I HOPE to ripen into richer wine
Than mix'd Falernian; those decantered streams
Pour'd from another's chalice into thine
Make less of wisdom than the scholar dreams;
Precept on precept, tedious line on line,
That never-thinking, ever-reading plan
Fashion some patchwork garments for a man,
But starve his mind: it starves of too much meat,
An undigested surfeit; as for me,
I am untamed, a spirit free and fleet,
That cannot brook the studious yoke, nor be
Like some dull grazing ox without a soul;
But, feeling racer's shoes upon my feet,
Before my teacher starts, I touch the goal.