"The gate is about to open, after four long years,

And we, the well-trained knights and ladies, soon ride out,

Shining and proud amid exulting song and shout

To conquer the world's dark lands and darker fears.

We have been given glittering weapons, taught to fight,

Trained in the nobler arts and virtues. Now we wait,

Eager to meet the world beyond the open gate,

Ready to light the world with our own shining light."

And so it goes. A poem, with a capital P,

Sweet with sugary, knightly, noble fuss.

No. No! Listen, we're graduating now.

Say something real. Let's face it. What about us?

Tell us we're young, and have so much to learn.

We're going to do what we've never done before.

Say we're a little afraid now-and we are.

Believe in us. Help us. Love us. Understand us more.

Nothing but clean, firm straightness now,

Nothing but recklessness will satisfy.

Give us an honest thought, so hard it hurts,

One word to remember till we die.

This, then: it's over. College is over,

And nothing was ever known more sure

Than the law of life that everything passes.

To the very last, only this law will endure.

There's the secret! We've always known, deep down,

Our royal spending of strength, and love, and song,

Had to be flung as we ran, not hoarded up.

The goal and the glory were ours. But not for long.

Then what have we had, by being together?

All that we meant to, dreamed of, on this Hill?

No! For never a race was run that the runner

Could not have summoned an effort greater still.

But remember what hurts, yet is not bitter,

That here we ran as we never shall again,

With winged feet spurning the earth below us.

And now we must walk like older women.

And now we must work, like older men.