Surrounds himself with pupils free from lust and greed.
But at the hour of death, of science’s long roll,
The art of poverty’s what most behoves man’s soul.
A syntax-teacher, once, was mounted in a boat,
Who to the skipper turned, as soon as e’er afloat,595
And asked: “Hast studied syntax?” “No indeed,” quoth he.
The teacher then: “Thy life’s half-wasted! Dost thou see?”
The skipper felt heart-broken at this pert remark;
But, for the moment, held his peace;—wise man’s bulwark.
The wind arose; the bark was sorely tempest-tossed;