In love with everything he sees,
He notes the very Midland sky,
He sniffs a more than Midland breeze.
“Can this be Oxford? This the place?”
(He cries) “of which my father said
The tutoring was a damned disgrace,
The creed a mummery, stuffed and dead?
“Can it be here that Uncle Paul
Was driven by excessive gloom,
To drink and debt, and, last of all,