School

If there is a vile, pernicious,
    Wicked and degraded rule,
Tending to debase the vicious,
    And corrupt the harmless fool;
If there is a hateful habit
    Making man a senseless tool,
With the feelings of a rabbit
    And the wisdom of a mule;
It's the rule which inculcates,
It's the habit which dictates
The wrong and sinful practice of going into school.

If there's anything improving
    To an erring sinner's state,
Which is useful in removing
    All the ills of human fate;
If there's any glorious custom
    Which our faults can dissipate,
And can casually thrust 'em
    Out of sight and make us great;
It's the plan by which we shirk
Half our matu-ti-nal work,
The glorious institution of always being late.

                            James Kenneth Stephen.

James Kenneth Stephen

James Kenneth Stephen was an English poet, known for his satirical verse. Although his career was cut short by mental illness, he is remembered for works such as "Lapsus Calami" and "Quo Musa Tendis." Stephen attended Eton College and King's College, Cambridge, and was a tutor to Prince Albert Victor, son of King Edward VII. His brilliance was overshadowed by speculation regarding his mental health and tragic death at the age of 32.

James Kenneth Stephen

The Millennium

James Kenneth Stephen, Simple Poetry

Last Ride Together, The

James Kenneth Stephen, Simple Poetry

Thought, A

James Kenneth Stephen, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Old Schooldays

Awake, of Muse, the echoes of a day
Long past, the ghosts of mem'ries manifold,
Youth's memories that once were green and gold
But now, alas, are grim and ashen grey.

The drowsy schoolboy wakened up from sleep,
First stays his system with substantial food,
Then off for school with tasks half understood,
Alas, alas, that cribs should be so cheap!

The journey down to town, 'twere long to tell
The storm and riot of the rabble rout;
The wild Walpurgis revel in and out
That made the ferry boat a floating hell.

What time the captive locusts fairly roared:
And bulldog ants, made stingless with a knife,
Climbed up the seats and scared the very life
From timid folk, who near jumped overboard.

The hours of lessons, hours with feet of clay
Ea...

Andrew Barton Paterson

The Two Ogres

Good children, list, if you're inclined,
And wicked children too
This pretty ballad is designed
Especially for you.

Two ogres dwelt in Wickham Wold
Each TRAITS distinctive had:
The younger was as good as gold,
The elder was as bad.

A wicked, disobedient son
Was JAMES M'ALPINE, and
A contrast to the elder one,
Good APPLEBODY BLAND.

M'ALPINE brutes like him are few
In greediness delights,
A melancholy victim to
Unchastened appetites.

Good, well-bred children every day
He ravenously ate,
All boys were fish who found their way
Into M'ALPINE'S net:

Boys whose good breeding is innate,
Whose sums are always right;
And boys who don't expostulate
When sent to bed at night;

And kindly boys who n...

William Schwenck Gilbert

The Best School of All

It's good to see the school we knew,
    The land of youth and dream.
To greet again the rule we knew
    Before we took the stream:
Though long we've missed the sight of her,
    Our hearts may not forget;
We've lost the old delight of her,
    We keep her honour yet.

        We'll honour yet the school we knew,
            The best school of all:
        We'll honour yet the rule we knew,
            Till the last bell call.
        For working days or holidays,
            And glad or melancholy days,
    They were great days and jolly days
            At the best school of all.

The stars and sounding vanities
    That half the crowd bewitch,
What are they but inanities
    To him that treads the pitch?
And where's the welth ...

Henry John Newbolt

Sir Macklin

Of all the youths I ever saw
None were so wicked, vain, or silly,
So lost to shame and Sabbath law,
As worldly TOM, and BOB, and BILLY.

For every Sabbath day they walked
(Such was their gay and thoughtless natur)
In parks or gardens, where they talked
From three to six, or even later.

SIR MACKLIN was a priest severe
In conduct and in conversation,
It did a sinner good to hear
Him deal in ratiocination.

He could in every action show
Some sin, and nobody could doubt him.
He argued high, he argued low,
He also argued round about him.

He wept to think each thoughtless youth
Contained of wickedness a skinful,
And burnt to teach the awful truth,
That walking out on Sunday's sinful.

"Oh, youths," said he, "I grieve to...

William Schwenck Gilbert

An Old Mans Thought Of School

An old mans thought of School;
An old man, gathering youthful memories and blooms, that youth itself cannot.

Now only do I know you!
O fair auroral skies! O morning dew upon the grass!

And these I see, these sparkling eyes,
These stores of mystic meaning, these young lives,
Building, equipping, like a fleet of ships, immortal ships!
Soon to sail out over the measureless seas,
On the Souls voyage.

Only a lot of boys and girls?
Only the tiresome spelling, writing, ciphering classes?
Only a Public School?

Ah more, infinitely more;
(As George Fox raisd his warning cry, Is it this pile of brick and mortar, these dead floors, windows, rails, you call the church?
Why this is not the church at all, the Church is living, ever living Souls.)

Walt Whitman

Behold! I Am Not One That Goes To Lectures.'

By W. W.

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

Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch