"Behold! I am not one that goes to Lectures…"

  Behold! I am not one that goes to Lectures or the pow-wow of
  Professors.
  The elementary laws never apologise: neither do I apologise.
  I find letters from the Dean dropt on my table—and every one is
  signed by the Dean's name—
  And I leave them where they are; for I know that as long as I
  stay up
  Others will punctually come for ever and ever.
  I am one who goes to the river,
  I sit in the boat and think of 'life' and of 'time.'
  How life is much, but time is more; and the beginning is
  everything,
  But the end is something.
  I loll in the Parks, I go to the wicket, I swipe.
  I see twenty-two young men from Foster's watching me, and the
  trousers of the twenty-two young men,
  I see the Balliol men en masse watching me.—The Hottentot
  that loves his mother, the untutored Bedowee, the Cave-man
  that wears only his certificate of baptism, and the shaggy
  Sioux that hangs his testamur with his scalps.
  I see the Don who ploughed me in Rudiments watching me: and the
  wife of the Don who ploughed me in Rudiments watching me.
  I see the rapport of the wicket-keeper and umpire. I cannot see
  that I am out.
  Oh! you Umpires!
  I am not one who greatly cares for experience, soap, bull-dogs,
  cautions, majorities, or a graduated Income-Tax,
  The certainty of space, punctuation, sexes, institutions,
  copiousness, degrees, committees, delicatesse, or the
  fetters of rhyme—
  For none of these do I care: but least for the fetters of rhyme.
  Myself only I sing. Me Imperturbe! Me Prononce!
  Me progressive and the depth of me progressive,
  And the bathos, Anglice bathos
  Of me chanting to the Public the song of Simple Enumeration.