WITH song elate we celebrate The struggling Student wight, Who seeketh still to pack his pate With treasures erudite; Who keepeth guard and watch and ward O'er every hour of day, Nor less to slight the hours of night, He watchful is alway. Though poor in pence, a wealth of sense He storeth in excess -- With poverty in opulence, His needs wax never less. His goods are few, -- a shelf or two Of classics, and a chair -- A banjo -- with a bird's-eye view Of back-lots everywhere. In midnight gloom, shut in his room, His vigils he protracts, E'en to the morning's hectic bloom, Accumulating facts: And yet, despite or wrong or right, He nurtureth a ban, -- He hath the stanchless appetite Of any hired man. On Jason's fleece and storied Greece He feeds his hungry mind; Then stuffs himself like a valise With "eats" of any kind: With kings he feigns he feasts, and drains The wines of ages gone -- Then husks a herring's cold remains And turns the hydrant on. In Trojan mail he fronts the gale Of ancient battle-rout, When, 'las the hour! his pipe must fail, And his last 'snipe" smush out -- Nor pauses he, unless it be To quote some cryptic scroll And poise a sardine pensively O'er his immortal soul. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOD'S GARDEN by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON MILES KEOGH'S HORSE by JOHN MILTON HAY THE DARK ANGEL by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON WHEN THE COWS COME HOME by AGNES E. MITCHELL TO A CHILD OF QUALITY, FIVE YEARS OLD. THE AUTHOR THAN FORTY by MATTHEW PRIOR |