Selwyn, oh Selwyn, how do I love thee?
Your red-brick walls are like a wool blanket, always smelling peculiar and earthy after the rain.
Your rooftops are like stairwells to heaven.
Your little black birds, like small visiting demonic angels.
Your undergrads, like over-grown rosy-cheeked street children.
Your grads, like under-washed spinsters emerging from their widow's tower.
Your fellows, like the overly-friendly witch in 'Hansel and Gretel.'
Your gardeners, like too-cute hobbits who didn't make the second callback.
Selwyn, oh Selwyn, how I love thee!
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