<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507024" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The End Of April</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is the time when larks are singing loud<br>And higher still ascending and more high,<br>This is the time when many a fleecy cloud<br>Runs lamb-like on the pastures of the sky,<br>This is the time when most I love to lie<br>Stretched on the links, now listening to the sea,<br>Now looking at the train that dawdles by;<br>But James is going in for his degree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">James is my brother. He has twice been ploughed,<br>Yet he intends to have another shy,<br>Hoping to pass (as he says) in a crowd.<br>Sanguine is James, but not so sanguine I.<br>If you demand my reason, I reply:<br>Because he reads no Greek without a key<br>And spells Thucydides c-i-d-y;<br>Yet James is going in for his degree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No doubt, if the authorities allowed<br>The taking in of Bohns, he might defy<br>The stiffest paper that has ever cowed<br>A timid candidate and made him fly.<br>Without such aids, he all as well may try<br>To cultivate the people of Dundee,<br>Or lead the camel through the needle's eye;<br>Yet James is going in for his degree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Vain are the efforts hapless mortals ply<br>To climb of knowledge the forbidden tree;<br>Yet still about its roots they strive and cry,<br>And James is going in for his degree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Fuller+Murray">Robert Fuller Murray</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507024" data-title="The End Of April de Robert Fuller Murray" data-description="This is the time when larks are singing loud And higher still ascending and more high, This is the time when many a fleecy cloud Runs lamb-like on the pastures of the sky, This is the time when most I love to lie Stretched on the links, now listen..."></div> </div> </div>

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