The little letters dance across the page, <br />Flaunt and retire, and trick the tired eyes; <br />Sick of the strain, the glaring light, I rise <br />Yawning and stretching, full of empty rage <br />At the dull maunderings of a long dead sage, <br />Fling up the windows, fling aside his lies; <br />Choosing to breathe, not stifle and be wise, <br />And let the air pour in upon my cage. <br /> <br />The breeze blows cool and there are stars and stars <br />Beyond the dark, soft masses of the elms <br />That whisper things in windy tones and light. <br />They seem to wheel for dim, celestial wars; <br />And I - I hear the clash of silver helms <br />Ring icy-clear from the far deeps of night.<br /><br />Stephen Vincent Benet<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/campus-sonnets-before-an-examination/
