seemed out of place and strange.
There was little to recall to me the olden time so sweet,
And so it was a pleasure, you may know,
At the field day exercises, unexpectedly to meet
An acquaintance of the happy long ago.

She looked but little older, her laugh was just as gay;
Beside her was a gallant Sophomore
Who held her parasol aloft and gushed in just the way
That doubtless I had gushed in days of yore.
I merely tipped my hat, I feared to introduce my wife,
For I knew that some remark might lightly fall,
Revealing to my better half a chapter of my life,
Which I'd rather she should not suspect at all.