I was sixteen, and I had the most terrible dreams, <br />And specks before my eyes, and nervous weakness. <br />And I couldn't remember the books I read, <br />Like Frank Drummer who memorized page after page. <br />And my back was weak, and I worried and worried, <br />And I was embarrassed and stammered my lessons, <br />And when I stood up to recite I'd forget <br />Everything that I had studied. <br />Well, I saw Dr. Weese's advertisement, <br />And there I read everything in print, <br />Just as if he had known me; <br />And about the dreams which I couldn't help. <br />So I knew I was marked for an early grave. <br />And I worried until I had a cough, <br />And then the dreams stopped. <br />And then I slept the sleep without dreams <br />Here on the hill by the river.<br /><br />Edgar Lee Masters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/zenas-witt/
