THERE was a time when I was gay,

Nor shuddered at the thought of fun,

But made, as much as twice a day, A pun.

And loved the dance, and learned to wield

The taper cue with steady nerve,

Or practised upon Holmes his field The curve.

And rode a bicycle or shell,

No matter which, with equal skill,

And painted, not exactly well Nor ill.

But now, alas! with furrowed brow,

I study in my dismal den,

Nor brush my tumbled hair, save now And then.

With Spanish I and Moral Phil.

I cram by day my aching head, -

At night devour J. S. Mill Instead.

But hark! (O agony intense!)

"Come out, you dried old sybarite,

Do come, old man; the Globe 's immense To-night."

A sigh, a rising tear, - that's all, -

A voice as gentle as a lamb's, -

"Can't, - thanks, my semi-annual Exams."