Mathematics



I've really done enough of sums,
     I've done so very many,
   That now instead of doing sum
     I'd rather not do any.
   I've toiled until my fingers are
     With writing out of joint;
   And even now of Decimals
     I cannot see the point.
   Subtraction to my weary mind
    Brings nothing but distraction,
  And vulgar and improper I
    Consider every fraction.

  "Practice makes perfect," so they say.
    It may be true. The fact is
  That I unhappily am not
    Yet perfect in my Practice.

  Discount is counted troublesome
    By my unlearned pate;
  For cubic root I entertain
    A strongly rooted hate.

  The heathen worship stocks and stones;
    My pious soul it shocks
  To be instructed thus to take
    An Interest in Stocks.

  Of Algebra I fear I have
    A very vague impression;
  I study hard, but fail to make
    Harmonical Progression.

  In Euclid too I always climb
    The Asses' Bridge with pain;
  A superficies to me
    Is anything but plane.

  "Apply yourself," my master said,
    When I my woes confided,
  "And, when you multiply, bestow
    Attention undivided."

  Oh, if one master tries so hard
    Tyrannical to be,
  How out of all Proportion I
    Should find a Rule of Three.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

1:01 min read
57

Quick analysis:

Scheme XABAXCXCXDED XXXX BFGF XHIH XDID XGAG XXXX XAEA
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 1,192
Words 203
Stanzas 8
Stanza Lengths 12, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4

Arthur Clement Hilton

Arthur Clement Hilton was an Anglican priest, and an English poet who wrote nonsense verse. He attended Marlborough College and St. John's College, Cambridge. He graduated in 1873 from Wells Theological Seminary, and was ordained a deacon in 1874 and a priest in 1875. He earned a M.A. from Cambridge in 1876. He died suddenly in 1877. more…

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