The Rime of the Ancient College Grad (Abridged Version)

Part I

It is an ancient College Grad,

And he stoppeth one of three.

`By thy clean-shaven face and glittering eye,

Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

The classroom doors are closing soon,

And I must speak today;

The bell hath rung, I'm all-nigh late:

Please let me hurry away.'

He holds him with his skinny hand,

"There was a hat," quoth he.

`Hold off! unhand me, clean-shaven loon!'

Eftsoons his hand dropped he.

He holds him with his glittering eye -

The Freshman Lad stood still,

And listens like a three years' child:

The College Grad hath his will.

“This hat werth new, it 'twerth not old,

Stealthily did it come,

Into the hall, onto our heads,

And perched upon us some.

It came as new but soon was called

A legend and tradition,

Some said 'no' – an imposter,

but was there no remission.

Day after day, on happiest days

This hat would show its brim.

The bringer cheered, the victim feared

And left the wearer grim.

Alas my part to end this strife

Upon me it was sat

'Why thence thou said?' - “From mine own head

I crushed the Birthday Hat.”

Part II

Birthdays, birthdays, everywhere,

And all the peeps did sing.

Birthdays, birthdays, everywhere,

But not a hat did bring.

Ah! well-a-day! What cheerful looks

Had I from old and young!

Flat it sat, the Birthday Hat

And praises of me were sung.”

Part III

(skipped in abridged version)

Part IV

The selfsame moment I could sing;

And from my head so free

The Birthday Hat fell to the floor

Like lead into the sea."

Part V

Alas then heard another voice,

As soft as honey-dew:

Quoth he, `The man hath greatness done,

And greater more will do.'

Part VI

I saw a third -I heard his voice:

It is the Hermit good!

He singeth loud his godly hymns

That he maketh in the glen.

He made of me this tale to tell:

The Birthday Hat's sad end.

Part VII

I pass, like night, from land to land;

I have strange power of speech;

That moment that his face I see,

I know the man that must hear me:

To him my tale I teach.

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell

To thee, thou Freshman Lad!

He prayeth well, who loveth well

Both man and bird and lid.

He prayeth best, who loveth best

All things both great and small;

For the dear God who loveth us,

He made and loveth all."

The College Grad, whose eye is mad,

Whose beard is shaven all,

Is gone; and now the Freshman Lad

Turned from the classroom wall.

He went like one that hath been stunned,

And is of sense forlorn:

A sadder and a wiser man

He rose the morrow morn.

© Daniel Lorimer

April 20, 2011