Two verses from a poem by James Clerk Maxwell.  Think deeply on them at your peril, student!

 A vision of a Wrangle,  of a University, of Pedantry, and of Philosophy

Deep St. Mary's bell had sounded,
    And the twelve notes gently rounded
    Endless chimneys that surrounded
        My abode in Trinity.
    (Letter G, Old Court, South Attics),
    I shut up my mathematics,
    That confounded hydrostatics —
        Sink it in the deepest sea!

    In the grate the flickering embers
  Served to show how dull November’s
  Fogs had stamped my torpid members,
      Like a plucked and skinny goose.
  And as I prepared for bed, I
  Asked myself with voice unsteady,
  If of all the stuff I read, I
      Ever made the slightest use.

The rest, I fear you may seek, on the internet, for a peek.