Of oft a dream’s a dream one must wake from
I Oxford, waking is just like the dream.
Surreal we have strolled the streets o’ercome
While lines of Chekhov in our heads beteem.
Midsummer and Macbeth we all have read
And sonnets manifold did we all learn.
We danced the farandole, needles and thread.
Our voices used for woe and laughs in turn.
We friends and family new have come to love.
Although the course is done, awaken not.
Maintain this dreamlike state you’re thinking of.
Make art forever using what we were taught.
This stressful dream has shown us many things
And with it we will rise up as with wings.