When all these forms and duties die away,
And the day passes like the former day,
Then of exterior things at once bereft,
He’s to himself and one attendant left;
Nay, John too goes; nor aught of service more
Remains for him; he gladly quits the door,
And, as he whistles to the college-gate,
He kindly pities his poor master’s fate.
Books cannot always please, however good;
Minds are not ever craving for their food;