Poems, by Robert Louis Stevenson, hitherto unpublished/Here he comes, big with statistics
HERE HE COMES, BIG WITH STATISTICS—1874
Stevenson took his law studies seriously enough to get his degree as Advocate after creditably passing his examinations for the Bar in 1875; but in the course of taking notes at law lectures he would now and then indulge in verse as a pastime; and the present lines are a very amusing example of his skill in such unacademic performances. We do not know the name of the professor who is here lampooned, but we do know the type, and can well understand Stevenson's contemptuous pity so deftly worded in the last two lines.
HERE HE COMES, BIG WITH STATISTICS
Here he comes, big with statistics,
Troubled and sharp about fac's.
He has heap of the Form that is thinkable—
The stuff that is feeling, he lacks.
Do you envy this whiskered absurdity,
With pince-nez and clerical tie?
Poor fellow, he's blind of a sympathy!
I'd rather be blind of an eye.