When I consider how my days at HBS are spent,
Ere half my days in these Aldrich classrooms wide,
Where class participation which is death to hide
Is lodged within me useless during the case method,
Why does HBS exact class participation from the TOM-denied?
Alas! There is no patience to prevent these murmurs
I only see thousands of hands at the professor’s bidding
Shoot up again and again without rest,
Why can they not contribute who only sit and listen?
The Original Sonnet XIX by John Milton
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
