But gnawing friction, stern and gaunt, Tears flesh and brain away, While ghosts nocturnal ever haunt A soul with fell dismay, Whose mercenary greed has led Itself into a snare That counts by scores its strangled dead, Its hundreds, in despair. He doubly lives who can forget Himself and his own ease, While toiling patiently to set New gems in crowns he sees, That may adorn some other head Than that he calls his own, And animate the germs wide spread In seeds already sown. To skim the surface of knowledge, And seldom its root to reach, Is a recipe one may offer To direct "How Not To Teach."