0, mentis vanitas! 0, assishness of Man! What boots it me, alas! that with enormous toil I snore through Paracelsus, Plato, Bacon, Boyle, And other humdrum humbugs? Chasing the Tree Of Knowledge, I have trudged from Bershebah to Dan, And all is barren! - I have spent my midnight oil For nought, and sown my seeds upon a stony soil, And now the Mills of Science yield me only bran! Therefore Philosophy, I guess, is not the ticket; Therefore I'll cut and run from all my books, and seek Some savage mountain-den or wild outlandish thicket, And there keep cudgelling my brains from week to week, Till I discover how, despite Miss Fortune's frowns, I may, by hook or crook, make prize of Three Half-Crcwns. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: 7. THE MEASURE OF BEAUTY by THOMAS CAMPION SONNET: 144 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE MELANCHOLY by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS THE PROMETHEUS VINCTUS OF AESCHYLUS by AESCHYLUS I AM FREEZING by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS CAPITAL SQUARE by PATRICK JOHN MCALISTER ANDERSON TO JOHN DRYDEN, ESQ.; POET LAUREATE AND HISTOGRAPHER ROYAL by PHILIP AYRES THE BLACK FOX OF SALMON RIVER by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |