An Interview

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I met him down upon the pier,
  His eyes were wild and sad,
  And something in them made me fear
  That he was going mad.

  So, being of a prudent sort,
  I stood some distance off,
  And before speaking gave a short
  Conciliatory cough.

  I then observed, 'What makes you look
  So singularly glum?'
  No notice of my words he took. -
  I said, 'Pray, are you dumb?'

  'Oh no!' he said, 'I do not think
  My power of speech is lost,
  But when one's hopes are black as ink,
  Why, talking is a frost,

  'You see, I'm in for Math. again,
  And certain to be ploughed.
  Please tell me where I could obtain
  An inexpensive shroud.'

  I told him where such things are had,
  Well made, and not too dear;
  And, feeling really very sad,
  I left him on the pier.

© Robert Fuller Murray