In the sad November time,When the leaf has left the lime,And the Cam, with sludge and slime, Plasters his ugly channel,While, with sober step and slow,Round about the marshes low,Stiffening students stumping go Shivering through their flannel.
Then to me in doleful moodRises up a question rude,Asking what sufficient good Comes of this mode of living?Moping on from day to day,Grinding up what will not "pay,"Till the jaded brain gives way Under its own misgiving.
Why should wretched Man employYears which Nature meant for joy,Striving vainly to destroy Freedom of thought and feeling?Still the injured powers remainEndless stores of hopeless pain,When at last the vanquished brain Languishes past all healing.
Where is then his wealth of mind --All the schemes that Hope designed?Gone, like spring, to leave behind Indolent melancholy.Thus he ends his helpless days,Vex't with thoughts of former praise --Tell me, how are Wisdom's ways Better than senseless Folly?
Happier those whom trifles please,Dreaming out a life of ease,Sinking by unfelt degrees Into annihilation.Or the slave, to labour born,Heedless of the freeman's scorn,Destined to be slowly worn Down to the brute creation.
Thus a tempting spirit spoke,As from troubled sleep I wokeTo a morning thick with smoke, Sunless and damp and chilly.Then to sleep I turned once more,Eyes inflamed and windpipe sore,Dreaming dreams I dreamt before, Only not quite so silly.
In my dream methought I strayedWhere a learned-looking maidStores of flimsy goods displayed, Articles not worth wearing."These," she said, with solemn air,"Are the robes that sages wear,Warranted, when kept with care, Never to need repairing."
Then unnumbered witlings, caughtBy her wiles, the trappings bought,And by labour, not by thought, Honour and fame were earning.While the men of wiser mindPassed for blind among the blind;Pedants left them far behind In the career of learning.
"Those that fix their eager eyesEver on the nearest prizeWell may venture to despise Loftier aspirations.Pedantry is in demand!Buy it up at second-hand,Seek no more to understand Profitless speculations."
Thus the gaudy gowns were sold,Cast off sloughs of pedants old;Proudly marched the students bold Through the domain of error,Till their trappings, false though fair,Mouldered off and left them bare,Clustering close in blank despair, Nakedness, cold, and terror.
Then, I said, "These haughty SchoolsBoast that by their formal rulesThey produce more learned fools Than could be well expected.Learned fools they are indeed,Learned in the books they read;Fools whene'er they come to need Wisdom, too long neglected.
"Oh! that men indeed were wise,And would raise their purblind eyesTo the opening mysteries Scattered around them ever.Truth should spring from sterile ground,Beauty beam from all around,Right should then at last be found Joining what none may sever."
