THEREFORE your Halls, your ancient Colleges, Your portals statued with old kings and queens, Your gardens, myriad-volumed libraries, Wax-lighted chapels, and rich carven screens, Your doctors and your proctors, and your deans Shall not avail you, when the Daybeam sports New-risen o'er awaken'd Albion -- No! Nor yet your solemn organ-pipes that blow Melodious thunders thro' your vacant courts At morn and eve -- because your manner sorts Not with this age wherefrom ye stand apart -- Because the lips of little children preach Against you, you that do profess to teach And teach us nothing, feeding not the heart. |