Joined the Golf Club, and with others of an afternoon was seen Vainly searching in the whins, or foozling on the putting-green; Took a minor part in Readings; lifted up my voice and sang At the Musical rehearsals, till the class-room rafters rang; p. 108Wrote long poems for the Column; entered for the S. R. C, And, if I remember rightly, was thrown out by twenty-three; p. 108 Ground a little for my classes, till the hour of nine or ten, When I read a decent novel or went out to see some men. So I reaped the large experience which has made me what I am, Far removed from bejanthood as is St. Andrews from Siam. But with age and with experience disenchantment comes to all, Even pleasure on the keenest appetite at last will pall. p. 109Had I now a hundred pounds, a hundred pounds would I bestow To enjoy the loud solatium as I did three years ago, p. 109 When the songs were less familiar, less familiar too the pies, And I did not mind receiving orange-peel between the eyes. Yet, in spite of disenchantment, and in spite of finding out There are some things in the world that I am hardly sure about, Still sufficient of illusion and inexplicable grace Hangs about the grey old town to make it a delightful place. p. 110Though solatiums charm no longer, though a gaudeamus fails With its atmosphere unwholesome to expand my spirit’s sails, p. 110 Though rectorial elections are if anything a bore, And I do not care to carry dripping torches any more, Though my soul for Moral lectures does not vehemently yearn, Though the north-east winds are bitter—I am willing to return. At this point in my reflections, on the left the Links expand, Many a whin bush full of prickles, many a bunker full of sand. p. 111And I see distinguished club-men, whom I only know by sight, Old, obese, and scarlet-coated, playing golf with all their might; p. 111 As they were three years ago, when first I travelled by this train, As they will be three years hence, if I should
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