Till my broom doth a pillow seem;
Till over its handle I fall asleep,
And sweep away in my dream.
"Oh! students of high degree,
(I scorn to address a low fellow),
"Oh! seniors most reverend, potent, and grave,
(In the words of the great Othello),
My story's a sad one indeed,
Notwithstanding your laughter and sport;
My life is naught but a broken reed,