Therefore your halls, your ancient colleges,1
Your portal statued with old kings and queens,2
Your gardens, myriad-volumed libraries,3
Wax-lighted chapels, and rich carven screens,4
Your doctors, and your proctors, and your deans5
Shall not avail you when the day-beam sports6
New risen o’er awakened Albion—no,7
Nor yet your solemn organ-pipes that blow8
Melodious thunder thro’ your vacant courts9
At morn and eve ; because your manner sorts10
Not with this age wherefrom ye stand apart ;11
Because the lips of little children preach12
Against you—you that do profess to teach,13
And teach us nothing—feeding not the heart.14