The Waster's Presentiment Poem by Robert Fuller Murray
The Waster's Presentiment
I shall be spun. There is a voice within
Which tells me plainly I am all undone;
For though I toil not, neither do I spin,
I shall be spun.
April approaches. I have not begun
Schwegler or Mackintosh, nor will begin
Those lucid works till April 21.
So my degree I do not hope to win,
For not by ways like mine degrees are won;
And though, to please my uncle, I go in,
I shall be spun.
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4/19/2024 2:34:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
