We are the hollow kids
We are the stuffed kids
Learning together
Headpiece filled with straw. ALAS.
Our racous voices, when
We whisper together
Are through the school
As the nine o'clock gong
Brings us to drudgery
In our dry cellar. Shape without form, sign without letters,
Mazes of lines, words without meaning;
Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to Math's, other Kingdom
Remember us - if at all - not as lost
Mathematicians, but only
As the hollow kids
The stuffed kids. Words I dare not meet in class
In Heath's French Kingdom
These do appear:
There the Vocab. is
Sunlight on a stormy brain
There is a tence revealed
And Mme Gaut despairs
That proses are
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star. Let me be no nearer
To death's dream kingdom
Let me also learn
Such wonderful truths as
HCl is harmless
In a bottle
Behaving as it should behave
As HCl.
This is the dead lesson
This is the cactus lesson
Where ancient authors
Are raised from their graves
To haunt us in our dreams
Under the twinkle of a fading star.
Is it like this.
In death's other kingdom? J. PAVY & F. LANG, 4th Year | 