At Oxford

Bereave me not of Fancy's shadowy dreams,
  Which won my heart, or when the gay career
  Of life begun, or when at times a tear
  Sat sad on memory's cheek--though loftier themes
  Await the awakened mind to the high prize
  Of wisdom, hardly earned with toil and pain,
  Aspiring patient; yet on life's wide plain
  Left fatherless, where many a wanderer sighs
  Hourly, and oft our road is lone and long,
  'Twere not a crime should we a while delay
  Amid the sunny field; and happier they
  Who, as they journey, woo the charm of song,
  To cheer their way;--till they forget to weep,
  And the tired sense is hushed, and sinks to sleep.