OXFORD IN MAY When we have snapped the chain of tranquil youth, And run to revel in the loud World's Fair, And straddled on the painted roundabouts, Clapping our hands at clowns, and horns that blare; O heart of mine, when it grows late, and all The noisy tents flap dully on the grey Shivers of evening, and the Showman locks The clamorous booths, and sends the crowd away; When we have found how terrible is age, And how men piped for us to dance, and we Danced, till we caught them laughing through the tune, And turned away, sick at their mockery: Then in the silent room, with the lamp lit, We shall remember the still summer nights, The gold moon rising over Magdalen Bridge, And how the curving High was gemmed with lights.
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