By W. W. Behold! I Am Not One That Goes To Lectures Or The Pow-Wow Of Professors. The Elementary Laws Never Apologise: Neither Do I Apologise. I Find Letters From The Dean Dropt On My Table--And Every One Is Signed By The Dean'S Name-- And I Leave Them Where They Are; For I Know That As Long As I Stay Up Others Will Punctually Come For Ever And Ever. I Am One Who Goes To The River, I Sit In The Boat And Think Of 'Life' And Of 'Time.' How Life Is Much, But Time Is More; And The Beginning Is Everything, But The End Is Something. I Loll In The Parks, I Go To The Wicket, I Swipe. I See Twenty-Two Young Men From Foster'S Watching Me, And The Trousers Of The Twenty-Two Young Men, I See The Balliol Men En Masse Watching Me.--The Hottentot That Loves His Mother, The Untutored Bedowee, The Cave-Man That Wears Only His Certificate Of Baptism, And The Shaggy Sioux That Hangs His Testamur With His Scalps. I See The Don Who Ploughed Me In Rudiments Watching Me: And The Wife Of The Don Who Ploughed Me In Rudiments Watching Me. I See The Rapport Of The Wicket-Keeper And Umpire. I Cannot See That I Am Out. Oh! You Umpires! I Am Not One Who Greatly Cares For Experience, Soap, Bull-Dogs, Cautions, Majorities, Or A Graduated Income-Tax, The Certainty Of Space, Punctuation, Sexes, Institutions, Copiousness, Degrees, Committees, Delicatesse, Or The Fetters Of Rhyme-- For None Of These Do I Care: But Least For The Fetters Of Rhyme. Myself Only I Sing. Me Imperturbe! Me Prononce! Me Progressive And The Depth Of Me Progressive, And The Bathos, Anglice Bathos Of Me Chanting To The Public The Song Of Simple Enumeration.