Over the entrance to the New Examination Schools at Oxford (opened 1885) are two reliefs in stone, one representing a Viva Voce Examination, the other representing the ceremony of conferring the degree of B.A. WHENE'ER I see those sculptured Three, above the New Schools' gate, Whose stony forms a heart of stone too aptly indicate, It minds me, as I gaze upon those cold, unfeeling men, How often I've been ploughed before, and oft shall be again; And O! that Undergraduate, receiving his degree -- They give that Undergraduate what ne'er they'll give to me! Before my locks were streaked with grey, and seamed with care my brow, I got through Mods. in seven tries -- I often wonder how -- But Greats, alas! I cannot pass; for were my mind a sieve, I Could just about as well retain the narrative of Livy. They tell me where Saguntum was: I hear, but I forget -- I can't distinguish Hamilcar from Hasdrubal as yet! They say my Aristotle's 'weak', and always mark 'N. S.' on My papers when I try to prove that virtue is a @3meson@1: And when I bring the Clerk a bob, he simply says in answer, 'What! give you a testamur, Sir! I much regret I can't, Sir.' Full proudly struts the Honourman, with look serene and high; Yet O! although his task is hard, he's better off than I! He's specialized on all that's known, and also much that's not: He knows far more than Liddell knew, and quite as much as Scott: He uses philosophic terms so long 'tis hard to spell 'em, Has all M-c-n's most recent tips, and theories from P-lh-m; But can the boastful Honourman -- can P-lh-m or M-c-n know The various individuals who bore the name of Hanno? No -- much more difficult his task, superior far his art, Who buys a crib at second-hand, and learns that crib by heart! Still, ere I quite give up the game, and migrate hence to Durham (For if examiners have hearts, some pity sure must stir 'em) I'll try another bout with Fate -- one last and desperate venture -- This time, perhaps, will victory crown my limp dejected trencher: Then, proud as any ancient Greek who won the Isthmian parsley, I'll sign myself @3R. Snooks, B. A., ex Aul. Magistri Charsley.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MISSIONARY HYMN by REGINALD HEBER SONNET: TO FANNY by JOHN KEATS ELEGY BEFORE DEATH by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY ROOTS AND LEAVES THEMSELVES ALONE by WALT WHITMAN SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE SAILOR; A ROMAIC BALLAD by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM INTROSPECTION by GEORGE ARNOLD |