Ballade to a learned lady

I languish, plunged in ultimate despair,

My hopes are frail, my aspirations fade,

The sun goes in, there's thunder in the air;

I watch the aspens quiver in the shade

And think of all those bills I've still not paid:

I have a rather early evening thirst—

But then the news—God bless the learned maid!—

A friend of mine has got an Oxford first.

Ring out, Great Tom, while lesser chimes prepare

To drench the skies in triumphing cascade,

Dons Bodley-bound, stop in your tracks and stare,

Dance down the Broad with steps precise and staid,

Woodstock Road spinsters (pas jolies, mais laides)

Go burn your bras and frolic till you burst,

Rejoice ye proles and Those Engaged in Trade:

A friend of mine has got an Oxford first.

In Heriot Row, Great King Street, Charlotte Square,

Edina's citizens have made the grade,

And riotous behaviour is quite rare,

But now they're making whoopee, I'm afraid—

Bejazus, Kathleen's leading 'em, indade—

Though Kenneth Jackson's lips are thin and pursed

Their celebration's not to be delayed—

A friend of mine has got an Oxford first.

Envoi

Princess! The nightingale sings in the glade,

The thunder's gone, the sun shines unrehearsed,

I raise my glass, with flagons am I stayed,

A friend of mine has got an Oxford first.

‘after 1954’

NOTES

Charles Thomas’ comments (letter 10-i-1998); his date for SP's poem:

'Someone he knew, obviously a mature student; but we [Charles and Jessica. Eds] cannot work out who this is. It post-dates SP's move to 46 Great King Street (c. 1954). Kathleen is our neighbour, who had the top 2 floors, her upper opp. SP and her lower opposite us: wife of JS (John) Macfie, WS, who when he died married a judge, Lord Dunpark (Alistair), who then died. The ref. to Jackson suggests the degree may have had some link to Celtic, or protohistory. Archaeology was not then a degree subject at Oxford.'