Short space shall be hereafter br Ere April brings the hour br Of weeping and of laughter, br Of sunshine and of shower, br Of groaning and of gladness, br Of singing and of sadness, br Of melody and madness, br Of all sweet things and sour. br br Sweet to the blithe bucolic br Who knows nor cribs nor crams, br Who sees the frisky frolic br Of lanky little lambs; br But sour beyond expression br To one in deep depression br Who sees the closing session br And imminent exams. br br He cannot hear the singing br Of birds upon the bents, br Nor watch the wildflowers springing, br Nor smell the April scents. br He gathers grief with grinding, br Foul food of sorrow finding br In books of dreary binding br And drearier contents. br br One hope alone sustains him, br And no more hopes beside, br One trust alone restrains him br From shocking suicide; br He will not play nor palter br With hemlock or with halter, br He will not fear nor falter, br Whatever chance betide. br br He knows examinations br Like all things else have ends, br And then come vast vacations br And visits to his friends, br And youth with pleasure yoking, br And joyfulness and joking, br And smilingness and smoking, br For grief to make amends.