‘Twas the night before finals, when all through college,
Not a student was sleeping, stuffing down knowledge;
The textbooks were scattered across desks in fright,
In hopes that some sentence may provide insight.
Suitcases spilled over, half-packed with remiss;
Some wept over econ—the awful abyss;
Others stared in despair at flabbily-craft words
Hardly stretching a page—only one-and-two-thirds!
In the library some slept upon packs or chairs,
And I sat with my friend, reading flashcards in pairs;
Nouns, verbs, adverbs, prepositions—no pauses!
Sentences, commas, and yes, even clauses.
When outside of our room, we heard such a cry,
That we leapt from our chairs ‘case someone had died!
Together we sought whence came the poor ghostly wail,
And found a young freshman, face buried in a tale.
My friend touched his arm, and he raised eyes from the page;
"Do you need any help?" my friend asked in some haste.
"One hundred pages to read," he said "—tonight,
"And an essay due," he finished, face pale white.
"Please, we can help you!" my friend said. "Never fear!
"I know that book well and its author, Shakespeare.
"Don't give up hope yet—believe me, we know this stuff;
"We can't make it perfect, but it can be enough."
Anxious, I glanced at my friend; what was she thinking!
We had verbs to study—past perfect and linking;
But inspired by hope in that freshman's face,
I pocketed my flashcard (subjective case).
So off we flew through early morning hours,
And using all my rhetorical powers,
And my friend's knowledge of the book's people and plot,
We helped that dear freshman, who became less distraught.
Weary we plowed, through theories of race and gender;
To sleep, perchance to dream—no! we could not surrender!
The freshman wrote his essay in a mad spree;
Words, words, words he typed—To be or not to be!
Then citations (MLA was required),
And we finished! (though we all felt quite tired).
The freshman thanked us deeply, relief in his eyes;
I looked at the current time and was quite surprised.
"We still have time to study," I told my dear friend,
And we said our farewells to that youthful freshman.
Though tired, we studied, but within, unseen,
A deep joy propelled us, far more than caffeine.
Though ‘twas bitter cold as we emerged outside,
I felt a warmth in my heart quietly abide.
Though it may not sound true, and it may just sound trite,
I learned more than grammar in the library that night.
Dawn broke upon the campus's testing center
With students in line and none eager to enter;
Then we moved inside, tests given by last name;
Students held palms against skulls, racking the brain.
The room was full quiet, not a mouse stirring,
Each of us hoping that we were not erring;
Exams had subjects from sucrose to Narcissus,
But then I smiled, remembering the real joy of Christmas.
Not a student was sleeping, stuffing down knowledge;
The textbooks were scattered across desks in fright,
In hopes that some sentence may provide insight.
Suitcases spilled over, half-packed with remiss;
Some wept over econ—the awful abyss;
Others stared in despair at flabbily-craft words
Hardly stretching a page—only one-and-two-thirds!
In the library some slept upon packs or chairs,
And I sat with my friend, reading flashcards in pairs;
Nouns, verbs, adverbs, prepositions—no pauses!
Sentences, commas, and yes, even clauses.
When outside of our room, we heard such a cry,
That we leapt from our chairs ‘case someone had died!
Together we sought whence came the poor ghostly wail,
And found a young freshman, face buried in a tale.
My friend touched his arm, and he raised eyes from the page;
"Do you need any help?" my friend asked in some haste.
"One hundred pages to read," he said "—tonight,
"And an essay due," he finished, face pale white.
"Please, we can help you!" my friend said. "Never fear!
"I know that book well and its author, Shakespeare.
"Don't give up hope yet—believe me, we know this stuff;
"We can't make it perfect, but it can be enough."
Anxious, I glanced at my friend; what was she thinking!
We had verbs to study—past perfect and linking;
But inspired by hope in that freshman's face,
I pocketed my flashcard (subjective case).
So off we flew through early morning hours,
And using all my rhetorical powers,
And my friend's knowledge of the book's people and plot,
We helped that dear freshman, who became less distraught.
Weary we plowed, through theories of race and gender;
To sleep, perchance to dream—no! we could not surrender!
The freshman wrote his essay in a mad spree;
Words, words, words he typed—To be or not to be!
Then citations (MLA was required),
And we finished! (though we all felt quite tired).
The freshman thanked us deeply, relief in his eyes;
I looked at the current time and was quite surprised.
"We still have time to study," I told my dear friend,
And we said our farewells to that youthful freshman.
Though tired, we studied, but within, unseen,
A deep joy propelled us, far more than caffeine.
Though ‘twas bitter cold as we emerged outside,
I felt a warmth in my heart quietly abide.
Though it may not sound true, and it may just sound trite,
I learned more than grammar in the library that night.
Dawn broke upon the campus's testing center
With students in line and none eager to enter;
Then we moved inside, tests given by last name;
Students held palms against skulls, racking the brain.
The room was full quiet, not a mouse stirring,
Each of us hoping that we were not erring;
Exams had subjects from sucrose to Narcissus,
But then I smiled, remembering the real joy of Christmas.