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On Professors


Professors, with their foolish brows,
  1
  Pass and depart,
Learnèd in every lore besides
  The human heart.

Laughed at by ever-living youth,
  5
  Up discreet sleeves,
Selling themselves to teach old lies
  No man believes.

Poor dust, called men, that need not die
  9
  To be forgot,
That, even living, were as though
  They still were not.

Fools stuffed with wisdom as a goose
  13
  Is stuffed with spices,
Yet cautious hypocrites, the while,
  Of furtive vices.

How long shall youth and strength be slaves
  17
  To men like you—
With wild-haired April in the land,
  All stars and dew!







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