(The following poem was submitted on the occasion of the Band's annual dinner which is to be held this evening--Ed. Note.)
There's a clarion sound of music
In the cool crisp autumn air--
And it's sounding nearer, nearer
To the crowd down at the Square
For the loyal sons of Harvard
Are marching "Up the Street",
The boys who wave the Crimson
Are on their way to beat.
The piccolos are screeching,
The trumpets in full blast.
The drums in rhythm rolling
The trombones sliding fast,
And the saxophones are sobbing
In an under-alto key,
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