Through the halls he hurries, fleeting,
Hasty, pasty-faced, repeating
Speedy steps to meet his seating
Safety-space of joy -
'There,' he thinks with silent wonder,
'I can heave this haul asunder;
Halve this hefty heap of plunder,'
Hangs his hopeful ploy -
So he moves, and pacing, passes
Through the rooms and by the classes,
'Round the empty-handed masses...
That's sprint-carry boy.