Queen Cram went straying <br />Where Tait was swaying, <br />In just hands weighing, <br />With care immense, <br />Dry proofs made pleasant <br />By Routh or Besant <br />For one who hasn’t <br />Got too much sense. <br />Nor marked how, quicker <br />Than mounts the liquor <br />In brains made thicker <br />By College beer, <br />The murderous maiden, <br />Mistake, walks laden <br />With tips forgotten and slips so queer. <br /> <br />How, like a spider, <br />She still spreads wider, <br />O’er bookwork, rider, <br />And problem too, <br />Her flimsy curtain <br />Of terms uncertain, <br />Till all seems dirt in <br />The marker’s view. <br />For if Cram were not, <br />Which markers spare not, <br />Wise men would care not <br />To pluck too soon, <br />Seeing all life’s season <br />Of budding reason <br />Finds good stiff work for a wooden spoon. <br /> <br />As Tait sat joking, <br />And marked while smoking, <br />Still slyly poking <br />Where jests might hit, <br />She came, soft-gliding, <br />Her false face hiding, <br />Rich food providing <br />For Tait’s sharp wit. <br />Through symbols tangled, <br />The Wranglers wrangled <br />Like sweet bells jangled <br />And out of tune. <br />For though their music <br />Would soon make you sick <br />The tides they measure and guide the moon. <br /> <br />Cram found no cover <br />Wherein to hover, <br />For still above her <br />Tait held his pen, <br />Which, onward creeping, <br />Might find her sleeping, <br />But left her weeping <br />O’er ruined men. <br />For, like a blister, <br />Mistake, Cram’s sister, <br />Would wring and twist her <br />In awkward ways, <br />Till all the knowledge <br />Acquired at College <br />Had passed from thought(49) in the last six days.<br /><br />James Clerk Maxwell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-additional-examiner-for-1875/
