The Graduate
He could quote from musty pages, delve in geologic ages, and relax himself in synthesis and such;
Could construct an exegesis, startle with a subtle Thesis, and involve a tortured subject overmuch.
He was great in mathematics, as applied to hydrostatics, or eternal revolution of the spheres;
His chronology was reckoned from the minimum of second to the undiscovered maximum of years.
He was constantly amazing with philology and phrasing, with vocabulistic plenitude and ease;
He was by his fellows quoted, as a lexicon is noted, his attainments were superlative degrees.
On Commencement his oration was received with an ovation, oh, his temporary glory was immense;
While the complimenting flowers fell around in fragrant showers, and the fever of the moment was intense.
But behold the fellow later from his sheltering Alma Mater reach his educated fingers for some necessary cash;
All the wisdom he may utter doesn’t turn to bread and butter, and his Theses do not count for daily hash.