Ode to the Graduated

"Better late than never," they told;
"Prepare your future past now!
Treasure this paper you were sold -
The proletariat to wow!

"Bless us, the patron of our school,
We roam the earth in quest!
Our bookish training in western ways!
Thirsty knowledge sans rest!"

Blessed be the grim-faced student,
The sorrowed and the toiled;
You worked and failed and worked again,
your heart and knees you soiled.

A median world as a moderate man
Whose eyes may never wander -
Same sun and moon and earth and stars,
Your life may be more fonder.