Though we’re deep in Titus Livius,
Or in Plato all the day,
Trust us, we are not oblivious
Of our maidens far away.
Though we hide in far-off places,
Working ever week by week,
We remember your dear faces,
Learning Latin, grinding Greek.
Living up in dismal attics,
Or in coziest first-floors—
Reading toughest mathematics,
Classics, science—horrid bores.
Turning leaves of dictionary,
Working hard as work we can,
We remember pretty Mary,
Lively Louie, gentle Anne.
Though we’re deep in Titus Livius,
Or in Plato night and day,
Trust us, we are not oblivious
Of our maidens far away.