So you fell Off the edge of the path that leads up to the well?
Well, all's well that ends well, at least so 'tis said; But next time you'd better stay down, and try to fall uphill instead.
Some of us at the time thought highly of this performance.

I remember one fellow saying that Number 2 seemed to have caught the spirit of Mr Browning without his vagueness, which was a very great compliment.
Number 3's poetry ran chiefly in dramatic lines.

He therefore boldly threw the narrative into dialogue form:-- _Shepherdess_ .-- Alas, my Jack is dead! _Shepherd_ .-- I mourn for lovely Jill.
_Both_ .-- A common fate o'ertook them on the hill.
_Shepherdess_ .-- I watched them go--him and the hateful minx.
_Shepherd_ .-- I smiled to mark his footsteps on the brinks.
_Both_ .-- Cruel deceiver he/she! shameless intriguer she/he! _Shepherdess_.--'Twas she who lured him o'er the cruel ledge.
_Shepherd_.--'Twas he who basely dragged her to the edge.
_Both_ .-- Oh! faithless he/she! oh! monstrous traitor she/he! _Shepherdess_ .-- Her fate no tongue shall mourn, no eye shall weep; _Shepherd_ .-- His doom was all deserved upon the steep.
_Both_ .-- Oh! hapless he/she! oh! wicked wicked she/he! _Shepherdess_ .-- Take warning, Shepherd; trust no faithless Jill.
_Shepherd_ .-- Nor you, fair nymph, with Jack e'er climb a hill.
_Both_ .-- Oh, woe is me! and woe, oh woe is thee! _Shepherdess_ .-- With thee, poor youth, I fain would shed a tear.
_Shepherd_ .-- Maiden, with thee I'd sit and weep a year.
_Both_ .-- Wouldst thou but smile, I too would dry mine eye; Nay, let's do both, and laugh here till we cry.
Number 4 was a specimen of the simple ditty style which leaves nothing unexplained, and never goes out of its course for the sake of a well- turned phrase.
When Jack was twelve and Jill was ten Their mother said, "My dear children, I want you both to take the pail We bought last week from Mr Gale, And fill it full of water clear, And don't be long away, do you hear ?" Then Master Jack and Sister Jill Raced gaily up the Primrose Hill, And filled the pail up to the top, And tried not spill a single drop.
But sad to tell, just half way down Jack tripped upon a hidden stone, And tumbled down and cut his head So badly that it nearly bled.
And Jill was so alarmed that she.
Let drop the pail immediately And fell down too, and sprained her hand, And had to go to Dr Bland And get it looked to; while poor Jack Was put to bed upon his back.
Number 4 regarded his performance with a certain amount of pride.

He said it was after the manner of Wordsworth, and was a protest against the inflated style of most modern poetry, which seemed to have for its sole object to conceal its meaning from the reader.

We had a good specimen of this kind of writing from Number 5, who wrote in blank verse, as he said, "after the German." I know not why--why seek to know?
Is not All life a problem?
and the tiniest pulse Beats with a throb which the remotest star Feels in its orbit?
Why ask me?
Rather say Whence these vague yearnings, whither swells this heart, Like some wild floweret leaping at the dawn?
'Tis not for me, 'tis not for thee to tell, But Time shall be our teacher, and his voice Shall fall unheard, unheeded in the midst! Still art thou doubtful?
Then arise and sing Into the Empyrean vault, while I Drift in the vagueness of the Ambrosian night.
We none of us dared inquire of Number 5 what was the particular bearing of these masterly lines upon the history of Jack and Jill.