Thursday, July 03, 2014

A Schenckian Faust

I have alas, philosophy,
history, math, and physics too,
and dare I say, theology,
with ardent labor, studied through.

And here I stand, with all my lore,
Poor fool, no richer than before.
Magister, sometimes Dean, indeed,
Sixteen, seventeen, years I lead.

Up, down, here, there I snag,
My students by the nose to drag,
Yet in the end the truth will show
That I in truth do nothing know.

At times the scholars, smart though they be
Mistake obscure for profundity.
Magister, doctor, priest, and scribe;
Are often just a dullard tribe.

Yet ignorance is only bliss
As long as stupidity should miss
The right to make any choice
Of any importance or voice.

Then have I neither place in one
And have I naught the other too
To think that most minutia want
Or see the universe beyond.

In such fashion, a dog I live
And take as Juvenal before.
Give them bread and circuses.
Bread and circuses.

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