What sad, sad woe, doth in thy heart remain?

Bright flash'd the teacher's languid eye,
Flushed his pale cheek, with bright, tho' fleeting
flame;
Leap'd forth his voice with energetic cry,
And thus, to me express'd, his thoughts they came.

"Inquirer, cease, thy words stir up the fire,
That erst did fill my live and vig'rous brain;
Thy words stir up the seeds of healthy ire,
That still, with latent pow'r and force, remain.

"'Tis strange, thou think'st, that darkly on my brow
The shadow of a careworn spirit stays;
My youth, with springless step, doth make thee bow
Thy head, in kindly wonder, and amaze.

"Thou would'st not look with such a puzzl'd air,
Upon my weary pace, and heavy eye,
If thou didst know the cause of my despair,
The stem, substantial, solid reason why.

"Didst ever know, my friend, what I endure,
In slavish, plodding work, from day to day,
Which work should be in its own nature pure,
And lifted high, from gross and heavy clay.

"Examinations, cram and pressure high,
Are daily kept before my anxious mind;