Ye sacred Nurseries of blooming Youth!

Ye sacred Nurseries of blooming Youth!
In whose collegiate shelter England’s Flowers
Expand—enjoying through their vernal hours
The air of liberty, the light of truth;
Much have ye suffered from Time’s gnawing tooth, 5
Yet, O ye Spires of Oxford! Domes and Towers!
Gardens and Groves! your presence overpowers
The soberness of Reason; ’till, in sooth,
Transformed, and rushing on a bold exchange,
I slight my own beloved Cam, to range 10
Where silver Isis leads my stripling feet;
Pace the long avenue, or glide adown
The stream-like windings of that glorious street,
—An eager Novice robed in fluttering gown!

Oxford, May 30, 1820