Shall I compare thee to Summerville House? Thou art more lovely and more permanent. Dim bulbs do not the dozing student rouse, Echoing rooms are not to good prose lent. Sometimes too hot the central heating runs, And often is one's gold attendance dimmed; And every pun from ear sometime declines, By chance, or good taste's changing course, untrimmed; But thy eternal verses shall not fade, Nor lose possession of this craft thou know’st, This Yule thou wand’rest on this gift that's made Of iambic pentameter it grow’st. So long as men can scribe, or eyes can read, Long live Alan and the Writers' Society!
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