Classic Poem

Of College I am tired; I wish to be at home,
Far from the pompous tutor's voice, and the hated school-boy's groan.

I wish that I had freedom to walk about at will;
That I no more was troubled by my Greek and slate and quill.

I wish to see my kitten, to hear my ape rejoice,
To listen to my nightingale's or parrot's lovely voice.

And England does not suit me: it's cold and full of snow;
So different from black Africa's warm, sunny, genial glow.

I'm shivering in the day-time, and shivering all the night:
I'm called poor, startled, withered wretch, and miserable wight!

And oh! I miss my brother, I miss his gentle smile
Which used so many long dark hours of sorrow to beguile.

I miss my dearest mother; I now no longer find
Aught half so mild as she was, — so careful and so kind.

Oh, I have not my father's, my noble father's arms
To guard me from all wickedness, and keep me safe from harms.

I hear his voice no longer; I see no more his eye
Smile on me in my misery: to whom now shall I fly?