Is it your pride sustains you most
When other men's conceit sounds hollow. . .
" My school's the world! " you often boast
And wait for the applause to follow.

With any casual phrase, you love
To strike a noble attitude;
And with what eloquence you prove
Some stale and standard platitude!

Is there no cure for this offense
That human flesh, it seems, is heir to;
This philosophic flatulence
That all your underlings must swear to!

Is there no end to your superb
Power of rhetoric and inaction?
Can nothing shatter, nothing curb
Your sleek and smiling satisfaction?

In soft emotions you lie curled
With all your placid creeds beside you;
And blink approval on a world
You like to think has taught and tried you.

The world, you say, has been your school —
But have you never contemplated,
Oh, positive and pompous fool,
How badly you've been educated!