Sonneteering Sorehead Floods Square With Scathing Satire; "Sonnets of a Sorehead" Prove Bitter Against Everything

Harvard's perennial satirist got into action yesterday, when he circulated around the square hundreds of small paper covered volumes entitled "Sonnets of a Sorehead," taking a number of lusty but goot humored swats at many prominent figures of the University, from President Lowell and Professor Baker to the statue of John Harvard, and the CRIMSON.

The identity of the sorehead is unknown. On the cover of the book it is announced that the author, is "Hollis Randolph Thayer-Smith," while the publisher is declared to be the "Pessimistic Society of Cambridge." But that he finds much to scoff at in Harvard and her professors is apparent from his score or more of sonnets, written in more than passing verse, which appear in his little volume.

At Professor Baker the sorehead seems particularly sore. Of him he writes:

What though thy name is George, art thou not Esau,

Who sold his birthright for a bawdy prize?

Thy actions may seem right to other eyes;

But not to those who've seen the things that we saw.

Vain man, didst thou suppose thou hadst the power

To dictate to the gods that rule above?

What glory could thy mind be dreaming of,

That thou desert'st the shop at this late hour?

The evil that men do lives after them,

The good is oft interred with their bones

So sang our bard in real dramatic tones.

Why hast thou, then destroyed this precious gem?

Didst thou not know, poor educated fool,

The School must rule the man, not man the school?

The unknown sorehead also vents considerable spleen against Professor Copeland. hailing him as the "self-styled sophist of Hollisian haunts," the dyspeptic bard describes one of Professor Copeland's famous readings as follows:

And uninitiate Freshmen swarm to hear

Thy muttering renditions year by year--

Instead they see adjustments of a shade.

Cries for more air, or less, as case may be

Demands of silence from the tortured class--

These are thy hobbies. They are blind, alas,

Who thine attempts at bluffing cannot see,

If Keats and Shelley had been schooled by thee

Who then had sung of love and liberty?

Another fiery outburst is directed against the CRIMSON.

The sorehend haughtily asks:

What yellow sheet is this that floods the square

Each morning with its enervating news?

Who but a college student would peruse

Such antiquated items as are there?

The type is jumbled, columns upside down,

Authorities misquoted and abused.

While most of the vocabulary used

Would be an insult to a country town.

Oh swindlesheet that barks all ancient views,

Mayhap the curtain down on you will ring.

While once again the voice of truth will sing

Triumphant o'er a prostituted muse.

Oh journalistic ethics of great fame.

What crimes are thus committed in thy name.

The Union comes in for its share of attention when the sonneteer, observing on the exclusiveness of its membership of 2000, reflects on the culinary charms of its dining room.

When broke, the student steers his steps to where

He may his meal check on the term bill place;

But when in funds one does not see him race

Towards that antiquated bill of fare

To feed on viands each and all declare

A self-respecting crow would thrust-aside

As insults to his culinary pride.

Two thousand members, lured into its halls

By monthly lectures of reputed men,

Seek disappointedly their rooms again

When they have spent one day within its walls.

Had Lincoln visited this godless spot,

Would he have saved the Union?--he would not!

As far as could be ascertained, the little book of sonnets has caused little excitement among the professors who are attacked therein, or among undergraduates. Books of this sort, satirising Harvard and Harvard professors, have appeared almost every year for several generations, and a good sized library could be collected from those among them which have been published during the past 50 years. Among the more famous on the list are "The New Swiss Family Robinson," published 50 years ago by owen Wister '82, and "Alice's Adventures in Cambridge," by Richard C. Evarts '13: The most recent book of this sort was "Little Codfish Cabot,"which was published last year by two members of the class of 1923.