[After Wordsworth.] <br /> <br /> <br />It was a phantom of delight <br />When first it gleamed upon my sight, <br />A scholarly distinction, sent <br />To be a student's ornament. <br />The hood was rich beyond compare, <br />The gown was a unique affair. <br />By this, by that my mind was drawn <br />Then, in my academic dawn; <br />A dancing shape, an image gay <br />Before me then was my M.A. <br />I saw it upon nearer view, <br />A glory, yet a bother too! <br />For I perceived that I should be <br />Involved in much Philosophy <br />(A branch in which I could but meet <br />Works that were neither light nor sweet); <br />In Mathematics, not too good <br />For human nature's daily food <br />And Classics, rendered in the styles <br />Of Kelly, Bohn, and Dr. Giles. <br />And now I own, with some small spleen, <br />A most confounded ass I've been; <br />The glory seems an empty breath, <br />And I am nearly bored to death <br />With Reason, Consciousness, and Will, <br />And other things beyond my skill, <br />Discussed in books all darkly planned <br />And more in number than the sand. <br />Yet that M.A. still haunts my sight, <br />With something of its former light.<br /><br />Robert Fuller Murray<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-m-a-degree/
