Ida’s Prince would follow If but his bones were hollow, Until the end draws near.

Then comes a Dies Irae, When full of misery And torments worse than fiery He crams for his degree; p. 49 And hitherto unvexed books, Dry lectures, abstracts, text-books, Perplexing and perplexed books, Make life seem vanity.

p. 49

IV

Before admiring sister And mother, see, he stands, Made Artium Magister With laying on of hands. He gives his books to others (Perchance his younger brothers), And free from all such bothers Goes out into all lands.

p. 50THE WASTER’S PRESENTIMENT

p. 50

I shall be spun. There is a voice within Which tells me plainly I am all undone; For though I toil not, neither do I spin, I shall be spun.

April approaches. I have not begun Schwegler or Mackintosh, nor will begin Those lucid works till April 21.

So my degree I do not hope to win, For not by ways like mine degrees are won; And though, to please my uncle, I go in, I shall be spun.

p. 51THE CLOSE OF THE SESSION

p. 51

The Session’s over. We must say farewell To these east winds and to this eastern sea, For summer comes, with swallow and with bee, With many a flower and many a golfing swell.

No more the horribly discordant bell Shall startle slumber; and all men agree That whatsoever other things may be A cause of sorrow, this at least is well.

The class-room shall not open wide its doors, Or if it does, such opening will be vain; The gown shall hang unused upon a nail; South Street shall know us not; we’ll wipe the Scores From our remembrance; as for Mutto’s Lane, Yea, even the memory of this shall fail.

p. 52A BALLAD OF THE TOWN WATER

p. 52

It is the Police Commissioners, All on a winter’s day; And they to prove the town water Have set themselves away.

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