I met him down upon the pier, <br />His eyes were wild and sad, <br />And something in them made me fear <br />That he was going mad. <br /> <br />So, being of a prudent sort, <br />I stood some distance off, <br />And before speaking gave a short <br />Conciliatory cough. <br /> <br />I then observed, 'What makes you look <br />So singularly glum?' <br />No notice of my words he took. -- <br />I said, 'Pray, are you dumb?' <br /> <br />'Oh no!' he said, 'I do not think <br />My power of speech is lost, <br />But when one's hopes are black as ink, <br />Why, talking is a frost, <br /> <br />'You see, I'm in for Math. again, <br />And certain to be ploughed. <br />Please tell me where I could obtain <br />An inexpensive shroud.' <br /> <br />I told him where such things are had, <br />Well made, and not too dear; <br />And, feeling really very sad, <br />I left him on the pier.<br /><br />Robert Fuller Murray<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-interview/
